"Our dreams, they are theatres for our most lavish desires. Whatever we wish for is given,
whatever we fear is shown, and whatever happens...we feel"

Though he never understood the figure that appeared to him that night, he constantly held
watch. It had happened over several nights by this moment, and he was fearful. Perhaps the
feeling of death in a dream left his shaking in his boots, which, for a man on his ability,
was frightfully strange. He slept that night. It was no simple task from the start, with
the cold sweat running down his body ruining concentration. He caught a glimpse of the
shadows dance across his ceiling. The model jets hung up moved in an awkward manner. The
stench of death was, perhaps most likely, in the air. He turned to his clock. Digital. It
stated 11:56. It was late. He wiped sweat from his brow with his arm. It was no use, as it
was sweaty as well. His breathing was heavy tonight. He wanted to drift away to the land
of infinite possibilities, but he was afraid of the figure once again. Its black velvety
form, slinking across as if it was a mere shadow, pulling to him. Breath carrying the scent
of pain and death. Eyes a dark red. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody. Bleeding from the sockets, yet
still there. The teeth too. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody. He sat up, panting heavily now. His
eyes were wide. Awake for now it seemed. The clock. It read 12:34. His eyes. Their lids.
Beginning to become heavy. He fought the temptation to rest. Never return to the horrid
land. The land of dreams. No longer a land of joy and freedom. Now fear. However, he could
no longer fight nature. He fell back into his bed. Asleep.

It was dark. Pitch black around. A slight red light was near the end of what seemed a
tunnel, but it was horizontal. A crevice of blood. A figure drifted towards him. It was not
the same. Different. Feminine. The last had no form. It was twisted. This was feminine.
It became clearer as it approached. It was no shadow like the last. She was fairly tall.
Sported short cinnamon brown hair. Wore nothing but a simple white nightgown. Tears.
Streaming down her fair cheeks. She noticed him. Naked. Shocked. It was if she tried to
communicate. Her mouth moving quickly. Much information lost. He tried answering. No sound.

"Our dreams, they are theatres for our most lavish desires. Whatever we wish for is given,
whatever we fear is shown, and whatever happens...we feel"

He turned round. The figure stood. Tall above. It held out a hand. Inviting.

"Our dreams, they are theatres for our most lavish desires. Whatever we wish for is given,
whatever we fear is shown, and whatever happens...we feel"

Again it shot out. He turned to see her running. Running away. Away from the grisly sight.
He was engulfed by shadows. He went out.
He woke. An alleyway. It was dark. He could not move. His chest. Ripped. Ripped apart.
Gore. All around. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody. He yelped. Yelped like a dog. Helpless. Dying.
She was nowhere. The ground. Cold. Shards of glass lay beneath him. Pain. There. He saw the wall. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody. He went out. Awake. No more.

There it was written.

"On this day. Shall my trumpet play? No. It shall be mute. Like my soul."

She walked along the city. Streets. Empty. Cars around. No one inside. Houses. Lit
brightly. No one inside. A pipe rolled. She picked it. Holding it weakly. There. It
sounded.

"A night such as this. The games we play, hunting one another. 'Freedom. Freedom.' We
shout. But it falls upon deaf ears."

The voice shot out. She turned round. Another man. Before her. In his hand. He held. A gun.
"Freedom. Freedom from this nightmare."
A shot went off. The pipe dropped. She fell. The man. He walked. Away.

The shadow. It watches. But does not move. It enjoys the show. For this dream. It is its dream. Its theatre.

This dream, though, Never ends. It is a dramatic tragedy. Men and women play their roles.
In these roles. They die. Or they live. It is. Survival.

Freeform story RP, no true elaboration needed. Characters are pulled away from their dreams to a nightmarish city, where the name of the game is violence. You fight to live.
The entirety is Player against Player, there are no true NPC enemies (except for the shadow). However, you choose whether you want to kill or not. You can form alliances with others, or you can go on a rampant killing spree, ripping apart whoever you wish.
Anything and everything is a weapon. As long as you can pick it up, it can be used.
Any type of character is allowed, whether they be frail or strong.
No character sheets on this one, guys. Everything about appearance and stuff can be noted in your first post of the RP.

Yeah, it's one of those 'straight to RP topics' that aren't posted on the discussion. Discussion can go in this topic before the actual RP starts.

Lastly, I originally planned on this being in RPB, but it's not active enough. Even though, I'm still considering it an RP for those with experience.

Confirmed players:
Doromac
Nate
Halsoy (I'm fine with paranoia, by the way)
Green Mage

Name: You don't need to know who you kill when you kill.
Age: People might make fun of you cause you are too young or too old.
Gender: you can make it a part of the appearance.
BIO: We are not trying to write a book... Or are we? - Yay for randomness I guess.
appearance: normal
Stuff: Wait I think the only (Stuff) We can carry is glasses and clothes... Though a flash light can be used as a weapon... Hmm... confusing.

Any way good job I like the idea or a free RP where you can't trust any one it will work.

I guess I'll put Akshon to use...

Name: Brad Jordan a.k.a Akshon

Time Period: 20th Century

Age: 21

Class: Hustler

Equipment:

Crack to sell, weed to smoke, an AK 47, Uzi, 9mm and 4 clips. All was packed in his truck. When he went out, he usually carried a bag with the goods inside.

Appearance:

Akshon is an dark black man of average height.He is a bit heavy, but is quite strong. He wears all black clothing; black Levi's, black shirt, black sneakers, and occasionally a black leather jacket (usually for cold days/nights).

Personality:

Akshon is very proud of himself. He is a psychopath and loves sex. He occasionally has flashbacks of himself murdering and dismembering people, which he is then dramatized by his actions, going into a brief state of shock. He is a homicidal maniac, but is caring towards his neighborhood and his partners, Willie D, Bushwick Bill, J, and Chief.

Biography:

Akshon (Brad Jordan) was born on November 9, 1970 in Houston, Texas. He was raised in South Park 5th Ward Projects, where crime was abundant and there was little to have. He was always trouble at school. He would get into fights, and sell things he stole at the Stop n Go; he was always hustling.

At the age of sixteen, he started selling cheap drugs, such as extacy. A year later he stole a ki(logram) from a dope house he and started selling that. He began to buy it until that he noticed every time he turned a profit, he ended up broke. He learned how to rock it up himself. A week later he sold all of his merchandise and had it made. He had money, he didn't have to pay anyone a cent.

He gathered up some of his boys from 5th ward; Willie D, Bushwick Bill, J, and Chief. They were big time hustlers, making incredible amounts of money. They had groupies and henchmen too. They began to notice that they had competition. Driving down Buford one day, some other dudes started to shoot at them. That was the moment Akshon made the decision that they needed protection. They headed out to the Surplus and began to buy guns of all types; automatic, revolvers, handguns, and even grenades. They headed out to the brothers that shot at them, and shot up they crib and left. That's was when it was written that the 5th Ward Boys were not to be messed with.

Akshon and his crew are even more successful today, and continue to be one of the most dangerous crews in Texas.

So when is this going to start?

Er, I hope you're kidding...

Also, Doro, you didn't need a sheet, but it's fine with me.
I was aiming for the type of thing Thai did with Gavaroche, so We don't really need sheets. (You guys can see the topic, right?)

Also, it's kind of stupid to take so much time from your day to write an extensive bio for a character that might die in the first couple pages.

I had already written it so it didn't take too much time ou of my day since all i did was copy and paste.

Ah well, I guess what I wrote is good as a general thought before someone tries to write up a sheet just for this.

I might make some total psychopath for this RP, just when do you plan on starting it?

I really want to try to avoid total psychopathic killers in this, because then everyone can just make a cold blooded animal and just run around. It's just a really shallow way to participate in a PvP experience. Just because you fight other players doesn't mean you need a character that kills without contemplation or remorse.

Also, starts when there is a sufficient amount of people.

Can I use multiple characters?

I want to keep multiple characters to a limit, so there is no gang rape by the same RPer.

Maybe two, but they'll most likely be in separate sections of the city.

That was horrible.

Well, I'm not very experienced, but I'll try to sign up anyway.

Appearance: Blond dreads, black t-shirt, blue jeans. 6'4", medium build. (I'm awesome when I dream.)
Stuff: None that I carry. (Since when do I need to carry stuff while I'm dreaming?)

Jack Crayton was a brilliant man. He had lithe features and a soft complexion. Nothing about his appearance was particularly outstanding, save his piercing blue eyes. Though he was in his mid-forties, his sandy brown hair was lined with premature streaks of gray which most others assumed to be caused by the stress of the hard work it took to accumulate his fortune. They were wrong.

Though Jack essentially had anything he could ever want or need at his fingertips, he was troubled regularly, almost constantly, by outlandish nightmares. He dreaded sleep and avoided it as much as possible. Whenever he did sleep, he'd often awaken in the middle of the night, panting heavily in a cold sweat. Deprived as he was of sleep, Crayton was, all-in-all, a complete mess. He'd often go on drinking binges hoping that alcohol would soothe his troubled mind. When this failed he resorted to fighting, which, thanks to his lean build, he did quite well. He somehow found comfort in this and soon found himself brawling regularly. His skill improved over the course of months until one night, when he met his match.

A little tipsy from cheap whiskey, Jack had picked a fight with the wrong man, a burly guy who looked as if he could bench press the entire bar. When confronted with the challenge, he simply smashed the bottle he had been drinking out of over Jack's head, then knocked him to the ground and began strangling him. Drunken as he was and driven by the will to survive, Clayton grabbed one of the shards of the broken bottle lying near him and drove it into the man's eye. He died instantly.

Knowing that he had just potentially thrown away the rest of his life, Jack desperately searched for a way out. The conclusion he finally drew was feigning insanity. Considering his fragile mental state, it shouldn't be that difficult. And it wasn't. The trial went according to plan, and he was committed to a psychiatric hospital. When it was discovered that he often would get into fights with other inhabitants, he was put in solitary confinement and forced to don a straight-jacket.

In custody, Jack's nightmares only worsened. He knew he had to escape, lest his recurring dream drive him truly mad. He used his knowledge of the hospital to construct an elaborate escape plan that I don't really much feel like explaining in depth. Jack managed to get away one night, but not without pursuit. Unarmed and constrained by a straight-jacket, he had no choice but to hide. He managed to evade his pursuers by traveling to a stream and hiding under a crossing bridge. Weary from lack of sleep and his grand escape, Jack fell asleep on the spot and found himself in a nightmare he would most likely not be waking up from.

OOC: Sorry about the lengthy post.

OOC - You may want to split that into parts, than having a huge wall.

EDIT: I will, I guess.

Err, RP hasn't started yet.

I need to do an introduction post first.

Also, post if you are participating and notify me.