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RP Sample (Yaana)
___Yaana stretched her massive ebony wings as she lazed against a cold stone pillar overlooking her perch. She clicked her claws together sighing, "What a useless creation am I; a Gargoyle with nothing worth guarding." The villagers had stopped coming to the silent church centuries ago when the Vampire Wars had raged. Then Yaana had had her hands so full of responsiblilties, the Elder Statues had to be called in. And soon after the vampires were driven from her land and centuries of boredom ensued. Yaana often had to resort to saving a villager from a hungry wolf just to keep her claws sharpened.
___"And of course it can't be anything interesting like a werewolf..." Yanna leaned back on her elbows and stretched her upturned face to the sun, "Haven't had a werewolf attack since Rossen's day..." Rossen has been Yaana's favorite of the human clergy that occupied the nearly vacant cathedral throughout the years. He had been very unpredictable for a human, as far as priests go anyway, and he was the only one who ever bothered to converse with Yaana. The rest treated her as if she were cursed with the plague, though they remembered to thank her monthly for her protection.
___Yaana glanced at the glittering pile of treasure and rolled her ruby eyes. "I suppose they are fine as well as jewels go but it insults me that they would put me on the same level as the mermaids with their trinkets or the greedy dragon's with their hoards!" She snorted as if on the verge of anger but then quickly cooled back to her passive state. "At least they mean well, small minded humans..." And with that thought, she drifted off to sleep...
___...Several hours later Yaana woke, glancing toward the now moon-lit road as was her habit. Of course there wasn't a soul in sight, evil or otherwise. Even though the vampires hadn't shown themselves in over six hundred years, the superstitious villagers still refused to make the trek over the river to Sunday chapel. So the recent generations of priests had begun teaching the Message in the main town pavilion each week.
___"Well, Sturik shan't be about for another day at least, pompous old wind bag," Yanna muttered to no one in particular. She very much disliked the new priest from the Penninsula; he tended to make believe Yaana was non-existent. (She quickly rectified these 'sinful' thoughts with the light toss of a boulder and a growl fit to wake Rossen from his eternal slumber.)
___"I could use a stretch of my wings...I'm sure no evil will settle over the land whilst I'm gone." With a slight yawn, Yanna gathered herself on the edge of the carved precipice and unfurled her massive wings as gravity guided her downwards and the air currents guided her forward. She glided silently over the forest, the full moon creating a frightening silhouette of the stone warrior's body as it moved swiftly over the canopy.
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