Welcome to Aldrect! Here you'll see vast, towering buildings of pure alabaster and marble, and the business of the townsfolk. The religion of the Holy Triumvirate was begun here, and in the center of the city is a grand fountain of the gods. (+2 Defense, +2 Fame)

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Return to Aldrect, the Holy City

.:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby BaalsBaby » 12/10/2009 9:35 PM

~**~

Image

Tucked away in a bustling corner of the city, there's a large expansive area of sidewalk most people know only as the 'Hobo Corner' as they pass by (usually on the opposite side of the street.) There is a large box there and pacing back and forth is a rather odd figure, who seems to be mumbling to himself until he sees you. Gripping his staff, upon which there is a .... foot, the twitchy guy who seems to be an anthropomorphic Rattegan hobbles over and leans forward. "I-I'm Morgo the Rattegan. T-T-The Master is away... but I will watch this b-b-box until he returns." Poor guy. I wonder if he knows his 'master' might never be back? Anyway, you should probably step away from this twitchy guy, he's kinda eerie and might want money...

The rest of the street is littered with boxes of all kinds and newspaper beds. Tread lightly!

---

Join Morgo! Here, you have two options you can perform.

1. You can join the Hobo Corner and roleplay one post per person of a character asking for KS donations only. (Have fun! Characters can have cardboard box houses or stake a claim near a garbage bin, etc etc.~)

-or-

2. You can be a generous donator! However, donators may
NOT post here saying they gave a donation or to whom they gave it to. Only the person who receives it will know, so they can thank you personally via PMs or something~ (No exceptions.This will avoid 'favoritism' drama llama-ing. ;))
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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Wyndhail » 12/10/2009 9:51 PM

All was a normal day in Aldrect City, though it was a bit festive as of late. Shop windows were bedecked in red and green with little trinkets displayed and such. Owners strolled down the street with their pets and all manner of shopping bags and such that, presumably, were gifts for others. How sweet.
One such owner was strolling unknowingly down the stretch of sidewalk, looking by all means average though bundled up for the winter in such necessities as a heavy coat and a thick white scarf that obscured her mouth from view. Apparently she did not know of the hobo who tended to hang around this area with all of its... unique... decor, as once she turned the corner you could practically hear the car tires squealing. An anthropomorphic... Rattegan... was standing almost directly in front of her. He hobbled even closer than he had been before and gave off a smell that the woman was evidently unable to place. Wouldn't want to be mean, though.

"Hello--"

"I-I'm Morgo the Rattegan. T-T-The Master is away... but I will watch this b-b-box until he returns."

"Nice clothes. Very grungy."

"..." Shiver, shiver.

There were a few moments of silence.

"I think I'm going to hang out here, if you get clothes like that." The clearly quirky, idiosyncratic woman indicated his patched and re-patched jacket with the point of a finger. There was still no response, and she stepped back a little once she noticed that the man was staring off at the street waiting for the next person to nearly stumble into him. Nearby, a woman covered her child's eyes. Getting no response, the coated woman sat gingerely on a small crate. Or she would've, before she noticed that the nearby hobo was quite cold.

"Here, wear this." She put the scarf on him. Shiver, shiver. No reaction.
Well, she tried, and sat back on her chosen throne of the plastic crate.
get a little closer, let fold
cut open my sternum, and pull
my little ribs around you
the lungs of me be crowns over you
get a little closer, let fold
cut open my sternum, and pull
my little ribs around you
the rungs of me be under, under you

ill cut the soft pockets, let bleed
over the rocky cliffs that you leave
to peer over and not forget what feet are
splitting threads of lightning over me

"Fineshrine" by Purity Ring

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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Thunder » 12/10/2009 9:54 PM

Image


Erezakiel had only recently discovered this place. He didn't really think too highly of beggars; although he was a thief, it took skill to steal, whereas beggars just wrote on a sign and sat in the streets, waiting for someone to come. And when you needed things right away, you didn't have time to just sit there and wait.

But Erez had a thought. It was almost time for the holidays. Perhaps people would be a bit more generous this time of year. Maybe he wouldn't have to resort to steal as much. Besides, he felt a little guilty for stealing from others when the festivities were just around the corner. He and his brother still had to survive somehow, and now that it was getting colder, Reginald's system was weaker, and he was even more sickly. So Erezakiel decided to give begging a try. He knew how to write, although his handwriting was chicken scratch.

My brother has a disease and he is sick from the cold, the sign read. If you could spare a bit of food, clothing, or some money, that would be great.
Image

"If everyone is one, none will be afraid."

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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Celtic » 12/10/2009 9:56 PM

This place didn't seem to shabby, and it looked like this little here hobo did alot for his or her money. The tent was only patched in a couple places and it seemed that the cardboard box had been given away a while ago. It was secure enough, but wind looked like it could get in easily. Very, very easily.

Until that is a Piyo walked out with its chest puffed out, looking as built as a piyo can look. This gruff looking fellow looked like if you didn't give him your money he would eat you. Or beat you up. Didn't seem like he was the type to end up begging much for food. He stopped a few feet in front of you and snapped his feathers. Out ran a Dire Fenref who was holding a sign in his mouth. The llittle piyo climbed aboard the scary looking thing to just seem more intimidating. The sign read simply:

Gimme your lunch money

Bullies just weren't very creative were they? Oh well, maybe someone would relieve him sometime and there would be some creativeness. But obviously not now.





always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

- e. e. cummings


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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby MillietheWarrior » 12/10/2009 10:29 PM

A small, poorly cut cardboard sign leaned up against a large, tipped over cardboard box. A Sad Tricky sat beside the box, awkwardly holding a very ratty looking umbrella over it’s head to keep the snow from falling on it. The sign said “SonGs for MonEy $$$,” in very squiggly, very bad hand-writing. On top of the shabby looking box, sat another Tricky, this one with a very indignant look on it’s face. It’s chubby cheeks were puffed up as it huffed unhappily, little flippers wiggling in dismay. It obviously wasn’t used to be the center of attention, much less the center of attention on top of a nasty old cardboard box.

The Sad Tricky slapped a flipper against the concrete to get your attention, and waited patiently until you looked down at it. It seemed it’s chubby cheeks were puffed out as well (Maybe that was just how they looked, though) and it wiggled it’s little tail to turn itself towards you. “Hey, you. You gonna stand there gawkin’? Or you gonna throw us some coin?” He pushed a small hat (What did a Tricky need with a hat?) towards you, as if waiting for you to throw something in. The Tricky on the box looked flustered, and wiggled it’s body as if to get your attention. “Oh, so sorry. Don’t mind him. He’s very…Rude, if you hadn’t noticed. But if you’d like to hear a song, I’d gladly sing for a bit of money. You see, we’re trying to earn some keystones for-”

She was cut off by the Sad Tricky making another slapping sound with it’s flippers. “Yo, we ain’t here to bore them with a sob story. Just get on with it.” The Tricky looked embarrassed, and smiled. “Oh yes, sorry about that!” She cleared her throat, not waiting for you to agree to hear the song, and began to sing in a warbling, squeaky voice.

“Dashing through the snow,
In a one Cavallion open sleigh,
Buying up the gifts,
Before Christmas day!
Bells on Rexxels ring!
Making spirits bright!
What fun it is to ride and sing an Evelon song tonight!
Ohhh! Jingle Baals, jingle Baals,
Jingle all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to ride,
In a one Cavallion open sleigh!
Jingle Baals, jingle Baals,
Jingle all the way,
Oh, what fun it is to ride,
In a one Cavallion open sleigh!”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Knightdaniru » 12/10/2009 10:58 PM

ImageImage
"Master says we need funds?" The bleeder asked, her voice shrill. "What ever do we need them for?"
The Myu Reaper sighed propping a cardboard sign against wall. "You know better than me, Darky. You're his bleeder. Go bleed on the sign. Only on one shoulder is annoying!"
The bleeder grumbled, but hopped to where she was pertched on the sign. Glancing down to check to make sure there wasn't anything bad again, it met her expectations, however annoying. And misspelled. Kole had one heck of a since of humor. Poor litel kity needs monys. Dont mind harmles bleder. It read. Harmless? Ha ha, sure... Dark Star could only hope the thing looked genuine. It was difficult to beleive it would.
Deliliah had gone to grooming herself. She seemed almost normal right now. She wasn't off ranting about something. But when an illegible letter had to be scribbled out on one side, the crazy Myuu Reaper insisted on repeating the action on the other. Darn picky kitties were too hard to comprehend.
And here she was stuck out here with one, begging for Keystones none the less. How pride wounding. She just wanted to be back at the meadow with Nafarious.  It was odd for a bleeder to be separated from her master for so long.
At least hope was they would pick up some money. Especially with Dililah making that adorable kitty face and mewling sweetly. She would look innocent to anyone who didn't know her insanity.
You may call, you may call
But the little black cats won't hear you.
The little black cats are maddened
By the bright green light of the moon;
They are whirling and running and hiding,
They are wild who were once so confiding,
They are crazed when the moon is riding
You will not catch the kittens soon.
They care not for saucers of milk,
They think not of pillows of silk;
Your softest, crooningest call
Is less than the buzzing of flies.
They are seeing more than you see,
They are hearing more than you hear,
And out of the darkness they peer.
With a goblin light in their eyes!

The Bad Kitties
By Elizabeth Coatsworth

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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Icey » 12/11/2009 12:05 AM

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Clouds of fog seemed to drift from her nose and mouth like a sleeping dragons smoke. She sat on an old, dull, blanket, red in color, that had intracate hand woven patterns. Brass bells were tied around a light tamberine. She shook the instrument and hummed, a tune of her gypsy history.

"I'll read yer for'une for a bit of s'one!" She said softly, blue eyes swirling. Her ears twitched, hoops of bone clanked together as she played the small beat. "Look into meh crys'al ball, and see wha' yer fu'ure holds!" She exclaimed, beating her tamberine faster. She paused, looking hopefully.


"Bu' wh' woul' ye trus' meh?" She asked, seeming to know the question was at hand.

"'M no' like o'her Gypsies. I ran 'way fro' me fah'er 'cause I 'in't wanna ge' married. He tried ta sell meh for a cow he did!' She said, giving a small sigh. She was young, probably around seventeen or so.  "So 'ere I em, 'ryin ta find a way 'o 'is guy I me' in th' woods one day 'cause he tol' meh he woul' help!" She said, giving a small grin.

"Onl' pro'lem is I don' know 'ow ta fin' the git!" She said, giving a laugh. "So, 'ow 'bout you 'elp a la'y out, eh? Spare some change?" She said, holding out a tin cup. "I'll gla'ly read yer for'une" She added, smiling happily. Gypsies had no same, when they needed something they'd ask for it. Or take it, whichever one came first.




Image
[Why do we die?] (So you can live!)
[Why do we strive?]
(So you can win! But why did you defy every truthful word I recommend?)
[My question back, why do you recommend an ode temptation]

ImageImage
(So I can test your patience and tolerance in the face of sin)
[But why attest when you hold all the answers to the state we in?
(For you to bear witness of imperfections of mortal men)
[So it's a lesson?]
(And a blessing Journey back to where you been 'Cause before the tree can flourish seeds must first be planted in)
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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby HunnyBun » 12/11/2009 12:22 AM

Image Image
Gloom~~~~~~Doom

The two Reapers sat next to an old dumpster.
Licking their paws and looking like normal street cats.
The only thing that looked out of place was a cardboard sign sitting against the trash can.
"Will give you love for KS" it read.
What was the love they would give?
Well, what love can a cat offer?
Sit in your lap, allow you to pet them, company.
Just the normal cat stuff.
The Invert Myuu Reaper stretched and looked to the Myuu Reaper.
"You sure anyone will actually go with this?" He asked.
The Myuu Reaper looked at him with lazy eyes.
"I hope." She replied.
"You hope? What kind of answer is that?" The Invert asked back.
But she didn't answer.
"I mean, if we're not getting anything out of it, then why are we wasting our time here?" He asked.
But she just rolled her eyes at him.
"Keep you mouth shut and look cute." She finally said.
Walking over to the sign and curling up next to it.
"Cute?" He repeated.
Taking a seat next to her.


We're waiting every night
To finally roam and invite
Newcomers to play with us
For many years we've been all alone

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.: ~Sales~ :.
.: ~Breeder~ :.
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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Leaftail » 12/11/2009 10:49 AM

Iskim sat on the Hobo Corner, shifting his one eye about. Why did Haipaa put him here? Out of all the places, he was put here where everyone could see him, one eye and all. Plus, the blood on his matted fur didn't help much or his torn wings. He looked...scary. Or in Haipaa's eyes, in need of some help and would swoon everyone's hearts into donating some precious KS to help him. Iskim thought this was a bad idea, and surely enough, in his mind it was. People kept walking past and staring at him like he was some abomination kuhna or something. In front of him a paper sign, which was duct-taped to the concrete read "Needs help, please help" in scribble writing.They had to go to Atlas to get the sign made, and being the lazy thing he was, Atlas just gave them a piece of paper with human scribble on it. Of course, Iskim and Haipaa couldn't read so what difference did it make about what it said?

None in their eyes that was for sure. Then, Haipaa had dropped him off here, in hopes of something to happen. He had said "All you have to do is sit there, look cute, and magic happens,". What sort of magic was that? Having people stare at you in utter disgust? Some magic that was...

Iskim sighed and glanced up at the sky. Haipaa said he would return as the sun went down, but the sun was still visible, even in this dark and dreary place he sat. Glancing about, he noticed he wasn't the only one sitting on the corner. Competition. He decided he would play the helpless roll, maybe better magic would happen, and lay down on his side, legs stretched out, and a helpless look on his face. Maybe if he looked skinny, and malnourished, that would do the trick, so he sucked his stomach in till the outline of his ribs were visible. Now, the waiting starting.
Image Image

Name: Haipaa / Name: Iskim
Level: 10 / Level: 4
Posts: 49/ Posts: 19

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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Thessur » 12/11/2009 3:44 PM

ImageImageImage


Three young ferrikoons were camped out at Hobo Corner.  The oldest, a cobalt colored male, was perched on top of a trash can. His sisters, an original and a biolune, were sitting on some old crates beside him.  All three wore threadbare coats, homemade knit caps and gloves, and well-worn boots.  The common colored female was playing Christmas carols on a well loved, battered old guitar.  On the ground in front of them there was an old, empty cookie tin with 'Merry Christmas (donations appreciated)' scrawled on the side in red and green marker.

For being stuck at the corner, the three looked oddly cheerful.  They would shoot each other meaningful looks and laugh over jokes that only the three of them understood.  The little biolune girl, the youngest of the three, would smile and wave, calling out "Happy Holidays!" to anyone passing by.

After a little while, the common girl struck up a cheery tune and turned to her siblings.
"Alright you guys, Ready to sing our song?"
"I'd say we are." Said the cobalt boy, looking suddenly more interested.
The youngest girl jumped up and stood on her crate.
"Yeah, Lets sing it now Trin!"
The girl playing guitar laughed at her sister's enthusiasm.
"Okay, wanna start us off Truff?"
"Alrighty Trin, you ready Triss?  ...Triss?  TRISS!"

While her older siblings had been talking, Triss had gotten distracted and started dancing on her crate.  Her brother’s shout brought her back to reality.  She clapped and shouted happily.

"Okay!"

Then the three started singing.

Christmas, Christmas time is near,
Time for toys and time for cheer.
We've been good, but we can't last,
Hurry Christmas, Hurry fast.
Want a plane that loops the loop,

Me, I want a Hula-Hoop.

We can hardly stand the wait,
Please Christmas don't be late.



Truff (6), Trin (6), Triss (6)


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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Jessari » 12/11/2009 8:21 PM

Image  Image  Image

First came the Smell. The Smell, which had grown strong enough to develop its own personality, always preceded Foul Old Ron, sometimes arriving ten full minutes before Foul Old Ron himself did. And Foul Old Ron was coming.

"Buggrit!"

Today, it seemed that Foul Old Ron and his Smell had synchronized their watches, for he showed up a mere two minutes after the eye-watering stench had. He was tall and thin, and wearing clothes so old that they might have been hand-me-downs from Noah himself. Constantly scratching at one sore or another, he muttered non-stop. Some of the things he mumbled are unprintable, but one phrase kept showing up time and time again: "Millennium hand and shrimp! I told 'em, I did."

Hacking and coughing, Foul Old Ron and his Smell made their way to the cardboard box he called a home. From inside, Foul Old Ron withdrew a worn and battered sign that read, "To boxx fer 10 shilings eech. In kwire hear." He leaned it up against a nearby trash can, then pulled two small boxes out from within his jacket and hugged them protectively against his chest as he sat down and waited for offers.

((Note: I'm not selling these gift boxes, although Foul Old Ron would certainly like me to. :P ))
Feed me chicky nuggies and chokky milk.

Image

This is the way...


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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Pyris » 12/11/2009 8:22 PM

Lazy and bored, Cake thought she'd try her hand at being a hobo, so on the corner she sat with her sign and her hat, waiting for handouts to come.  Her paw tapped to an unknown, seemingly random tune, while two tails swayed left or right.  The rat-man looked rather odd, and there were others scattered about the corner, so she decided she might just begin to occupy herself, since they were so focused on doing whatever it was that other hobos did.

Looking around at all the crates and boxes, she began to build with them, one by one.  She found some shiny metal aluminum that reflected the city's lights rather well, and flecked it around her little structure, just here and there.  Pyris had said she had to stay out here for awhile, and to do something different than everybody else, so instead of being a hobo, she'd built a little gingerbread house.  Of course, instead of gingerbread cookies, it was cardboard, but who was she to sweat the small stuff, anyway?

On the door she thought she'd do her pen person proud, so she found a stray sharpie and scribbled, "Donate here to bring some cheer."  Sitting back and surveying her handywork, Cake realized she'd forgotten to save herself a box or crate and sadly, she'd had to go dig up another one just to make a seat.










"If I died today, would you remember me forever?"



"Even if I die...Forever."




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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby jobiehanna » 12/11/2009 10:55 PM

Isilvar had been sent away because he was bothering the younger kuhnas back at his home. He hadn't been told where to go, so he went were he wanted to go. He didn't know why, but he now found himself at the Hobo Corner with all the hobos and beggars. At this moment he was dragging a very rundown cardboard box, if you can call a cardboard box run down. The box tasted horrible in his mouth, but it didn't bother Isilvar much, because he was used to the taste of foul things. He had grown up a street rat. Stealing to live, living to steal, you know the deal, was his motto. He had always been underfed, and he still had the look about him. He dropped the carbboard box from his mouth and watched it as half the box collasped. It was perfect. This would help his cause, to get what he wanted. He hung his sign on the box. It was a sheet of yellow-brown parchment with many stains covering it. The sign read, "Please donate, I'm starvin'!" in chickken-scratch. Isilvar never had good hand-writing to begin with, so this was his hand-writing. His plan was perfect. He forced himself inside of the part of the box that was still standing up. He placed a small tin cup in between his front paws. Then he closed his eyes to compose himself. When he opened his eyes he was a completely different kuhna. His eyes were sad and his mouth was curved into a frown. He lay in the box, though he was only half in the box. He looked up sadly at the passers-by, hoping for a donation of any kind. Maybe my 'friends' back at home will appreciate the extra ks, since the holidays are here, he thought.

And I was runnin' far away
Would I run off the world someday?
Nobody knows
Nobody knows, and
I was dancing in the rain
I felt alive and I can't complain


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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby Elektra » 12/12/2009 3:05 AM

Orpheus was camped out under the ledge of a crumpling windowsill, hoping to catch the attention of a few people with coin purse ringing with extra KS. She needed them so badly in order to help herself and her little sister Shaetani. She was in debt, and now a few of the more shady characters at the falls were begining to pose a more serious threat. "Anyone interested their fortune?  An accurate tale of your future..." She waited, hoping that someone would atleast give her a passing glance.  "Please, any offer is appreciated, even the tiniest amount. My sister and I have to have something to live on, so please help us."  pleaded Orpheus. After a little while, she sat down and waited hopefully.  Soon Orpheus decided that she was going to throw out one last card, her singing voice.  "Christmas is slay bells, Christmas is caring.  Christmas is holly, Christmas is sharing.  Christmas is children who just can't go to sleep.  Christmas is memories; the kind you always keep. "  Her voice was melodious and floated through the air like a small  wisp of joy.


Image


If you knew knew what the bluebirds sang at you
You would never sing along
Cast them out cause this is our culture
These new flocks are nothing but vultures

Because they took our love and they filled it up
Filled it up with Novocaine and now Im just numb
And don't mind me, Im just a son of a gun
So dont stop, dont stop until your heart goes numb
I dont feel a thing for you

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Re: .:The Hobo Corner:.

Postby dragon1000 » 12/12/2009 12:13 PM

Image

A cloaked woman driving her car quickly drove through Aldrect. Clutching  a rather tattered and blood-covered girl right out of her window . " You worthless piece of crap. You can't do anything" !!!!!!!! The cloaked woman yelled. Once she got to the hobo corner without stopping she tossed the blood-covered girl onto the hard cold sidewalk. She groaned. The girl got up and looked up at Morgo. " Hi I'm Zombea. Huh, this place looks alot like my room at my master's house the one who tossed me out of her car.", she said.  She had heard him say his name and muttered something, about his master. She walked to a spot that had a lot of boxes. Zombea made a sign that said, "Recently tossed here, hungry, in desperate need of munies, master claims to be Baal's cousin."  She held up the sign and awkwardly danced around.  

(1)
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