Anyone can join!

So, yeah, here goes RP'ing! Because I enjoys it so damn much TwT

Please, no one-liners.

"..." = speech

(...) = thoughts


SO!
A few starters, if ya need 'em~
By all means, if you have a different setting in mind, feel free to make a new start >w<




Redd

It was a lovely day in the forest.
The sunlight flitted down through the canopy, onto the calm, neutral frame of a young stag of slight bulk, laying by himself in a small ray of sunlight. He was peaceful, having just woken up from his usual spot between the two young trees in front of the Great Oak. He smiled serenely to himself, welcoming the new day, embracing it... no matter what might happen.
He sighed to himself.
"A-another day approaches..."


Raleigh

The white stag sighed.
The sun overhead was at its peak, blaring down upon his snowy coat unforgiving, like the very glare of the Twin Gods who had, on several occasions, attempted to show this very particular stag who was the boss.
He snorted a dry chuckle.
(Little do they know, I follow only one "boss")
Still, the sun was annoying him a great deal - a valid attempt by the two! - making him seek the shade, traversing through the woods, seeking some place calm, cool, shady and preferably slightly moist.
The playground would be a good place for that...


Crire

Music...
How he longed for it...
Even as the shadows grew long in the early dusk, the sun setting, bathing the forest and the old ruins in flames of orange and bright red, Crire could think of nothing but his beloved violin and how he was unable to play it as he was now.
Gritting razor-sharp teeth, he turned his head to the heavens, those burning, bleedin' heavens and let out a howl of rage and pain, directed at all those high-and-mighty angels who'd seen it fit to strip him of everything that was him.
He huffed as his outburst ended, standing petrified, neck and head hanging low, torn, useless wings quivering as not-quite-healed wounds started aching again.
"To hell with you... TO HELL WITH YOU ALL!" He bellowed, his voice full of rage and fury, carrying all over the until now so quiet forest...

Dorian Bucks

Trembling... Shaking...
There were so... so many!
All around him, drawing closer, hunting him...
The shadows he had experienced at Willowhill Asylum were still chasing him, keeping just at the edge of his sight, intangible, invisible, but still so terrifyingly close!
He bucked, lashing out with trembling hind-legs, hitting nothing, the wind rushing in the trees, the sound of hooves getting closer, a shadow past the full, round moon, something touched his leg!
Yelping, the purple stag jumped forward, running, fleeing... until clumsy hooves snagged on an exposed root, landing him face-first into the blue bowl.
There he stayed still, trembling, ears flat against his deformed head, working, yellow eye wide, staring into the closing darkness...
...
He was alone...
Or was he?...