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Boleyn, George
Topic Started: Jul 28 2010, 11:14 PM (464 Views)
George Boleyn
Unregistered

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GEORGE BOLEYN

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* I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me .

HEY THERE. THE NAME IS SAMMAY, AND I AM 17.
I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR ABOUT 3-4 years
AND MY OTHER CHARACTERS WOULD BE Not presesnt. I FOUND FKAC AT caution cause i stalk that site haha. OH, BY THE WAY, I READ THE RULES. WANT PROOF?
THE CODE WORD IS pumpernickel
WANT TO REACH ME? HERE'S MY IM: i will tell you as soon as i find time to download aim -__-

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Since my birth, Mother and Father assured themselves that I was destined to give life to the family ambitions. I was the only male child after several failures, and that alone was enough to enforce the belief that I was special. Though at this time a girl is much more valuable, as it is easier to slip her into the King's bed. Luckily for us Boleyns we have two lovely women at our disposable.

It sounds cruel to talk about one's sisters as if they were prime cuts at the meat market, but that's the way us Boleyns are. We all know the cost of our ambitions, and if one of my sisters were to catch the King's eye, they understand their duty to the family. I suppose that is why we are not the most popular family at Court. Our vaulting ambition has secluded us to a life of secret plots and carefully masked plans. That is not to say that I lack friends. Many people are quite fond of me, actually. Rather, we are a family that is not to be trusted easily, and for good reason.

As a diplomat and politician himself, my father expected no less of me. At the age of ten he sent me to court to participate in the Christmas festivities. Henry VII was so taken by my charm, which always manages to impress, and demanded I serve as his pageboy. Never failing to spot an opportunity, my father immediately had me educated by a series of private tutors. To say we Boleyns are an intelligent batch is very much an understatement. All would agree that our wits are superior to most.

While my sisters Anne and Mary were sent to France, I remained in England studying hard and working my way through the politics of Court. I watched Arthur die young, Henry VII die old and Henry VIII ascend to the throne as an excitable youth only years older than I. In this new court I found my good looks and charm even more valuable. No one cared for the wise old nobles who previously ran court. It was much more profitable to place your faith in a pretty, young man with all the cards in his hands. I happen to exemplify that type of man.

As a Boleyn I also have another ace up my sleeve: my connection to the Howard Line. Admittedly my uncle, Thomas Howard, is a man who sends chills up my spine with his heartless demeanor. However, he is also a man who sees great promise in my sisters and I. For the time being he enjoys my company and my ideas on how to further the Boleyns, and thus further the Howards. Anne and I both care for our family's well being and position at Court. Mary is different from us. She cares more the for the state of her hair than what is happening in England.

I should not be so critical. We all have interests outside the family. Mary entertains men, Anne has her fashion and I have my gambling. And my women; yes, how I love my women. It is no secret at Court that I have had several affairs. I prefer to think of it as sampling the merchandise, no one wants a wife whose skills fall short of their own. The problem is that once I have had a woman, I find myself bored with her. I am never one to settle easily and have yet to find a woman whose intelligence is rivaled only by her fair looks.

I am sure the people of Court would agree that Jane Parker is a good match, but I can assure you my vile betrothed is everything I do not want in a woman. She is cruel and calculating, and makes no secret of her grand curiosity. She is always poking her nose in everyones business. That is not the type of person I wish to be associated with. Father and Uncle swear on the Lord himself that the match will prove profitable to the Boleyns, but I can only see misfortune come from such a horrendous woman. I suppose in a year or two we could divorce one another, but that is not the fashionable thing to do in England.

I am not as terrible as they say. If my looks are not enough to convince you, then my way with words is. I was trained to be the perfect courtier. I am a jester one moment, but a diplomat the next. My variety can take me very far in this court. I am positive I sound aggressive and over confident, but there is no use in hiding it. I know my skills, and know that they will take me to high places. I tend to go after the things I want, but I still know how to have fun in between the plotting and scheming. After all, I am a Boleyn, and we are destined for greatness. It is practically written in the stars.


  • - - - - Roleplay Sample,

    He could still remember that day, ten years ago.Dark clouds flying over his head. Thunder cracking the sky like a whip, threatening to strike. Damien Conners was oddly at peace. His face was serene as it tilted upward towards the sky, catching rain drops on his tongue. The grocery bags in his hands were slipping from his grasp, and Ivory would have his head if he cracked the eggs. He gripped the plastic tighter, letting the raindrops fall against his caramel skin.

    "This is it," he whispered to himself, letting the bags crash to the ground. In an instant he was taken back to their wedding day, surrounded by meaningless people whispering equally meaningless things to him. Behind him stood a pale figure in flowing white dress, caressing his shoulders with affection. She whispered seductively into his ear, kissing his neck and back with love. Damien could not bring the affectionate bride into his arms, because he did not love her the way she loved him. The people watched, assuming they were basking in each others love, but even then the strings of doubt were tugging Damien away from Ivory.

    Flash forward, or so it seemed, to a house surrounded in light. Two children scamper across the living room while Ivory screams from the bedroom. "My pearls!" she shrieks. She is bent underneath the bureau searching for her necklace. She is frantic, and her hands are quick to check every inch of the shadowy floor beneath the furniture. She rises quickly, turning on her heels towards Damien. "You were the last one to touch them!" she accuses, rounding on him with force and aggression. He argued with her, but she insisted that he was the last one near the pearls. Finally, he promised her a new set, despite their tight budget. The anger in her face melted and she wrapped her thin arms around his burly neck, nestling her chin into the spot where his neck curves into his shoulder.

    He had spun around between the raindrops, wishing to escape quickly from the startling reality of a loveless marriage. "Help!" he cried, attracting the attention of others in the parking lot of Pathmark. He didn't seem to care. He screamed with conviction till his lungs wore out, and he was on his knees in the rain. The drops melted in his skin, marking the pain and frustration he felt. He questioned his reasons for staying, what he was doing in a suburb like this. He was an artist whose creativity had been stifled by conformity. He grabbed the keys to his car, abandoning the groceries in the middle of the lot. He started the engine, and exited the lot, driving straight down lanes of homes containing families settling down to dinner. Forty three dollars to start a life away from this hell. Less than fifty dollars to abandon his family, his wife, and his cage.

    In that instant he was positive he could not drive away from the home he had built with Ivory. However, ten years later, looking into the eyes of Darcy, his decision had seemed right. "It's not that I still love her, Darce, it's just I need to be alone when she comes," Darcy always brought up Ivory. Whenever they were alone she would question him. His desperation to avoid discussing the wife he separated from was evident. Darcy was nervous, understandably, because Ivory was coming down to sign the divorce papers today. It would be the first time Ivory and Darcy had spoken, and Damien wanted to keep the two women in his life from ever meeting one another.

    I just don't understand why she has to even come, why can't she mail them to you?

    As much as Damien adored Darcy, her incessant quest for answers irked him to no end. Why couldn't she accept that Ivory and him needed closure. "It's about the closure babe, it's going to be really quick I swear."

    "I'm late to my audition anyway, just text me when she's gone I guess,"

    Damien sighed, unsure of whether to chase after Darcy, or remain in Starbucks. Reluctantly Damien sank into the comfortable leather couch. He would need all his strength to deal with Ivory, an argument with Darcy would leave him drained.
[align=center] THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY THATSNOTMYNAME ! @ CAUTION EDITED BY LANIE OF FKAC [/align]
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Cardinal Thomas Wolsey
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Make sure to head on over to the FACE CLAIM and claim your PB.
We want to know the person behind the character! INTRODUCE yourself.
Plot with other characters in the PLOT FORUM.
Want to join in threads with others, but not sure what to write first? Hop on into the THREAD EXTRAVAGANZA.
And be sure to post your info in the CONTACT LIST. [/align]
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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