Lowkey Gemini
*aggressively doesn't know*
a spot for my writing samples!
if you think you might be interest in rping with me, hit me up!
if you think you might be interest in rping with me, hit me up!
Other gem's writing samples
- Thread starter Lowkey Gemini
- Start date
Lowkey Gemini
*aggressively doesn't know*
THE OUTLANDS
starter post for a high-fantasy group roleplay i'm game-modding on iwaku.
written January 2021. no particular char.
written January 2021. no particular char.
It rains, the day Neskoria falls.
It had been a dry summer, so far. The country’s best water elementals were spread thin keeping the crops alive. The people were growing restless, but the High Priests had been doing all they could to assure the populace everything would be fine. Rain would come. They were in Gyezen’s hands after all.
How ironic, that when they finally received the blessing of rain, it was on the eve of their destruction.
The screams are unholy as the palace burns; the fires are undeterred by the water falling in sheets from the sky. A pyromancer’s work, then.
“Your majesty -”
“Did they get out?”
“Yes. Yes, they d-did, your majesty.”
The king turns his head. Wringing his hands and shaking like a leaf, the page is pale as a sheet of parchment. But his eyes hold a strength. A good man.
“Enough of that,” the king murmurs, turning back to watch the fires. “We’re about to die together. At least call me by my name.”
“Your majesty -”
“Almos.”
There’s a pause. “King Almos.”
He sighs. Close enough. Just then there’s a crash down the corridor. Another scream. The page jumps, and scrambles back a few steps. The door to his chambers is barricaded, and guarded by fifteen men at least. Almos doubts it will hold them for more than a few moments.
He turns to the page. Mamer, he thinks his name is. “You said they got out.”
“Y-Yes, you- Almos.”
“How many were with them?”
The screams get louder. Closer. The clashing of swords joins them.
“A-At least thirty sir.”
“Good,” Almos murmurs. The clashing of swords ceases. And then the banging starts. The barricade of furniture in front of the door shudders. “Let’s just hope Kirisnoti will accept them.”
By the gods, Almos wished he could say that Neskoria put up a fight the day Vabros came knocking. But the truth of the matter is, even if they had an inkling of what was to come, they would not have been able to stop it.
The barricade shudders. A few chairs fall off the top.
“Get behind me, Mamer,” Almos says, drawing his sword. The page scrambles behind his back, pressed against the window. Behind them, the fires rage.
The barricade falls, and the door swings open. Almos’s hand does not shake. Even as he knows that the country falls with him.
Almos raises his chin. “By Gyezen’s hands,” he says, and then he raises his sword.
Please, Almos thinks. Do not hold my faults against them.
Neskoria falls, and still, it rains.
---
On the other side of the continent, Midsummer preparations are in full swing. It isn’t to be just any Midsummer this year, however. It’s also the wedding, the wedding of a king.
Chief Kirisnoti, the Chief of all Chiefs, king by all rights, sits at the table with his family, laughing. The door opens behind him, and there’s a servant at his side, whispering in his ear. The table watches in growing concern as his smile freezes and then falls from his face.
He stands so harshly his chair falls back, and he sweeps from the room.
If the impenetrable kingdom of Neskoria has fallen, then the Outlands are next.
It had been a dry summer, so far. The country’s best water elementals were spread thin keeping the crops alive. The people were growing restless, but the High Priests had been doing all they could to assure the populace everything would be fine. Rain would come. They were in Gyezen’s hands after all.
How ironic, that when they finally received the blessing of rain, it was on the eve of their destruction.
The screams are unholy as the palace burns; the fires are undeterred by the water falling in sheets from the sky. A pyromancer’s work, then.
“Your majesty -”
“Did they get out?”
“Yes. Yes, they d-did, your majesty.”
The king turns his head. Wringing his hands and shaking like a leaf, the page is pale as a sheet of parchment. But his eyes hold a strength. A good man.
“Enough of that,” the king murmurs, turning back to watch the fires. “We’re about to die together. At least call me by my name.”
“Your majesty -”
“Almos.”
There’s a pause. “King Almos.”
He sighs. Close enough. Just then there’s a crash down the corridor. Another scream. The page jumps, and scrambles back a few steps. The door to his chambers is barricaded, and guarded by fifteen men at least. Almos doubts it will hold them for more than a few moments.
He turns to the page. Mamer, he thinks his name is. “You said they got out.”
“Y-Yes, you- Almos.”
“How many were with them?”
The screams get louder. Closer. The clashing of swords joins them.
“A-At least thirty sir.”
“Good,” Almos murmurs. The clashing of swords ceases. And then the banging starts. The barricade of furniture in front of the door shudders. “Let’s just hope Kirisnoti will accept them.”
By the gods, Almos wished he could say that Neskoria put up a fight the day Vabros came knocking. But the truth of the matter is, even if they had an inkling of what was to come, they would not have been able to stop it.
The barricade shudders. A few chairs fall off the top.
“Get behind me, Mamer,” Almos says, drawing his sword. The page scrambles behind his back, pressed against the window. Behind them, the fires rage.
The barricade falls, and the door swings open. Almos’s hand does not shake. Even as he knows that the country falls with him.
Almos raises his chin. “By Gyezen’s hands,” he says, and then he raises his sword.
Please, Almos thinks. Do not hold my faults against them.
Neskoria falls, and still, it rains.
---
On the other side of the continent, Midsummer preparations are in full swing. It isn’t to be just any Midsummer this year, however. It’s also the wedding, the wedding of a king.
Chief Kirisnoti, the Chief of all Chiefs, king by all rights, sits at the table with his family, laughing. The door opens behind him, and there’s a servant at his side, whispering in his ear. The table watches in growing concern as his smile freezes and then falls from his face.
He stands so harshly his chair falls back, and he sweeps from the room.
If the impenetrable kingdom of Neskoria has fallen, then the Outlands are next.
Last edited:
Lowkey Gemini
*aggressively doesn't know*
BAD DAY
post for an action-packed yet extremely chaotic roleplay.
written march 2021. feat. vessyr, a very old fae, and assassin.
tw; mild gore (threats of violence, descriptions of blood and aftermath of violence, falling on a sword)
written march 2021. feat. vessyr, a very old fae, and assassin.
tw; mild gore (threats of violence, descriptions of blood and aftermath of violence, falling on a sword)
What. What the fuck.
Vessyr stared blankly up at the sky, where he could see the swirling, molten red and dark grey ash clouds erupting from the still ejactulating volcano, through the armpit of one of the many clones that had served as their lifeboat.
Never, in his millenia, had he experienced anything like what had just happened. He had fought in the Great War with the Elves, and the Great War of Elves (two very different things); he had killed many creatures with his bare hands, creatures he didn’t even have names for; he had kissed a goat. But the sheer absurdity, the complete pandemonium… and the fucking sword.
As soon as he finished this godsforsaken job and hitched a ride from the nearest mode of transportation, he was finding whichever superior had assigned him this case and he was gutting them from crotch to tits.
“Eeys. Eeys,” he mumbled in his mother tongue. “Eeys o’ ass.”
It had been going so pleasantly. He and the drunkard had found a window to watch the volcano, without anyone else around, and had just been about to tell him that he did, in fact, know a bit about magic and perhaps he could help him out? when they were interrupted by the entrance of two more passengers. One of them had a skull painted on his face, not unlike Zazzy himself and the other was a young woman trying to sell him a sword. (A sword Vess recognized but that was neither here nor there.)
And that’s when things went to shit.
"Izzit just me or does it look like we're getting a bit too close to all this?"
“Ye-” Vess started to respond before the ship rocked hard, and what looked like another ship crashed through the ceiling impaling the second skull-man, who went berserk. Zazzy threw himself over Vess in an attempt to protect him, which he found highly ironic.
He very much did not want to grab that sword, thank you. But as the captain arrived, with a young girl, two time travelers in tow, and a strange woman with a stick up her ass, things got increasingly chaotic. ‘Fucking hell,’ he thought wildly, wiping blood and viscera from his eyes. He grabbed the sword.
Just in time to attempt to ward off the strange clone-women, only they didn’t back off from his very sharp, and mildly cursed weapon, instead quickly surrounding the group in some sort of strange mesh of bodies and then -
He ended up here. Staring up at the sky, through one of the Karen’s armpits.
And he was just - he was going to lay here for a while. Even though he was pressed up against way too many breasts for his liking, and he was pretty sure that he had been impaled on the sword during the fall.
It was fine. It was all fine. He just needed a breather.
Easy mission, his ass.
Through his little window, a figure came into view, looming with long, monstrous features and - oh wait, it was that fucking girl. He watched her lug what must have been masks of some sort, across the ground, for a few minutes before he gathered the strength to push the bodies off of him and push to his knees.
He was absolutely covered in blood (the blood that was his own, shimmered gold when the light caught it right) and guts, and - yep, that was a sword sticking out of his abdomen. He let out a long-suffering sigh. What was it the youth said, nowadays?
Oh yeah. Fuck his life.
Vessyr stared blankly up at the sky, where he could see the swirling, molten red and dark grey ash clouds erupting from the still ejactulating volcano, through the armpit of one of the many clones that had served as their lifeboat.
Never, in his millenia, had he experienced anything like what had just happened. He had fought in the Great War with the Elves, and the Great War of Elves (two very different things); he had killed many creatures with his bare hands, creatures he didn’t even have names for; he had kissed a goat. But the sheer absurdity, the complete pandemonium… and the fucking sword.
As soon as he finished this godsforsaken job and hitched a ride from the nearest mode of transportation, he was finding whichever superior had assigned him this case and he was gutting them from crotch to tits.
“Eeys. Eeys,” he mumbled in his mother tongue. “Eeys o’ ass.”
It had been going so pleasantly. He and the drunkard had found a window to watch the volcano, without anyone else around, and had just been about to tell him that he did, in fact, know a bit about magic and perhaps he could help him out? when they were interrupted by the entrance of two more passengers. One of them had a skull painted on his face, not unlike Zazzy himself and the other was a young woman trying to sell him a sword. (A sword Vess recognized but that was neither here nor there.)
And that’s when things went to shit.
"Izzit just me or does it look like we're getting a bit too close to all this?"
“Ye-” Vess started to respond before the ship rocked hard, and what looked like another ship crashed through the ceiling impaling the second skull-man, who went berserk. Zazzy threw himself over Vess in an attempt to protect him, which he found highly ironic.
He very much did not want to grab that sword, thank you. But as the captain arrived, with a young girl, two time travelers in tow, and a strange woman with a stick up her ass, things got increasingly chaotic. ‘Fucking hell,’ he thought wildly, wiping blood and viscera from his eyes. He grabbed the sword.
Just in time to attempt to ward off the strange clone-women, only they didn’t back off from his very sharp, and mildly cursed weapon, instead quickly surrounding the group in some sort of strange mesh of bodies and then -
He ended up here. Staring up at the sky, through one of the Karen’s armpits.
And he was just - he was going to lay here for a while. Even though he was pressed up against way too many breasts for his liking, and he was pretty sure that he had been impaled on the sword during the fall.
It was fine. It was all fine. He just needed a breather.
Easy mission, his ass.
Through his little window, a figure came into view, looming with long, monstrous features and - oh wait, it was that fucking girl. He watched her lug what must have been masks of some sort, across the ground, for a few minutes before he gathered the strength to push the bodies off of him and push to his knees.
He was absolutely covered in blood (the blood that was his own, shimmered gold when the light caught it right) and guts, and - yep, that was a sword sticking out of his abdomen. He let out a long-suffering sigh. What was it the youth said, nowadays?
Oh yeah. Fuck his life.
Last edited:
Lowkey Gemini
*aggressively doesn't know*
MUD
post for a 1x1.
written april 2020. feat. siu, a very old vampire shaman.
written april 2020. feat. siu, a very old vampire shaman.
Sometimes, his visions didn’t make any sense.
Sometimes? Scratch that, pretty much all the time. So when Siu received a fuzzy vision of muddy footprints, running water, a dirtied tub, he didn’t question it.
Actually no, he did question it. Because what the fuck?
He spent most of the evening, after waking up, pondering it. He couldn't figure it out. Usually, his ancestors gave him important tips towards the future, and this? This didn’t feel important. At least, he didn’t think so. It was definitely strange, that was for certain. He lived alone, in the middle of nowhere. The only one who would be taking a bath, in his bathtub, was himself. So what did it matter? He bathed all the time.
Siu hummed to himself, sipping his mug of blood. It mattered to someone, it seemed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been shown it. Sometimes his visions were clear, and sometimes they didn’t make sense until they made sense. At least at this point in his life, he was used to it.
Perhaps it was a warning not to go outside and get muddy. He snorted, casting a glance out the window into the rain. It certainly was going to be muddy out there, with how that storm was coming down.
It was just as he was settled down to (re)enjoy a nice book by the fire, when he felt it: the burning of the bone at his throat.
Someone just crossed his wards.
He straightened in alarm, head whipping towards the door, ears straining. Who the fuck would be out here at - he cast a glance towards the clock - 11 o’clock at night? In the middle of the woods? On his property?
It took him a moment to pinpoint them by sound - racing heartbeat, pounding footsteps, laborious breathing. Clearly mortal, which made it even stranger. It seemed like they were heading towards his cabin yet he hesitated to get up from his chair. Maybe they would just pass him by? Wishful thinking.
They fell, not too far away, and let out this growl. It was deepthroated and sounded almost... wolflike. But that was impossible. His wards screened for werewolves.
It was finally when the front doorknob jiggled - it wasn't locked, it was never locked, why would it be? - just a little, that he was finally getting up and moving.
He threw open the door, preparing to say something rude for sure, only for the words to die in his throat as a body falls against his own.
If he had been paying any attention, he would've realized the person on the other side was leaning against the door. As it was, he didn't, and as a result, received an armful of limp boy. Limp man? Whoever he was, he was tall.
It took a moment for him to comprehend what had just happened, and once it did, he was taking a lightning-fast step back, and then another, curling his lip in disgust. Instinctively his fangs slid out in defense.
"What the fuck?" he hissed, because that was the only question he could think of.
'Mud,' he realized belatedly. The mortal was absolutely covered in mud. He looked almost like a half-drowned puppy, crawled up on the riverbank. Half-dead.
Sometimes? Scratch that, pretty much all the time. So when Siu received a fuzzy vision of muddy footprints, running water, a dirtied tub, he didn’t question it.
Actually no, he did question it. Because what the fuck?
He spent most of the evening, after waking up, pondering it. He couldn't figure it out. Usually, his ancestors gave him important tips towards the future, and this? This didn’t feel important. At least, he didn’t think so. It was definitely strange, that was for certain. He lived alone, in the middle of nowhere. The only one who would be taking a bath, in his bathtub, was himself. So what did it matter? He bathed all the time.
Siu hummed to himself, sipping his mug of blood. It mattered to someone, it seemed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been shown it. Sometimes his visions were clear, and sometimes they didn’t make sense until they made sense. At least at this point in his life, he was used to it.
Perhaps it was a warning not to go outside and get muddy. He snorted, casting a glance out the window into the rain. It certainly was going to be muddy out there, with how that storm was coming down.
It was just as he was settled down to (re)enjoy a nice book by the fire, when he felt it: the burning of the bone at his throat.
Someone just crossed his wards.
He straightened in alarm, head whipping towards the door, ears straining. Who the fuck would be out here at - he cast a glance towards the clock - 11 o’clock at night? In the middle of the woods? On his property?
It took him a moment to pinpoint them by sound - racing heartbeat, pounding footsteps, laborious breathing. Clearly mortal, which made it even stranger. It seemed like they were heading towards his cabin yet he hesitated to get up from his chair. Maybe they would just pass him by? Wishful thinking.
They fell, not too far away, and let out this growl. It was deepthroated and sounded almost... wolflike. But that was impossible. His wards screened for werewolves.
It was finally when the front doorknob jiggled - it wasn't locked, it was never locked, why would it be? - just a little, that he was finally getting up and moving.
He threw open the door, preparing to say something rude for sure, only for the words to die in his throat as a body falls against his own.
If he had been paying any attention, he would've realized the person on the other side was leaning against the door. As it was, he didn't, and as a result, received an armful of limp boy. Limp man? Whoever he was, he was tall.
It took a moment for him to comprehend what had just happened, and once it did, he was taking a lightning-fast step back, and then another, curling his lip in disgust. Instinctively his fangs slid out in defense.
"What the fuck?" he hissed, because that was the only question he could think of.
'Mud,' he realized belatedly. The mortal was absolutely covered in mud. He looked almost like a half-drowned puppy, crawled up on the riverbank. Half-dead.
Last edited:
Lowkey Gemini
*aggressively doesn't know*
AURORA
post for a group roleplay.
written april 2020. feat. koen, a mildly crazy, lowkey criminal.
written april 2020. feat. koen, a mildly crazy, lowkey criminal.
Call him a conspiracy theorist, but if you asked Koen, he was convinced that the police were behind the disappearances. At the very least, they were trying to cover something up.
He didn't even have to spend more than an hour in Aurora, and it was clear to him that the cops were fucking useless. The first thing he did upon arriving in his hometown, was try and report what he knew to the police - which admittedly, wasn't much, but it was more than they did. According to them, Robbie hadn't been taken, he hadn't disappeared mysteriously. He had 'left town', of his own goddamn free will. Anyone with two brain cells would've known that was utterly wrong.
It didn't matter that was out of character for him, it didn't matter that his mother and his neighbor had attempted to report him missing, and it didn't matter that Koen had tried too. Robbie's mother, bless her heart, was halfway senile, so her account couldn't be trusted. Koen's criminal record made his report "unreliable". It didn't help the first officer he talked to was a kid he had stolen lunch money from once (read: many times) in high school. He didn't know what excuse they had not to take his neighbor's statement, but whatever the reasoning, it was all bullshit. Especially considering that Robbie wasn't the only disappearance to rock their small town, if the missing posters plastered everywhere were anything to go by. It was complete and utter bullshit.
He said as much, at the station, very loudly and aggressively. He would've stuck around for longer, put up more of a fight, but they threatened to throw him in holding for the night. A tempting option, if there wasn't a bed at the Red Door Inn that was calling his name. He left after that.
Immediately Koen had known that he wasn't going to sit around on his ass waiting for those dimwits to find Robbie; he'd do it on his own. Or, perhaps, not all on his own. It was as he was leaving the station that he spotted a flyer advertising some sort of meeting at the Recreation Center the next day. It wouldn't be horrible, if he had some help finding Robbie, and if it seemed stupid, he could always just leave.
Thursday night found Koen pulling up to the Aurora Reaction Center in his sweet new pick-up truck he may or may not have acquired through less than legal means. He technically arrived a little before five, however, Tiger had to use the bathroom. Plus he could use a smoke.
It was as he was waiting for Tiger to finish burying his shit behind a bush, snuffing out the butt of his cigarette underneath his heel, that he saw a girl enter the building before him. He should probably be headed in too. Hopefully it wasn't going to be dumb.
"What do you think, hmm?" he hummed, glancing down at his cat. Tiger only rubbed his face against Koen's knee, and started walking in the wrong direction. Koen sighed, bending down to scoop him up into his arms, forgoing the leash."Come on."
"S'cuse me. Gonna stand there all day?" Koen huffed, pushing around the girl still stood in the doorway of the assembly hall. He lifted Tiger higher in his arms, the big cat staring over his shoulder at her, while Koen glanced over the other occupants of the room. His lips hooked up into a grin.
"Well, I'll be damned. It's Ruby Rycroft." He strode towards her, setting down Tiger before he reached her chair, so he could pull her into a hug. "It's been a while. How've you been?"
He didn't even have to spend more than an hour in Aurora, and it was clear to him that the cops were fucking useless. The first thing he did upon arriving in his hometown, was try and report what he knew to the police - which admittedly, wasn't much, but it was more than they did. According to them, Robbie hadn't been taken, he hadn't disappeared mysteriously. He had 'left town', of his own goddamn free will. Anyone with two brain cells would've known that was utterly wrong.
It didn't matter that was out of character for him, it didn't matter that his mother and his neighbor had attempted to report him missing, and it didn't matter that Koen had tried too. Robbie's mother, bless her heart, was halfway senile, so her account couldn't be trusted. Koen's criminal record made his report "unreliable". It didn't help the first officer he talked to was a kid he had stolen lunch money from once (read: many times) in high school. He didn't know what excuse they had not to take his neighbor's statement, but whatever the reasoning, it was all bullshit. Especially considering that Robbie wasn't the only disappearance to rock their small town, if the missing posters plastered everywhere were anything to go by. It was complete and utter bullshit.
He said as much, at the station, very loudly and aggressively. He would've stuck around for longer, put up more of a fight, but they threatened to throw him in holding for the night. A tempting option, if there wasn't a bed at the Red Door Inn that was calling his name. He left after that.
Immediately Koen had known that he wasn't going to sit around on his ass waiting for those dimwits to find Robbie; he'd do it on his own. Or, perhaps, not all on his own. It was as he was leaving the station that he spotted a flyer advertising some sort of meeting at the Recreation Center the next day. It wouldn't be horrible, if he had some help finding Robbie, and if it seemed stupid, he could always just leave.
Thursday night found Koen pulling up to the Aurora Reaction Center in his sweet new pick-up truck he may or may not have acquired through less than legal means. He technically arrived a little before five, however, Tiger had to use the bathroom. Plus he could use a smoke.
It was as he was waiting for Tiger to finish burying his shit behind a bush, snuffing out the butt of his cigarette underneath his heel, that he saw a girl enter the building before him. He should probably be headed in too. Hopefully it wasn't going to be dumb.
"What do you think, hmm?" he hummed, glancing down at his cat. Tiger only rubbed his face against Koen's knee, and started walking in the wrong direction. Koen sighed, bending down to scoop him up into his arms, forgoing the leash."Come on."
"S'cuse me. Gonna stand there all day?" Koen huffed, pushing around the girl still stood in the doorway of the assembly hall. He lifted Tiger higher in his arms, the big cat staring over his shoulder at her, while Koen glanced over the other occupants of the room. His lips hooked up into a grin.
"Well, I'll be damned. It's Ruby Rycroft." He strode towards her, setting down Tiger before he reached her chair, so he could pull her into a hug. "It's been a while. How've you been?"
