- Each Role Play or game needing rules with have the following posted in the first post at the top of the post. Role Plays and games needing rules that do not have this posted will be closed and not allowed to reopen.
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A) By participating in this game, I promise that all BYC Rules will be followed and that I have read and understood the Role Play Rules that are in a sticky at the top of the Games forum.
B) I promise that all content is to be rated G and suitable for all ages.
C) I promise that there will be no swearing, cursing (including censoring by using symbols) or inappropriate adult sexual activity or innuendo. This extends to mating, breeding or innuendo in non-human characters as well.
D) I promise to treat others with respect and kindness as is the BYC way.
E) I promise not to post any material that is a violation of copyright. Basically this means: if you didn't create the content (like an image / picture) and don't have direct permission from the content creator to post it, then don't.
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2) No one will be excluded (banned, kicked out, etc) from the role plays except by BYC Staff.
3) While we expect that the originators of the game will set the tone and theme for the game, they are not moderators and will not act or represent themselves as such.
4) Role Plays and games are not owned by role play originators and are not to be claimed as such.
5) You agree not to post any material that is a violation of copyright. Basically this means: if you didn't create the content (like an image / picture) and don't have direct permission from the content creator to post it, then don't. If your role play has copyrighted images, you need to remove them.
6) Do not post violent, gory or murderous games. they will be closed without warning.
7) We realize this is strict, but BYC is a place for all ages to come and learn about chickens. We want everyone to feel safe here. If these rules are too restrictive, there are places on the internet where free-for-all games are allowed.
«We Could Be Legends»
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It's Saturday morning. Rainy, of course. Would be a shame if it were to be a nice, warm weekend for once and maybe sleep in for once! But noooo. Here I sit in a booth the pancake house in my PJ's and fuzzy bunny houserobe at 7:00 A.M.
"Why am I up so early?" I mumble to myself as I watch the customers eat their pancakes. Well, I know why. Its 'because parents,' that's why. Mom's out running errands or something, so Zion and I had to get up at the buttcrack of dawn and go with Dad to work so he could 'watch us,' even though we're both 17 and practically adults.
But I guess I do get breakfast this way.
I take off my prosthetic leg and lay it on the table, then take my shoe off and do the same, snuggling into my robe like an angry little turtle. I should still be asleep right now. And it's cold in here. And it's still raining. I hate today.
"Delilah, get your shoes off the table." Dad sighs as comes with his server's tray in hand. He's shaped a bit different than normal humans. Kinda shorter with some different muscling, especially on his back, but I guess you wouldn't notice that at first glance. There's something steaming on top of the tray he's holding, which is certainly more interesting.
Not giving a crap about my shoes, I ignore him. "Coffee?" I demand, eyeing the tray.
He sighs, raising his brow at me as he stifles a yawn. His eyes are still droopy, and his hair's a mess this morning, "Can I get a 'pleeease'?" Dad says, holding the bowl-sized mug of deliciousness over my head.
I think a moment. I don't feel like saying please, but... coffee. "Pleeease," I growl through sharp, gritted teeth. You know , just for effect.
Oh, I guess I should take this opportunity to say I'm not a normal human, either. Well, "normal" in the original sense. I think Inhumans are supposed to outnumber the Originals like 57% to 43% now, or something like that.
I'm a shapeshifter like my mother, Misty. I didn't get a cool Skin like a wolf or a tiger or anything dangerous. I wish it were a tiger, though. Wouldn't that be awesome? But no. Just like this rainy, up-too-early, stinky Saturday morning, I got the short end of the stick. My Skin is a grey fox, barely bigger than a housecat. I don't have a leg below the knee in that Skin, either, which also sucks.
Dad sits the coffee down on the table, next to my shoes and leg. Just as I reach for it, he puts his hand on my head musses up my hair, to which I gave a growl. "Where's Zi?" He asked.
I shrug, clutching my coffee close and taking a sip. When my lips broke through the thick layer of cream on top, there was a wonderful embrace of hot, sugary, cinnamon-flavored caffeine waiting for me. Mmmm.
"I guess he's in the bathroom," Dad said, coming to the conclusion on his own. See that's not so hard, is it? Thinking for yourself, rather than asking me stupid questions. He retreated back into the kitchen to continue doing whatever. Probably something to do with pancakes.
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