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Fantasy On the Wild Hunt for a New Long Term Partner[Literate|Detailed]

The Inquisitor

The Empress of the Pen
Let it be known, ye who enter here, blood shall flow and flesh shall burn. Only those favored by the Gods shall stand in their wake.
Hello there, my reader!

I am very interested in having a Dark Fantasy roleplay to go through. After watching Castlevania, reading the Demon Cycle series and The Witcher, I am in the mood for something that is darker and more gritty. With complex characters and many that are far from heroes, some that could even be called villains in their own right, but still characters. Characters that have a story that needs to be told. So I invite many of you to come and help me make my Dark Fantasies possible.

~About Me~
First and foremost...
BEHOLD MAH FACE!

I am SoundOfSilence, as you all may know already. I I love chocolate (though I suppose most people do) and I have a terrible sense of humor (don't try to get into a pun or meme battle with me), I am an avid redditor (you're not my buddy, pal) and one of my favorite things to do in the world is write and I am an aspiring novelist with an entire series in the works at the moment (and I hope that these RP ideas being tried out will give us both a great dash of inspiration ^_^).

~My RP Schedule~
I am a girl that is still in school, so therefore, I have a very very busy schedule, one that changes with my free time, as there will be times that I can post more often than not, and there will be times I will be lost in the waves of life and unable to reply at all, however, I plan to always be available to speak by all means necessary, as I never wish to lose contact with my partner for long. So, all in all, I can either reply every other day, or once a week, and I understand you taking all the time you need. It is okay, because I do the same.

~My Beliefs for OOC Chat~
As I said before, it is in my belief that any good partner speak with one another very often, as I believe the best partners you will ever have will first be your friends and then be your partners. I am quite flexible in OOC chat due to the fact that this is not a job, and I do not like to treat it as one. I will make many jokes there and have much fun sending memes and jokes and puns to my partner. I enjoy knowing my partner well enough to have a great conversation and play around with them on the daily.

~My Writing Style~
I am a detailed writer. I enjoy making paragraphs upon paragraphs of work. I like to describe the scene in great detail, showing the flecks of gold in his eyes or the way her hair sweeps about her frail body. Such description is why I do not mind a slow pace in roleplay. All I care about is weaving together a beautiful story that can be fun and good for everyone involved in it. That being said, I believe I should speak on which I like to write, as you already know I enjoy the high fantasy genre and Epic and such, but I believe I should add more into this, as I think those who wish to write with me wish to know more.

~My Stories~
My stories tend to lean more towards the serious and grand with the addition of a bit of comedy laced in a few parts and deep character interaction along with stories of epic of proportions. Now, with deep character interactions I do know there may come the addition of romance, which I do know is a popular genre. Contrary to the popular belief of most, I actually do not mind romance and can enjoy it and even enjoy couples with my partner when I find the characters to have enough chemistry. In the past, I admit I tend to not like the experience thatmost people want out of romance, but if you wish to have one in the RP, simply tell me and I will do my best to accommodate :)

I will put out now that I do not do fandom roleplays and prefer to always have a roleplay set in a land of our own making.

That being said, on to happier subjects!

~Characters~
First thing's first! I double, I love to double and I will double until the end of time. I always enjoy playing one female as my main, at least. And then I always like having one man as I believe both of them will add their own flairs to the story and I love playing as both of them, and I love taking creative liberties and making them both their own person. As So no worries, I am not the type to abhor from playing the opposite gender, but I find it hard to play a woman in this vast sea of "looking for male for romance" (which absolutely no shade to you guys, keep on keeping on) so it is easier to double so that anyone wanting that romance with that male can be happy and I can have my female main who does her own things.

My characters can range, as it depends on what story I am trying to tell and what role it is that my character has taken up. If a story needs a king, it will have a king, and if that king need be evil, he will be evil. If he need be sympathetic and complicated, he shall be. If he need have a Queen, she will be there as well. What I am saying is, I like my characters to serve a purpose in the story and always have things to add. I like my people to have realistic personalities and flaws and problems that they need to get through. It is a love of mine to have internal conflict and much deep and heavy drama between characters. Though, yes, I do love that external conflict with battles and shiny things as well.

~An Example~
Now that we are reaching the end of the about me, let me show you how I write, so without further ado, here is a sample or two (heh, that rhymed, heh)

The ground was soft with the blood that had spilled from the body of the prisoner. There was silence. A hush that rang loudly in the ears of all that lined the streets. Even the World itself had chosen to quiet her voice when the head rolled over her, had dirtied her with the blood that had once resided within it. A haunting silence as the head came to a stop, its emerald gaze forever open and staring back at the crowd that had gathered. The face had gone slack, mouth agape and swollen tongue poking from between the cracked lips. His pale skin had been made pale, and continued to pale still as the rest of his blood spilled out and unto the soft floor.

Despite his lifeless look, despite his pale skin and limpness, it still seemed that he was speaking into that silence. Breaking it with the sound of his very look. The emerald pools staring blankly, yet an emotion seemed to radiate from deep within them. A look of scorn that even death was unable to take away. A look of fear that death -or rather the knowledge that he was going to die- was there with it. A scream seemed to come from that look. One of anguish, hatred. One that hurt the ears of everyone gathered around. One that dared for the silence to be broken with words, the words of anyone whom stood about him now and looked upon him as he sank into the very world that he had sprung from.

The world had been so still at that moment, the silence so deafening that when his pale cheek left the soil, when he had been so harshly seized by the hair and his head lifted high for all to see, it had taken everyone that had gathered by surprise, Saela included. She was no stranger to death. Yet as Rondulin picked up the head of their prisoner, bringing it up and holding it high above his own head, she could not help but feel a jarring yank from her previous state of concentration to this new scene that now was so wantonly displayed before everyone. Every citizen. Every child that looked upon it with their curious eyes that had yet to see such a sight.

Blood dripped from the open neck and along his arm, trailing down and over his shoulder, curving into the gentle dip of his neck. The look of anguish seemed to be magnified by the way he was seizing the man’s hair, the daring look shining bright over the crowd.

And this time the dare was met.

“And thus the guilty fell before the Gods, and their filthy lives stained time no more!” Rondulin cried out, hand shaking but never losing the grip on the dark tresses that he had threaded them through. A cry that was expected, even uttered by tongues all across the crowd before the head had rolled Even so, it elicited a response from those that surrounded him. A cry of triumph. A cry that was soon joined by Rondulin himself as he shook the head once more, feeling the droplets of crimson touch his cheek, staining it the same color. But it would be asking far too much of him at this point to notice.

It was asking too much of everyone as the cheers erupted throughout the crowd, the shock of the execution wearing off and quickly being replaced by victory. And that feeling grew stronger and stronger still as he threw the head from his grip with such ferocity that it rebounded the moment it hit the ground. The cry overcame the dare that had once hung in the air, the silence was long forgotten.

The King’s Spears stood still and silent as the crowd was lost in their victory. Lost in their cheers with the man that now lead them. For many, it was the discipline that kept them from joining in. Most. It was a fact that Saela was rarely nestled in with the majority for most things.

While her golden gaze was trained in the same spot, locked on their Lord, their leader in his victory. But she did not feel the same need as the rest to let out that cry and join them in this celebration. A pity was holding her down, pulling her heart away from the euphoria that beckoned her to it. For his face was alight with victory now, standing with the head of his enemy at his boots, but it was the look of anguish that had taken him over that was pressed into her vision. The way those eyes had been clouded by grief and anger before even the thought of victory glimmer behind the brown pools.

How he had pressed his head to her lap and shook with grief after his mother had lost her life, had given her all to defend what was rightfully theirs against the blasphemous claws that so greedily reached for it. How he had wrapped his arm about her back and she felt the wet against her stomach as he let himself unravel before her. And then her own grief mixed with his in those moments, grief for the loss of the Lady Linjuna, yes, but also for the grief of her lord that she was helpless to lift.

That, that was what she saw as she looked upon him, blood smeared over his arm and face surrounded by people that cheered on his triumph.

His fist came up once again, high in the air and pressed against the burnt red sky. It was that simple motion that caused a hush to fall over them all and sweep them back into the silence that had once consumed them.

“Let us not celebrate too wantonly the death of this man” Rondulin spoke again. “It is not he who deserves so much of our hatred. That is not to say he was unworthy of death. It is just to say that he is nothing more than a dog to the snakes that reside in the mainlands. A feral dog is put down, after all. And what dog could be seen as more feral than one that frolics with snakes?”

A cry from the crowd greeted his words. The shouts of agreement shook the air about them.

“But it is not the dog that should be worried about. They can bite, but it will only wound and startle. Those as strong as we are hardly hurt by the weak attacks of them. All he knows how to do is follow orders. And when those orders stop coming to his ears, see where he ends up?”

His hand gestured down, fingers pointed at the head that now lied in a pool of blood, the pale cheek stained brown and red.

“A dog with no orders can only lay down and die, because he never learned how to play the man and make his own orders. Nay. It is the snake that we shall be wary of. The beasts that hide behind the dog, that slip about your feet unnoticed until they strike. The cowards that cannot face a man in battle, only bite his ankle and then let their poison take him rather than their spears. At the very least, the dog is loyal. The dog may follow the wrong path, but they are not evil. No, it is the snake that the evil lies in.

“I am but a man, not a snake nor a dog. So are we all. Neither snakes nor dogs. Answering to none. Acting on behalf of none. At the same time, we act with strength! With honor! What is a man with no honor? He is a snake! What is a man with no strength? He is a dog! What is he who has both? Not only is he a man, but as well as the man of the highest merit. He is who other men look up to, who they aspire to be. They are the legends, the heroes.”

He took a step back, his chest heaving as he took in breaths he was unaware that his body was in need of. His hand came to press against his own chest, lying over his heart.

“That, that is who we aspire to be. And to be that, we must destroy the evil that taints this land. Strike off the head of the snake that so wantonly slithers in the grass. I ask only to destroy every single piece of filth that stains this very Earth! To cleanse the world of their tyranny and bring back peace to this land and to every land that has suffered because of them! They are snakes, they hurt more than us! They bite the ankles of all that they can reach and bring them down into grass with them. But no more! No more I say, no more! Tonight, tonight we defy the snake. We meet their fangs with our spears!” he took a step back his eyes alight with a fire that very few men are able to achieve. His chest heaved as his forehead shone with sweat and the droplets of blood smeared along his jaw, dropping to the curve of his neck.

There was no silence when his words stopped this time. Instead there was a roar. A roar so powerful that even those in the King’s spears pulled back, wincing slightly at the noise that drowned out all else and seemed to make the air about the shiver with the power that came from that group as they gathered about their leader, his chest heaving, his enemy’s head fallen and at his feet.

Rondulin took a step forwards one more, his eyes grazing over all that stood before him, not wavering and waiting for the next words that would fall from his mouth.

“The spears and I shall lead this battle against the snakes. And once they are no more, rest assured that we shall never be treated with such dishonor again. I shall go by myself if there is no one to join me, however-,” his dark gaze came over the spears that stood behind him. It went over all of them first, then it landed on Saela, holding her golden gaze for only a moment before he turned back to the crowd. “I do not believe that there are many who are so cowardly to deny me.”

He took another step back before he let out his final words to the crowd.

“Soon we shall leave, but watch for when we return, for the sun will be upon us, and the Gods will be with us when we come back to this land.” And then he left. The cheering of the crowd at his back the entire walk back to his own quarters. As loud as those cheers were, it felt they were nothing compared to those that had come for his mother. She had a way with words, a way that he could not emulate, if not because he was unable to copy her, it was simply because the type of person that she was could not be emulated. It was the type that only graced the land every thousand years.

It seemed that someone like her should have been immortal, should have been able to survive these battles of man against all odds. Yet, she was gone now. Had passed and fell to the soft land. Had bled into the dirt and made the land beneath her richer with the blood that coursed through her very veins. She had bled for the land and the land had taken that blood. In the end it had taken her, had enveloped her into its embrace after the fire had warmed her soul.

He stopped in his steps, mouth pulling back into a tight frown as he felt his lips tremble once more, tears prick at the edges of his eyes. He pressed his lips together as he willed his breathing to still and allowed his eyes to fall closed.

You need not be strong here, brother,” he could hear the whispers of Huin even now. Feel his heavy hand upon his shoulder. “We are family. You are not supposed to be strong in front of us.” Yet he could not find it in himself to allow his younger brother to see that weakness within him when he was supposed to be the pinnacle for this family to follow now. He was supposed to be the strength that lifted them all up, kept them all afloat.

His hand curled into a fist, the knuckles turning white as he clenched his hand so tightly. It was only a second later and the nearest bust had been knocked to the ground, shattering against the stone. His breathing had grown heavy yet again. It seemed that he was going to have to get used to the feeling, being that it seemed to be his normal state now.

“You seem troubled, m’lord.” a soft voice said behind him. He turned slowly, already knowing who it was that was behind him.

Saela’s golden gaze touched his own dark one the moment he turned his head. He was unable to turn his lips into a smile. Not in front of her. He had known her too long to do that.

“I don’t understand why you always feel the need to be so formal, Saela.” he said quietly.

Saela’s shoulders gently rose in a small shrug before she took a step forward, her hands extended out in a gesture of peace and goodwill. A gesture that he accepted and returned readily. His hands met hers, his so large against her that they encompassed the entirety of her hand, feeling the shape of them against his palm.

“Saela,” he breathed. His head fell forward, forehead falling against the top of hers. He was unable to look at her. Unable to open his eyes, despite knowing that all he would face would be the golden orbs filled with warmth. For some reason, he did not wish to look at that. Because everytime, he saw his own emotion reflected in her pools, as though she knew his deepest secret. As if those two drops of gold were able to see deep within him and take what was his as their own. And he could always be reminded just how weak he was when he saw that.

“Rondulin…” She said softly.

A breathy laugh escaped his lips. The air stirred the hair that fell over her brow.

“Why must the situation always escalate before you call me by my name. How long have we known one another?” he said.

“No one else is allowed to call you by your name in private.” she responded. That was always her response.

“You’re different.” he said. He could already see the way her eyes peeked from beneath her lashes to look up at his face.

“No I’m not.”

He did not argue, just squeezed her hands, feeling them press further into his hands. He could feel the callouses that lined her finger tips. Despite them, they still felt soft. Warm. Welcoming and kind. It made him squeeze harder.

Saela did not complain. Did not show discomfort even when she felt the bones in her hand shift from his strength. If anything, she pressed her hands back unto his with the same affection.

“I suppose I am your dog though, right?” He started back at her words, eyes opening enough so he could see her face. See the amusement that graced her features, both as her own words and at the look of shock that had washed over him.

“What?” he said. “No, no why would you think such a thing?”

She smiled, her head tilting to one side and her hair spilling over her shoulder.

“Is that another way I am supposed to be different?”

His eyes searched her face, taking in every dip and a curve of her features. Taking in the soft look that always seemed to be found within her gentle expression. She always seemed to have that warmth in her eyes, never letting it dip into the hard and cold look that the warrior was heir to.

“Yes.” he said quietly. Then his hands left hers in one motion.

“I would not trust a dog to join me in battle,” he said. “Dogs would only follow. But you, you will be by my side. Not through order, you would follow no matter what.”

She looked up at him, head tilted back so she could see his face without her lashes impairing her view of him.

“Always.”

His head fell forwards again, feeling the tickle of her hair against his skin.

“And you will be there when the snakes are strangled from this Earth,” he whispered, so low that even he could barely hear himself. “You understand that dying will be against the orders of your lord?”

Suddenly she let out a sharp laugh, her shoulders shaking with mirth as she pulled away from him, bringing her hand to press against her lips. His brows furrowed in questioning, watching her form as the golden eyes opened once again, sparkling with her amusement.

“Now you are my lord first, and not my friend? I believe you should make up your mind.”

His face broke into a smile once again as he reached out, gripping her shoulder and yanking her into an embrace. His chest vibrated against her in a silent joy as he pressed his chin to the top of her head.

“You are always my friend first. And because of that, I am afraid I must be your lord many times to ensure that I am not friends with a corpse. That is not normal, Saela.”

Her head shifted beneath his chin, causing him to move so that she could look up at him as she wanted to.

“If that is how you believe it must be…” she said.

“It is. Now, we should prepare for our advance, shouldn’t we?”

“Aye, m’lord.” she said. The mirth left her face with those words.

“Aye. Rest. You will not be getting a lot of that after this.” he said. And then he stepped away from her, letting his eyes grace over her features one last time before he turned away. It was set. The Snakes would fall, even if it meant his death.

The metallic scent of blood imbued the air. With it was the musk of a man’s sweat and the repulsive waste of those same men. It was lucky that the underground often remained cold as the snow of the north, the chill was likely the only thing that could keep the smell from being made worse. Even so, the chill seemed to be made trivial by the simple fact that the screams of the the many kept the place from ever being made bearable.

The air trembled with want. Nails clawed at the walls, pulling them apart as their fingers burst open and bloodied, continuing to destroy themselves no matter how futile it proved to be. Each cry that fell from the sinful tongues were met with deaf ears. Eyes that glittered with pain, begging for mercy and demanding it be given, for nothing they had done had been deserving of the torment that the blade brought when it dug into their flesh. Undeserving of the whip that split open their backs and the devices that crushed their bones.

Brennus of Renum stood tall beneath the dark ceiling. His fingers were stained crimson, in turn, the calloused appendages were bent about the hilt of a knife that seemed just as bloodied, even though it was the dulled blade that was shoved so unceremoniously into the skin. Small droplets of blood clung to his pale exposed collarbone and his beard covered cheeks.

A soft whimpering came from the man below him. Blood fell from cheeks that had been cut and lips that had been busted long ago. Tear stains were prominent upon his temples, though one of his eyes was a disgusting shade of purple and swollen so much that it could not be opened. The one that could see the dim light of the dungeon glittered with fresh and new tears, looking to the man that had brought him his injuries to cease.

Such was only the wandering hopes of a man that was already in his grave.

His lips parted in silent questioning. Or perhaps a silent answer to questions that forever hanged in the air. His body tensed, sore muscles crying out from the simple movements of him shifting about on the bed. His swollen tongue pushed out and licked the dried blood from the corners of his mouth.

Brennus leaned back, his lips thinned in annoyance as his eyes grazed over the man. A man that always seemed to be on the brink. He sat the knife on the table nearby before he reached forward, fingers threading through the sweaty dark curls in a deceptively gentle manner. They left a stain upon his brow as they brushed his curls away. His eye fell closed as a gentle breath escaped his nose, allowing the unfamiliarly gentle gesture sooth his body.

In an instant, that bit of mercy was gone and his hair was yanked taught in a strong grip. Nails curled deep into his scalp as his eyes flew open once more and he let put a sharp yelp of pain. Fingers pressed into his injured cheeks, the palm cupping his chin as the side of it pressed harshly into his throat.

“Shall we hear the truth now?” Brennus asked gently, his body bent of the other man’s.

It almost seemed like a tender moment between the two. One that should not have been looked on by any other eyes, yet there she was, disturbing the air as much is it disturbed her. Freyna was attempting to keep herself stiffly upright, the bodice helping to keep her back straight as she fought the urge to turn from the scene and lay her hand upon a wall to catch her breath.

“Don’t tell me you’re losing yourself so easily.” the voice was low, barely enough to touch her ears despite the way it fluttered against her skin. It caused her eyes to turn in a sharp glare towards him.

She pressed her bosom forward as she straightened her back to the point of near pain. She would be damned to be forced out of the room for something so petty as being unable to keep herself afloat due to a bit of blood being spilled on the stone below. He was a man like any other. And all men bled. There need not be such a dismantle from her own stability because of it.

The damp underground may as well have been the fire that burned in a room just overhead.His whimpers caused her stomach to churn and his look of desperation as he searched his mind for the answer that would satisfy the surrounding ears. His lips moved again, stretching and contracting about his teeth. His eye dripped closed once more before his chin quivered.

“Lady… Lady Frances.” He whispered through his broken teeth.

Freyna pressed her lips together as the words were whispered, a breath was unable to escape her as she took a step forward as if he were going to speak for them once more. She felt movement at her side as her brother brought his hand up, spinning it in the air. Brennus tilted his head, his blonde hair tickling his temples before he turned back to the musician that laid upon the table.

His grip tightened further.

“And?” He questioned. The musician pressed his lips together, even as tightly as they pressed to one another, Freyna could still see them tremble. He turned his eyes once more before he slowly pulled his head into as much of a nod as he could manage.

“Her brother… Larine… I played for him as well.”

His voice trembled with each word. The hand at her side continued to spin.

“And?” It was more forceful this time as Brennus leaned over the musician even further, his groin flush against the table as he looked to be leaning in for a peck upon the lips rather than a question.

“Gerain!” He gasped out as the fingers clenched down harder. It was then that the hand stopped and lowered. Brennus looked up, his dark eyes touching upon them for only a moment before he allowed his grip to loosen and then gently brushed a knuckle across the cheek of the musician.

“There. Could have avoided a lot of trouble had you just said so before, hm?” he murmured before he pulled away entirely from the weeping man.

Freyna felt her body begin to fall apart from itself. She took a step back and then another before she felt a hand touch her back and keep her from going any further. She pressed her eyes closed once more as she felt the hand move to her arm and grip it tightly.

“Careful, Freyna. Don’t lose yourself so quickly.” He gently bent her arm on her behalf so he could slip his through hers and keep her firmly upright.

“You’ve done enough, Brennus.” Bel said then. He turned his body slightly, readying himself to leave the small layer of hell that they had managed to put into their ground. “I should say that was sufficient enough proof?”

Freyna’s eyes finally turned to the three other men that had joined them. Each seemed less ill than she felt. It made her stand straighter once more, not caring that they expected such from a mere woman in the face of a bit of blood. Even if she knew they did not give a damn about her little disposition. Their eyes were on the man that laid on the table, and those eyes then turned to her brother, grimaces so melancholic that they nearly became smiles sat upon their lips.

“It seems there is nothing to refute, Lord Bel.” Lord Pernil murmured as he shook his head. He was a stout man. A thick layer of pudge surrounded his middle and the rest of him seemed smaller in comparison. “Though I doubt many were unaware of the nightly activities of Lady Frances. Though, her brothers… we should have known he would be one to engage in such acts.”

“He is an Ulahd. It is to be expected.” Lord Aron said. He pressed a hand to his bosom before drawing a symbol of the Gods into the air before him. “May the Gods have mercy for allowing them to stay within this place… May they have mercy on House Faernad, for they could not have known about such heresy.”

Bel raised a hand to his own bosom and nodded in grim agreement. “Aye. I don’t know what would have a happened had we suffered them any longer.”

“What shall be done about them now, is the true question.” Freyna spoke. She appraised the looks upon all the men. They likely did not expect to hear her speak, after watching her grow paler than she already had been. Though her skin could never wish to find a darker shade than white, her cheeks at least proved to be made pink once more rather than the lifeless hue they had taken on before. Because now she was faced with an environment of familiarity.

“Your sister speaks the truth, Lord Bel.” Lord Aron said solemnly. “Their practices are unholy. And they even managed to take the musician into their arms. One cannot act too harshly.”

“Aye.” Lord Pernil agreed. “Not with them. Never too harshly. Though, I fear how how they shall react to those that know the truth… Their hearts have withered to naught by now, how could we hope for them to not lay something upon us that would leave us in no better state than the blubbering idiot over there?” his hand game in a harsh gesture to the musician that was sobbing once more, letting out incoherent words as he attempted to curl in upon himself as much as much as his bonds would allow.

Freyna pressed her lips together once more and kept her gaze away from the musician, feeling her Bel’s hold upon her tighten as though he feared that she would collapse if she lacked means of support. But she did not grow faint again. She refused to, as there was too much to speak of now.

“Let us return up the stairs.” Bel said as he began to walk towards the stairs and Freyna was happy to begin to follow him. “The words grow too dark and I fear if there is no warm light to melt it away, we shall not ever be able to rid ourselves of the evil among us.”

“And they shall grow darker, still, my young Lord.” Pernil shook his head and took to joining the others in their forward march. “I envy you, young Lord. For you are too fresh to have yet seen the true evils of man so that you are paled only from the small presence of it.”

A soft chuckle escaped Bel’s lips before he shook his head and turned his eye so that he could see Pernil from the corner of it. “I suppose we should count ourselves lucky then, shouldn’t we, Freyna?”

Freyna tightened her hold upon him, tiltling her head so that she could feel her hair tickle the crook of her neck as she forced her lips into a smile. It was not quite as hard as she had first thought it to be. Perhaps because she did find humor in the man’s words rather than being offended at his dismissal of her own understanding of the darkness in others. “I should think it better to already now such darkness.” She said lowly. “I should think if you are to make an enemy out of such a thing, that the only way to fight it is to know them so well that they could never hope to surprise you.”

“I should think you right, My Lady.” Lord Lareth spoke for the first time, his deep and graveled voice startling her, for it was never expected. He always proved to be so silent that one almost forget his presence. Almost. For his simple stare could never be forgotten. It was as blue as the seas, and as piercing as the holy man that demanded sins to be confessed. He brought his hand up and gently pushed golden strands from his brow.

“But I believe such things can be saved to be spoken of later.” He sighed out. “It shall not take long before they know of our revelations. It is our hopes that their dark vision has yet to see of it.”

“Worry not, my good man.” Bel smiled. “Before they can even think of going against the wishes of our Gods any farther, they shall know justice.”

And so it was said, and so it shall be.

Freyna held her head higher as they came to the stairs, taking their first steps from the underground and into the fresh air of the higher lands. The cool air against her bosom would cease and none would cause her to pale once the smell of blood left her, and the feelings that the smell brought would leave her mind. It was not time for such thoughts any longer, it was time to properly deal with the problem that had chosen so aptly to present itself to them. And any tear in their tapestry was in need of her most utmost attention in order to be fixed.

I do hope that you like it, and I promise my writing with you will be even better, as everyday I learn and improve.

~What I Am Looking For~

Now everyone has rules they must share before getting on to the main event, as you all may wish to know what it is that I expect out of our exchange, dear reader. As we all wish to have fun, and neither of us will if we do not mesh, so allow me to show you.

1. Make engaging characters. This is the most important. Ones that act and are not just acted upon. Ones that do things and matter more to the plot than just what title they bear and what family they come from. Overall, just make your characters interesting and someone that would make for a great story that readers would like to follow.

2. Add to the story, as I enjoy brainstorming and I would like my partner to have their own ideas, even if it is something that seems miniscule that can be expanded upon. Let us be creative together and make this Epic.

3. Don't dominate me, please! I would... rather not be a passive player being dragged around and only doing what my partner wants, so let us have a good balance.

4. Be detailed, not necessarily always having to match me, but I like those descriptions.

5. I would like someone that plays multiple characters and genders, as I like a diverse and decently sized cast.

6. Talk to me OOC, as I said, I want a friend and partner :)

7. Love me and tell me I am pretty

8. Have decent grammar, I suppose, though I don't think this has to be mentioned, in all honesty, as most people do.

9. Just quick add, know that I am ghost friendly and if you do not hear a response from me in about 10 days, I have probably ghosted. I think this is best for us non-confrontational people. I will assume the same with you

10. Have fun :)

Now, on to what everyone is waiting for:
~Plots~

(Let it be known that if you do not like any of these, feel free to speak to me about a brainstorm for something we would both like ^_^. Also, note that most can be either Fantasy or not fantasy, though I have a leaning towards fantasy.)

First and foremost... this one is different than the rest...

Alright... so I put some thought into it and this is a plot I would love to do with someone a lot. But this plot is very very special. In that, this is something that is apart of a book series that I have in the works and while this part of it is truly just backstory at the moment, I would love someone to RP it out with. Without further ado:

The War of the Jungle
WIthin the jungle, there is a kingdom that has reigned since ancient times. Though it has not crossed over the borders of the jungle, it has come to be known as one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world that it is in. With a large military and well-made villages, technology that is ever advancing and magic that has been practiced to perfection, it is a force to be reckoned with a royal family that would never stand down from a challenge. However, the kingdom is corrupted, those low in the system have grown tired of being allowed to be stepped on and looked over. The older sister of the reigning king has elected to start a rebellion and fight against him. The people see it as a call for justice, where there needs will be met, but it is wreaking havoc across the land. None are safe while this war goes on and the jungle may be shaken to its very core. Already people have come to fight one another. Brother against brother, father against son and daughter. Friendships crumbled and very nature of the jungle was changed.

~~~
Normal Plots!​


The Red Sands of Gresal


It was not long ago that man had learned what it meant to live as one. To know what it meant to rise in unity rather than to tremble alone as their own island. To know how to build one nation rather than sit separated in tribes. To live among a city, all banded together beneath a ruler, whether it be for better or for worse. Before the turn of man, from the time of the ancient to the time of the classic, there was war and bloodshed, as all felt the trembles of war against their flesh, for it was simply in the blood of man to feel that greed run through them. Pride had come to settle deep into their bosoms. A swelling want to know that beneath their heels a city had crumbled and their empire had expanded. Such was why Gresal had rose so high and stayed at the top, driving their forces against even the greatest of enemies and finding their victory wherever they planted their foot. Their empire unstoppable and their tactics unbeatable, they seem to stand to dominate all of the known world. Yet withing they find less conflict and hatred, brother going against brother and man raging war against his wife, incest and patricide. Greed and deceit causes them to tremble, their mighty pillars to quake. And an enemy walks with feather light steps about their doorstep, unseen and unknown, but carrying power with just as much pain etched in their swords and spears. All those too weak to fight can only look on as the waves clash in red and bronze, knowing that all shall feel the shudder of the Earth, no matter who it is that is the victor.



Blood Brings No Honor

A Kingdom resides upon the land, one that is old and powerful, standing tall against the years, the sands of time unable to chip away at the grip that had been taken over the people and as the Kings stood high with their power. Tyrants like no other. The people suffered beneath them, even as much of the kingdom began to thrive with the coin that dropped into their pockets. Yet no man is able to rule alone, nor can they stand forever, as many stand there in the background, waiting for their chance to have their grips at power, whether it be the brother of the King or the son, whether it be the cousin or the vexed soldier that stood at arms. There would be blood no matter who it was that took the front, no matter who wished to take the throne. On this day or the next, blood would flow and the pain would bloom. But none was prepared for the terror that struck through them as they walls of the city trembled and the family let out their cries of despair and pain, as even if power were to move, the pain for the Kingdom would grow and relations would come to be strained to the point of breaking. It mattered not who won, no matter what, all are punished.

Before it All Crumbles

The age of magic stands on the edge of the century, not yet tipping into the unknown yet trembling on the edge of extinction. With the rise of the new king, magic has become outlawed and the Kingdom grows dark and tired in his wake. As his power grows and his hand lores the sun, casting the land into darkness as his wicked grin splits his sneer, the creatures begin to suffer. Powers wane as he exterminates all that were born with the mark of magic, and with that, those creatures whose entire being was built upon it become lesser known and their days grow grim. And with every day he grows closer to achieving his ultimate peak of reaching the godlike powers and loring over all. But beneath the ground, under the caves of the Lupini mountains, far over the lands there lies the old king within his tomb, said to be waiting to wake and walk again when the Kingdom fell into such despair that he must strike once again to bring the lands to the peace that it so desires. He is the only hope, however he is still trapped within the tomb, in need of others coming to wake him from his slumber. And even then, his own army must be built so they may strike down the evil that plagued the land. And it is only in their greatest hopes that they may do it.

The Fall of an Empire
There is a great Empire, one that appeared and began to rise high in world, conquering those around it and increasing its borders with every passing decade, each Emperor coming to rule over a larger Empire than the last. It was a nation that was to be feared, for they were ruthless, not afraid to spill blood, making the sands and dirt turn red with the blood of their enemies. There was a promise made by the last emperor. A promise that the sun would never set on their empire. However, there is unrest, not only within, but as well as around. Corruption pervaded the empire and those that opposed it seemed to grow in number by the day. It was a great empire. But all empires fall. It is all just a matter of time. And the time has come for the empire to face it's largest challenge to date. Internal intrigue has led to there being fragility in the legal system and the delicate dance of power is causing man to fall and die. On the horizon there is a new, promising enemy that refuses to be smiled and as unrest grows and festers, so does the support to see the toppling of the new empire. Blood no longer means anything. All men are looking out for themselves and only themselves. The most cunning rules and warm hearts have died. The end of an era is upon the horizon and soon all shall know what true bleak and blackness is when the sunsets on the empire and someone else comes to reign over them in it's stead.

The Flame that Never Dies

Based on 'The Witcher'

'What is a blade without blessing?'

'Nothing more than a piece of metal tossed from the forge.'

'And what is blade that has been blessed?'

'The light of justice in the bitter dark.'

History has shown the protector of man through every age. Since they first knew fire, there has been those that fought to keep the peace and let that fire be kept for warmth and never to burn. Yet at the same time, there has always been those that wish to know the darkness in all of its power. Some say they are needed to keep one another balanced, yet no matter what balance was reached they continued to fight for the other to be taken completely from the world. Those guardians formed a brotherhood, there they know one another, and the outside world knows them well, though perhaps not kindly. No matter how they are seen, no matter how they may feel, they took the oath to fight for the light. Yet the Society of Gresenra has proven to know how to hide their dark beneath a pillar of light. None can see their corruption and none can stand any that go against them. Though the brotherhood is forced to try, all stands in their path. No matter how their swords hack, another always comes to stand in their way. Whether the end will be bitter or sweet, none know. All they can do is hope, and even hope is managing to look grim.




~~~​
I may add more later friends, as I grow tired now, but if you are interested, PM me!

Ciao for now!
 
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The Inquisitor

The Empress of the Pen
New Plot

Upon the Seas
Pirates have always roamed the waters. Since the first boat was made, they have sailed and shaken the peace for the unknowing boats that floated by without fear. They rose in power over the years until they became the most feared beasts of the waters, even combatting that of sirens and monsters that roamed beneath the tides. Now there lies a treasure greater than any other, rings which could make even the weakest man a king. The hunt is on as a certain group has flocked to their maps in order to find those rings so their captain can become the pirate king.
 

The Inquisitor

The Empress of the Pen
~Booping this with mah boop stick~
Control the Fury, Norse based/ God of War based RP still welcomed
Would also just love anything to do with magic and witches in general rn​
 

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