Post by blaize on Jul 13, 2012 8:15:35 GMT -7
i'm just a face for every picture``
name • Blaize
age • 25
contact • Morgan7782@sbcglobal.net
rp experience • 8 years
how you found us • Advert
a smile for your scrapbooks``
full name • Alexander Marion Ryan
nickname(s) • Alex
age • 24
birthday • Janurary 23rd
riding level • Advanced, trains stock horses
cannon or original • cannon I believe
horse name • Banjo
horse gender • Gelding
horse breed • Australian Stock Horse (similar to American Quarter Horse)
horse description • 15 h.h. 1100 lbs solid black no markings trained as a stock horse, trained in campdrafting events,![]()
www.aees.com.au/photos/jprettycool664_l.jpg [/img][/SIZE]
there's a ghost in this room``
height • 6'2"
weight • 225 lbs
eyes • Stormy Blue
hair • Dark brown/black
other • Doesn't go anywhere without his hat
to witness my first breakdown``
likes • women, horses, competing, training horses, flying (helicopter and planes), riding
dislikes • mind games, his father, animal abusers
habits • chewing, drinks occasionally, sort of a dare devil when it comes to riding and flying
fears • None openly stated or knows
goals • to own his own stock horse training facility
overall personality • Charming, witty, funny, sexy, intelligent, slight temper, passionate
too much of you is never enough``
parents • Harry Ryan / 50's age / Total son of a bitch
siblings • Nick Ryan / Brother / 22 years old / Buisness Degree
other important relatives • None
regular history • Alex grew on on a huge cattle and sheep ranch in Southern Australia. He grew up in a large house with a very wealthy family. He could be considered as spoiled when he was younger, but not so much now. He knows the value of hard work and doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.
riding history • Been riding on his property since he could walk. Rides in campdrafting/cutting comps, also helps with cattle droves when needed.
now I'm tangled in the sheets``
read the rules • Yes
rp sample • ~ Tyrone's attitude when it came to this sort of thing tended to get him in trouble. With whoever. It wasn't like he was being led by a angelic conscious like Jiminy Cricket. He fiddled with the coat buttons a second, more trying to keep his hands busy then anything. The bottle was still held in his left hand, but he didn't drink anymore, or even spill it. The males forehead was creased with thought and his stride had become a bit business-like as he moved through the neighborhoods. Trying to beat the sunrise. The air was still crisp with the night chill, and only a very slight purple showed in the east where the sun was hiding. Finally, the houses became a bit familiar, and Tyrone's stride dropped considerably. Not having second thoughts exactly, just more gathering himself. The neighborhood was still soaked in dusk light, or lack thereof, as Tyrone moved toward one house. There were no cars in the driveway, causing a shudder of ease to rise as he came to the front door. Maybe it was the sick need for vengeance, who the hell knew? Hazel specs were lit up like Christmas though as he slammed his jacketed elbow through a window. Glass shattered inside, making the break in obvious, but Tyrone was pretty sure they would be looking for a black druggie rather then him. Just in case though, he climbed through the window quickly before any neighbors were roused from the noise. His thumb pressed over the top of the bottle, keeping it from spilling before he looked around the dark house. It was quiet, peaceful and very different from what it was about to become. For a second, Tyrone was disappointed that nobody was home, but they would all be at the hospital, standing vigilantly by the girls bedside. What must it be like? Tyrone turned and headed up the stairs, coming to Roz's door and glancing down the hall. The list ran through his head: Picture and rabbit.. He opened the door and walked through, not looking at anything but the picture as he grabbed it off the dresser. Tyrone looked over it curiously, before shoving it in his coat and moving toward the bed. Rosaline's age wasn't as obvious in her decor as her cousin, and Tyrone dropped down, feeling around under the bed for the feel of a stuffed animal. His hand closed around one of the rabbits ears as he pulled it out and looked over it as well. Finally when every possession Roz had asked for was in hand, Tyrone took the bottle and started soaking every piece of porus material there was in the bedroom. The alcohol didn't account for too much, but it would damn near guarantee her bedroom would be destroyed. Some of the bottle was saved though, and Tyrone wasn't ceremonious as he lit a match and dropped it to her bed. Flame spit up quickly as the alcohol caught fire, and Tyrone moved out of the bedroom and back downstairs. The kitchen was next, and he grabbed a dishtowel, shoving it into the top of the bottle and shaking it to soak it through. This would call for a quick departure. The male moved to the stove and turned the gas on each burner on, full blast but with no flame to burn it off. A low whistle was given, before he muttered Take that, bitches.. It wasn't exactly mature, but who cared? Nobody was around. Seconds ticked by and finally, Tyrone moved as far out of the kitchen as he could without losing sight of it. The end of the bottle was lit, and the towel caught fire, and he glanced toward the broken window before chucking the flaming bottle into the kitchen and making a run for it. His shoes slid on the floor a second before grabbing traction and throwing him through the window as the kitchen damn near exploded from the built up gas. Tyrone was panting as he scrambled to his feet and took off, toward the ghetto. His hood was pulled up and he went the other direction just in case anybody saw him. Still panting, Tyrone dropped his hood down as he moved out of view, but he could still see smoke corkscrewing into the air. He pulled out the rabbit and picture, just making sure he still had them, before making his way back home. His stride was casual now, acting as if he were just going on a morning stroll. During the arsonic act, the sun had come up and in spite of the cool morning a bead of sweat fell down the males face. He cut through a few neighborhoods and finally came to his own nestled in suburbia. Tyrone didn't go in just yet though, and he took a seat on the front porch steps, needing a cigarette. Desperately. Damn nicotine. Plus he wasn't exactly sure how Roz would react when he finally explained what he had done. ~
(THIS IS AN RP SAMPLE FROM MY CHARACTER TYRONE CORTEZ. Just FYI!)
Read more: a-circuit-riders.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=apps&action=display&thread=4#ixzz20Vt7vZ1c
name • Blaize
age • 25
contact • Morgan7782@sbcglobal.net
rp experience • 8 years
how you found us • Advert
a smile for your scrapbooks``
full name • Alexander Marion Ryan
nickname(s) • Alex
age • 24
birthday • Janurary 23rd
riding level • Advanced, trains stock horses
cannon or original • cannon I believe
horse name • Banjo
horse gender • Gelding
horse breed • Australian Stock Horse (similar to American Quarter Horse)
horse description • 15 h.h. 1100 lbs solid black no markings trained as a stock horse, trained in campdrafting events,
there's a ghost in this room``
height • 6'2"
weight • 225 lbs
eyes • Stormy Blue
hair • Dark brown/black
other • Doesn't go anywhere without his hat
to witness my first breakdown``
likes • women, horses, competing, training horses, flying (helicopter and planes), riding
dislikes • mind games, his father, animal abusers
habits • chewing, drinks occasionally, sort of a dare devil when it comes to riding and flying
fears • None openly stated or knows
goals • to own his own stock horse training facility
overall personality • Charming, witty, funny, sexy, intelligent, slight temper, passionate
too much of you is never enough``
parents • Harry Ryan / 50's age / Total son of a bitch
siblings • Nick Ryan / Brother / 22 years old / Buisness Degree
other important relatives • None
regular history • Alex grew on on a huge cattle and sheep ranch in Southern Australia. He grew up in a large house with a very wealthy family. He could be considered as spoiled when he was younger, but not so much now. He knows the value of hard work and doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.
riding history • Been riding on his property since he could walk. Rides in campdrafting/cutting comps, also helps with cattle droves when needed.
now I'm tangled in the sheets``
read the rules • Yes
rp sample • ~ Tyrone's attitude when it came to this sort of thing tended to get him in trouble. With whoever. It wasn't like he was being led by a angelic conscious like Jiminy Cricket. He fiddled with the coat buttons a second, more trying to keep his hands busy then anything. The bottle was still held in his left hand, but he didn't drink anymore, or even spill it. The males forehead was creased with thought and his stride had become a bit business-like as he moved through the neighborhoods. Trying to beat the sunrise. The air was still crisp with the night chill, and only a very slight purple showed in the east where the sun was hiding. Finally, the houses became a bit familiar, and Tyrone's stride dropped considerably. Not having second thoughts exactly, just more gathering himself. The neighborhood was still soaked in dusk light, or lack thereof, as Tyrone moved toward one house. There were no cars in the driveway, causing a shudder of ease to rise as he came to the front door. Maybe it was the sick need for vengeance, who the hell knew? Hazel specs were lit up like Christmas though as he slammed his jacketed elbow through a window. Glass shattered inside, making the break in obvious, but Tyrone was pretty sure they would be looking for a black druggie rather then him. Just in case though, he climbed through the window quickly before any neighbors were roused from the noise. His thumb pressed over the top of the bottle, keeping it from spilling before he looked around the dark house. It was quiet, peaceful and very different from what it was about to become. For a second, Tyrone was disappointed that nobody was home, but they would all be at the hospital, standing vigilantly by the girls bedside. What must it be like? Tyrone turned and headed up the stairs, coming to Roz's door and glancing down the hall. The list ran through his head: Picture and rabbit.. He opened the door and walked through, not looking at anything but the picture as he grabbed it off the dresser. Tyrone looked over it curiously, before shoving it in his coat and moving toward the bed. Rosaline's age wasn't as obvious in her decor as her cousin, and Tyrone dropped down, feeling around under the bed for the feel of a stuffed animal. His hand closed around one of the rabbits ears as he pulled it out and looked over it as well. Finally when every possession Roz had asked for was in hand, Tyrone took the bottle and started soaking every piece of porus material there was in the bedroom. The alcohol didn't account for too much, but it would damn near guarantee her bedroom would be destroyed. Some of the bottle was saved though, and Tyrone wasn't ceremonious as he lit a match and dropped it to her bed. Flame spit up quickly as the alcohol caught fire, and Tyrone moved out of the bedroom and back downstairs. The kitchen was next, and he grabbed a dishtowel, shoving it into the top of the bottle and shaking it to soak it through. This would call for a quick departure. The male moved to the stove and turned the gas on each burner on, full blast but with no flame to burn it off. A low whistle was given, before he muttered Take that, bitches.. It wasn't exactly mature, but who cared? Nobody was around. Seconds ticked by and finally, Tyrone moved as far out of the kitchen as he could without losing sight of it. The end of the bottle was lit, and the towel caught fire, and he glanced toward the broken window before chucking the flaming bottle into the kitchen and making a run for it. His shoes slid on the floor a second before grabbing traction and throwing him through the window as the kitchen damn near exploded from the built up gas. Tyrone was panting as he scrambled to his feet and took off, toward the ghetto. His hood was pulled up and he went the other direction just in case anybody saw him. Still panting, Tyrone dropped his hood down as he moved out of view, but he could still see smoke corkscrewing into the air. He pulled out the rabbit and picture, just making sure he still had them, before making his way back home. His stride was casual now, acting as if he were just going on a morning stroll. During the arsonic act, the sun had come up and in spite of the cool morning a bead of sweat fell down the males face. He cut through a few neighborhoods and finally came to his own nestled in suburbia. Tyrone didn't go in just yet though, and he took a seat on the front porch steps, needing a cigarette. Desperately. Damn nicotine. Plus he wasn't exactly sure how Roz would react when he finally explained what he had done. ~
(THIS IS AN RP SAMPLE FROM MY CHARACTER TYRONE CORTEZ. Just FYI!)
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