Well, when we actually start my posts still stand as my actions, alright?

( I am not joining this Rp I have no character idea and i have far too many Rp's, But I am curious to how this rp plays out, so I am going to just read the rp as it goes along.... so make it worth reading if you please!)

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Ok...

Ok...

Name: Asho
Age: 30
Occupation: Trader
Appearance: Tall, thin, brown hair (about an inch long), hazel eyes.
Picture, if necessary: [don't feel like finding one right now]
Personality: Fun-loving but commited. He would rather play than work, but he understands that he must work to eat. Reveal more later.
History: The son of the blacksmith Crukas is an apprentice to. His dad tried to teach him how to be a blacksmith, but after his son melted three swords together, the father gave up in teaching him how to be a blacksmith. Instead, he went into the neighbor's trading business, and now continues to work in trading Crukas's made weapons.

[that work for you Tur?]

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Yep, awesome mate!

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

*squee* I'm excited for this one! Ellie, tell me if this is okay or not, these ideas for characters have been nagging at me for quite some time.

Name: Rostam
Age: 24
Occupation: Weaver
Appearance: Built sturdily but not extremely heavily, and solid. Just under six feet, with cropped black hair and beard. Black eyes and dark-ish skin (I'm thinking Middle Eastern). Clothing is very ordinary, but mostly handmade by his wife.
Picture, if necessary: None yet
Personality: Honest and solid, and generally slow to speak, but with a stubborn streak. Knows what's right and when to do it.
History: Ordinary - grew up with many siblings and waited to marry until Anousha was old enough to do so, making him older than usual when he married. They have little money to spare, especially with business difficulties, but are generally happy.

Name: Anousha
Age: 19
Occupation: Weaver's wife
Appearance: Short and slender but sturdy, and is not generally underestimated. Wavy black hair down her back and black eyes, dark-ish skin. Considered quite pretty. She dresses as plain as her husband does but has a liking for pretty things.
Picture, if necessary: we'll see...
Personality: Spirited. On first glance she appears the dominating one between her and Rostam, but looks are deceiving. More outspoken than Rostam, and will often speak for both of them. Goes everywhere he does.
History: Youngest daughter of a merchant fallen from favor. Married at age 16.

*Cough* any resemblance to Perrin/Faile from Wheel of Time is, if not accidental, than purely complimentary to said fantasy saga.

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*thread save, bump assault*

Khusrau sighed in his chair. He leaned on his staff and examined each and every person sitting around closely, not trusting that they would all be loyal. The only reason he had answered the invitation to come was because he wanted to see what these people were plotting, thinking he might be able to use to his own ends in the future.

The magi snapped to attention when Carina smashed the table and stared at her with hawk-like attention.

Khusrau sighed in his chair. He leaned on his staff and examined each and every person sitting around closely, not trusting that they would all be loyal. The only reason he had answered the invitation to come was because he wanted to see what these people were plotting, thinking he might be able to use to his own ends in the future.

The magi snapped to attention when Carina smacked the table and stared at her with hawk-like attention.

A few places beyond Ulric, opposite Khusrau, an unimpressed Anousha nearly started to her feet. No love lost between her and the imperious Carina - perhaps due more than a little to their similar, and clashing, personalities. Like putting two threads of too alike color into a weave. Set them beside each other and neither blended, only emphasized the other's incompatibility. The sole reason she did not return with some cutting comment was her husband's hand on her arm. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who noted that she was young and female, and should be far more subdued than she was. Then again, would he have loved her if she were not?

Rostam had roughened hands three times the size of his petite wife's, but his touch was nearly gentler than hers, and he seemed content to settle back and wait until Carina got to the point - all night if need be. Patience was a virtue only one of the two possessed.

The young woman was still glaring around the table as if to frighten off any not entirely prepared to deal with her formidable temper. "Please enlighten us further, if you would, Carina." Rostam's voice was short of a rumble, but not by much, and polite if gently prodding. He felt Anousha shift impatiently under his hand, resentful of having to wait.

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"Where Rostam goes, so do I," flashed Anousha, chin lifted haughtily despite Rostam's steadily calm demeanor beside her. All the other wives she knew would no doubt have stayed home. Well, she was not them. "I - "

Beside her Rostam leaned forward almost lazily, with steady grace. "Our friend Ulric put it very well," he replied - interrupted, more like, in order to prevent an all-out war -, meeting Carina's hot gaze. "Would we be here if we were satisfied with life as it is?"

Anousha shook waves of black hair out of her face, tossing them back over her shoulders. "Is anyone, really?" she inquired doubtfully, glancing about the table. Only a dozen, and so many she met grumbled. Were these all who were willing to do anything about it? "Food's nearly thrice as expensive it was but a season ago. We've hardly money to afford it, let alone anything else."

She felt Rostam shift beside her, less than pleased. Perhaps she was fiery and outspoken but his pride, if generally quiet, was admittedly larger. Would any man admit to monetary difficulties? Somehow Anousha thought not. A grin flitted briefly over her lips. For all their pretensions males frequently had very little sense.

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"Justice, yes." Kamal leaned back in his chair, arms crossed casually. "The trade is suffering- I speak not only for myself, but for other merchants. It is a balancing act just to stay in business."

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. "I know it sounds like I am speaking only of money, but many merchants have family to support. I myself am trying to keep my parents from losing their home- who do you think would own their home if they lost it? Our dear King, of course. I have heard similar stories from numerous men.

"What will happen if things are allowed to continue like this? What will we do to survive? Will our young men be forced to work in fields or on the docks? Will our women be sold as slaves... or worse? And what of the elderly, the ones who cannot work?" He abruptly leaned back. "But, I have said enough."

During his speech, he had kept a slight smile on his lips, as if he was talking with close friends. His eyes had been moving, though, judging the emotions on each persons' face as they listened.

Asho was leaning back on his chair with his feet resting upon a nearby table. What was he doing here? He thought to himself, and he thought quickly. He had to think of a good answer before the hawk lady noticed him from across the room. After all, he stood out. Not too many people perfered to be laying back with feet on table. That was known mostly as rude, improper, and dirty. To Asho, the tables were dirty enough anyway; they were way too dirty to eat on, so what else would he find use for this new-flangled wooden contraptions expect for foot rests.

Smiling, he thought of the perfect answer. It was just the type to be sweet, simple, and get the hawk-eyes and claws to pray away from him before he had to commit to anything too quickly.

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Crukas was sitting next to Asho, and even though his feet weren't on the table, his posture was laid back. He also needed to think of a reason why he was here and hoped that the lady picked Asho first, for he had no idea.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Khusrau shook his head as the others talked about the injustice. He said kind of quietly, loud enough for a few near him to hear, "If only Muhammad had stayed in the desert. Maybe Persia would still be for Persians, and Mazda would still protect the land from ." His hands shook as he gribbed his staff tightly.