Rosemary Promises
I'm on here, working on some stuff...Won't start putting out the adverts until the new year, I think, probably after Dia del Los Reyes. But soon we'll have canons, and better boards, and maybe some better pips and stuff!
P.S! REMEMBER TO JOIN WITH YOUR CHARACTERS First AND Surname, NOT A USERNAME <3
-Vox (constance eytinge & paul black)
THE PLOT
The year is 2046, and a distinctly uncomfortable feeling is rampant in England. People are starting to ask you if you were referring to the birds, when you say that Parliament is reliable in it's racket. The banks are crumbling, and the economy is slowly slipping. But England, as the grim lady, one-time mistress of the high seas, refuses to fall, and is holding up still. Will the government remain in control? Will vigilantes take over this once majestic empire like they have so many others?
The stubbornly superstitious townsfolk of Tyr knew when World War I was coming, they had been told by the woods and the flowers they cherished. They know now that this situation will only get worse before it gets better, the flowers told them so. But how will the oldest rosemary bush, the treasure of Tyr, and the Great Lady of England as they call her, protect them from harm now? How will she hold up against this merciless war of collapsing banks, rising food prices and raging governments that are losing their relevance?
The Greater Families of Tyr, named after the flowers they cared for in their neat little copses and meadows, have been a part of the town since England was first conquered. But the noble blood is thinning, and less store is put by what nature tells the remaining members of those Great families. Intuition, once so strong in the lines of the Foxgloves and the Hyacinths of the law, the amusingly cheery Crocus' in the arts, and the particularly nature-loving Magnolias who had always been in charge of the Summer Flower Festival, was no draining away, cynisism and moden materialism taking it's place. Who knows how long Tyr will last...How long England will last.
The townfolk say that as long as faith in the oldest rosemary lasts, so will the town. And perhaps they are right. As the guardian of the town, the rosemary has given it's word to the people, in it's own way, that it will guide them through trouble. But oaths and vows and promises do little to sway a blindly panicking human mind, and those who do not wish to see the signposts, will not see them. Humans break, forget, disregard promises. Flowers do not.
THE SETTING
Tyr, Southeast England. Somewhere in the counties of Kent, Sussex or Surrey there is a town, named after the norse god who sacrificed a hand to the great wolf Fenris, that was settled by injured Saxons and merciful Romans, with a mixing of wild Woad blood, back in the Dark Ages.
Quaint despite it's large size, and townish despite it's great age, Tyr is a place of peace, and quiet, and of small gardens in front of cottagey houses with whitewashed walls.
The modern world has made it's stamp on Tyr, no doubt about that. With contemporary flats and new-style houses neighbouring the larger mansions that once belonged to the Greater Families of Tyr, and estate owners, it has every appearance of a small British village turned rather popular rural town that is the first stop for those who cannot afford to live where they work in the larger cities of southeast England.
Bordered by impressive meadows, filled with glorious wildflowers, and mossily floored woods that yield lovely bluebells in April and May, Tyr is a picturesque little town that feels rather put upon by the sudden rush of new people within the past century or so.
All through the town, the presence of the rosemary bushes can be felt, both in their subtle-to-strong smell of citrusy pine needles and the sight of them in almost every garden, and it adds to the charm. It can be rather a shock to the newcomer to hear the serious, no-nonsense way people refer to the Great Lady of England, as if the oldest rosemary bush was the town's patron saint, but everybody gets used it after a while.
Superstitious, but cheerful, and bright-eyed, the townsfolk of Tyr, and those who live in the surrounding areas, are always civil and pleasant. And that kind of neighbourly 'affection' is rare...These days.
THE CREDITS
Sidebar: Dana
Coding Help: RCR
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Welcome back; your last visit was on Feb 9 2010, 07:20 PM
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bare bones
read this first, it contains all the essentials you will need to know--including the introduction, the plot, the rules and a guide to the general layout--before and while you are a member of Rosemary Promises.
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Dec 26 2008, 01:43 PM
In:  INTRODUCTION
By: Constance Eytinge |
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news
the staff will post notices here, most of them concerning the whole of Rosemary Promises, so it's a good idea to take a look of this board every now and then. you WILL be tested on this, haha. no really.
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gadding
a place to share ideas, chit-chat, post notices of your absences/leaving, and have fun. as long as it abides by our, and the invisionfree, terms and conditions, it's fine.
subboard for games.
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affiliations & adverts
from another site? this is a guest friendly board where you may post your forum's advertisement or an affiliation request. for affiliation rules, see the thread inside.
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character biographies
as the title states, this is where you post your character's filled out applications, and wait for acceptance by a staff member. please do message staff if you don't understand something, or if you feel you can't make the length requirement. we can't help if we don't know!
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Dec 29 2008, 02:12 PM
In: CHARACTER TEMPLATE
By: Constance Eytinge |
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adoptions & requests
have too many characters to manage? want to put out a request for a certain character you want created and played by someone else? or do you simply want a certain relationship filled in by another character? here's the place to post your soon-to-be-ex character's biography, to place your request, or to respond to any of the aforementioned things.
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Dec 29 2008, 03:42 PM
In: CANONS
By: Constance Eytinge |
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in character cbox
the in character cbox, visible and usable only by registered members of Rosemary Promises.
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Dec 29 2008, 04:19 PM
In: call me Hal
By: Constance Eytinge |
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Tyr town centre
The town centre is made up of what used to be called 'original Tyr'. The old fashioned Tyr town centre is at the very heart of the town, with cobbled roads, shops that are owned by single families with signs that say 'established 1708' or 'serving Tyr since 1864', and the town hall. Some of the smaller, but charming, flats and houses are in this heart of the town, built one next to the other, with connecting attics and original stone architecture.
The greengrocers, the seamstress, the doctor (rather small practice, just moved in a few years ago, but adequate for Tyr's needs), the town hall (one of the oldest buildings in the surrounding counties, though much renovated), and various lanes and streets that are home to the Greatest Families of Tyr may be found here, and this is where the great annual Summer Flower Festival is held, along with the Spring to Autumn Farmer's Market.
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Outskirts of Tyr
Quaint, small, and slightly rural, the place that is Tyr rests in England's Southeast coast. A rich, thick forest once lived where the town sits now, but early tree clearing left only a flat, slightly hilly expanse of terrain and the meadow that surrounds it. A series of small woods dot the properties in Tyr, but fields and dales make up most of it's geography.
The outskirts of Tyr are made up mostly of what used to be farmland and large estates that were rented out to tenants who, with the absence of their lords, now own their own respective parcels of land.
Houses owned by families, working individuals, or even the young people who have the money for their own place, there is a varied group beyond the downtown of Tyr, and therefore varied types of land. Small patches of field with cottages, many hectares of fertile forest lumped to an old mansion, or even modern housing with an old, rickety barn in the Yorkshire style, made with moorstones and set with red doors.
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the Meadow
In the spring, it is a still, dewy landscape, with the first birds chirping merrily from the sky, or their perches in the neighboring wood; the first buds peek out of the plants, as if they were noncommital dabs of vivid paint on a pale, majestic oil painting.
In the summer, the meadow is a burst of colour and life. Rabbits dart through the copses, bird keen through the air in an aerial ballet of movement, and fresh deer trails are apparent in the longer grass. Wildflowers of all kind are to be found here, surrounded by industrious bees and admiring butterflies. The smell is sometimes overpowering, the perfume of the flowers at times cloying and at others mild and pleasant.
In autumn, it is usually damp, and down-trodden, with the grimmer flowers and plants dominating the landscape, brightened by the ethereal ferns lurking in corners, and asters twinkling brightly from under bushes in the copses.
In winter, all is peaceful, and usually, white. Frost covers all life, and there is stillness in the field where flowers grow. Quiet, and normally undisturbed by visitors between the months of December and March, the meadow lies under a thick white blanket, or a crusty white sheet, and waits patiently for spring.
Large and vaguely hilly, the meadow is off to the west of the Tyr town centre, and is the source of much reverence from the old townsfolk, and a point of interest for the tourists, because of all the tales revolving around this everyday, though beautiful, patch of field.
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Skin (NEW GLORY) by WITH RELISH! of RCR & WHAC
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