Fantasy —- // Rogue, Assassin, Pirate | Adopt a Character! \\

[ChaoticNeutralRogue]

• HOWDY!
• Rhane dhaas Raeshe
• Plots
• Writing Sample

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  Howdy,
  
  I’m Rogue (they / them): your friendly neighborhood chaos goblin. I’m looking for a few writing partners who want to create some wonderful stories together, and if you’re looking at this thread, I imagine you are too.
  
  At the moment, I’m interested in writing a particular character: Rhane, a Half-Dark Elf / Half-Orc rogue. He’s a shadowmancer who spent most of his life in a cult of assassins, but once he escaped, turned his skills with a blade onto piracy on the open seas. A bit of an edgelord—I admittedly have a weakness for them—but I’ll include a writing sample to prove I can pull this guy off.
  
  Rhane’s character sheet will be provided in another tab. And I’ll throw in a few loose plot ideas. But first:
  
  ABOUT ME:
  
  • Multi-paragraph to novella / advanced writer who believes in quality over quantity.
  • Laid-back, no pressure partner.
  • Responds once a week, sometimes more.
  • Enjoys romance, open to any and all pairings. LGBTIA+ friendly and welcoming!
  • I have a preference for writing males as my main characters, but will play side characters of any gender.
  • No limits and prefers a partner okay with dark themes (within the boundaries of site rules). Please let me know your limits.
  • Appreciates communication. Open-door policy when it comes to questions and concerns; never be afraid to bring something up, or ask me to edit.
  • Since I am in my late-twenties, I am only comfortable with writing with others eighteen or older.
  
  If interested in writing with me, please send me a DM! And know I’m open to any plot ideas you might have, or even to building a new plot around a character you want to pair against Rhane.
  
  Thanks for reading.
  
  
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  “No light, no light in your bright blue eyes ; I never knew daylight could be so violent”​
  
  NAME:
  Rhane dhaas Raeshe
  
  
  (Raeshe being a city-state known as The City of Wolves: a den of pirates and thieves & dhaas meaning ‘of’ — usually used by knights to denote allegiance)​
  
  RACE:
  Half Drow / Half Orc
  
  GENDER:
  Male
  
  SEXUALITY:
  Pansexual
  
  AGE:
  Late-Twenties / Early-Thirties
  
  HEIGHT:
  6’4”
  
  BUILD:
  Athletic, Lean Muscle
  
  HAIR COLOR:
  Black
  
  EYE COLOR:
  Amber
  
  PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:
  
  Art by NelmDraws
  For a former assassin, Rhane, in his dress and appearance, has discarded subtlety for statement: when he walks into a room, when he’s present, he wants people to take notice.
  
  Tall, with lean muscle built from agility instead of brute force, he carries himself with boisterous pride. His light grey, almost silvery, skin is marred with scars and painted with tattoos: a map sprawled onto his flesh of his past.
  
  His face is diamond-shaped, with a defined jaw dusted with a trimmed, kept, short beard; his lips are often curled into a smirk, around two short tusks protruding from his bottom row of teeth. His raven black hair is smoothed back against his scalp, styled in an undercut.
  
  Hooded, bright amber eyes — or, eye; his left is missing, replaced with a gem, the variety of which depends on the day — often darken with a sharp discernment of his surroundings and those within them, from underneath prominent, arched brows.
  
  Tattoos:
  
  • Left arm has a snake twirling around his muscles, and a panther perched on his forearm; the snake is eating its own tail to form an oroborous, and the panther’s fangs are biting into the snake’s body.
  • Right forearm is tattooed with a compass, whose needle is stabbed through the top of a skull.
  • Back is inked with a crow in flight, its wings sprawling across his shoulders, and a dagger held within its talons.
  
  Prominent Scars:
  
  • Long, vertical scar running over his left eye and down his cheek; the eye is missing, replaced with a variety of gems, depending on the day.
  • Torso is littered with a variety of slashes and punctures: a sordid story of close calls and brushes with death.
  • A runic marking branded on his left hand that marked him as a Nameless; has been turned into a crescent moon.
  
  PERSONALITY:
  Clever as the devil and twice as pretty: Rhane has a silver tongue that’s kept sharpened and dripping with sarcastic venom. He fights verbally as vehemently as he does physically; he commands conversations, reading people with a discerning, ever-watching eye, and insight that sees right through their inward delusions and outward illusions.
  
  He plays games because his one desire in life is to win and thrive; an upbringing of survival has left him bitter and nihilistic, discarding any and all rules, and making everything fair game in the dance. He’s guarded, trusts very few, and wears his scars like armor.
  
  Yet behind that shell is a small spark begging to be lit among the shadows: a deeply loyal individual, who once has been won, can never be shaken, and will hold the whole world at the edge of a blade for those he considers his own, those who have found purchase in his heart.
  
  HISTORY:
  What memory of his early childhood that once existed faded into obscurity, disappearing in the reaches of his mind, after the years Rhane spent in service to the order — cult — of assassins known as The Nameless.
  
  Their goddess is one of death and reaping souls, their goal to fuel her with enough power, by sending her fresh kills, that she’ll be able to break free of her imprisonment, walk onto the mortal plane once more, and bring eternal nightfall to the waking world.
  
  Rhane’s name was taken from him. Along with his agency, his life. Sold into the hands of The Nameless at a young age, he was taught the ways of the order, of shadow magic, forcibly addicted to it, and from his teenage years onward, killed in service to the goddess.
  
  His freedom came when an assignment went wrong: the target fled, he was lost at sea, and washed ashore barely breathing. Stumbling into civilization, he used the opportunity to break free from his chains and start anew. He named himself Rhane, from an old tongue meaning ‘the ruler’, the sovereign of himself, and cut ties with The Nameless.
  
  For a handful of years he would use his skills as a freelance assassin, saving up coin. When he took out a privateer, he stole the ship and used his coin to hire a crew. He now sails the seas as a pirate and smuggler, his chosen name one spoken with disdain and fear.
  
  
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  The City of Wolves

  
  The Viscount of the city of Raeshe — known as the City of Wolves for its prominent thieves guilds, rampant cutthroats, and visiting pirates — is on his deathbed, but has yet to name his heir. His youngest son, Varren Fyre, has come home with his new order, The Knights of the Last Dawn, who believe in the destruction of magic and all those who practice it, or are touched by it, to stake his claim on his father’s title. His ascension to the throne would be marked by bloodshed, his rule iron-fisted and suffocating to those that live within the cities’ walls.
  
  Rhane has a vested interest in making sure the Knights fail to consolidate power in his city. Your character, for whatever reason, also wants to make sure Varren Fyre stays out of power. The two team up to rage war in Raeshe’s underground.
  
  The fate of the city rests in their hands; who will they place in power, or will they steal that power for themselves?
  

  The Ancient & Forgotten

  
  Legends of an ancient treasure, located on a magical, shifting island shrouded in mists, have existed for over a hundred years; many adventurers and explorers have tried and failed to find it, lost at sea, their names nothing more than footnotes in history books.
  
  Our characters are hired to succeed where the others failed.
  
  To be honest, Rhane has his doubts. But he has been paid upfront, and is a little curious himself. Your character — a part of his crew, another treasure hunter who even hired him, or any other ideas you might have — takes the journey with him.
  
  Turns out the legends were real, but incomplete: the island was lost, on purpose. Built as a prison to entrap a cosmic horror, the harbringer of an Old God, our characters just unleashed the end times by accidentally wakening this Eldritch being. And now they have to find a way to stop its master’s return.
  

  The Heir

  
  Your character was the heir to the throne, until a usurper darkened their kingdom’s footsteps. The war was bloody and your character’s family was losing it. As enemy forces marched outside their castle, a loyal retainer to your character struck a deal with a smuggler, who happens to be Rhane: get your character out of danger, out of the city, and he’d be rewarded by whatever your family had left in reserves outside the capitol.
  
  Only, there’s nothing left; whatever was owned by the royal family was destroyed by the usurper, burnt to the ground and the ashes salted.
  
  Stuck on a pirate ship and hounded by assassins, including a few from Rhane’s own past, the two strike a deal: help your character reclaim the throne, and Rhane will be able to retire on a beach with the amount of gold tossed his way.
  

  
  
  
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  When the fight first started, Skoll had every intention of withholding lethal blows; if he put down every drunken idiot who made the bad decision to start a fight with him, deserved or not, he would constantly be buying new boots, because blood stains were so hard to clean from the crevices. Besides, he wouldn't want the rumor to circulate that he was a tyrant; he was a benevolent leader of thieves with honor after all, as long as no one crossed the line of his patience and virtue.
  
  Such as destroying his property.
  
  As Morim snatched the dagger from his boot -- a gesture he spared no second thought, but it did bring a smile to his lips -- and Vincent sent another assailant flying into the wall with a telekinetic force born from a wave of his fingers, and Dirk made sure the man stayed down with a harsh slam of his foot against kneecaps, Skoll came to the conclusion he had to make an example out of the last.
  
  He was sure certain parties he associated with, if they possessed the ability to read his thoughts, would chide his blatant hypocrisy from his eagerness to stomp over the table, and then for what was about to befall, clearly none too shy about destroying his property himself, but it was about respect. And as he heard, saw, a finely decorated chair -- one stolen from a merchant who claimed the original Grey Fox had once owned it himself -- smashed to pieces by a brazen pirate, a scowl embedded itself within his features, one that would be replaced with a smirk as Morim beat the offender with his own sword.
  
  The last one standing would be left to his devices. In the chaos, the pirate managed to draw his saber and dagger, and rushed Skoll with intensity. A dance pursued; the aggressor attacked, and Skoll blocked, deflected, and dodged, moving more so with the gracefulness of a cat then the wolf he was named for. With each pushed aside slash and stab of air which had once been home to a limb, the pirate became more frustrated, and his anger only grew at the conceded smirk dancing across the Wolf's lips.
  
  Oblivious to the fact he had been led around the room like a pup, the pirate made one last charge, letting out a booming battle cry as he raised his sword and --
  
  Skoll simply stepped aside, held out his foot, and the man tripped over, the motion propelling him forward. The glass window of the pyramid shattered into plentiful pieces as the body flew through it. A scream could be heard, becoming less clear with each moment that passed, and then splat. Shocked gasps and more screams. A high pitched voice howled for a healer. A disgruntled one called for a cleaning crew.
  
  Skoll twirled his shortsword around in his grip, whistling as he walked back to his abandoned chair to sheath it in its scabbard, before wrapping the weapon belt around his waist, followed by his longsword's. The dagger offered back by Morim was first wiped clean on a nearby body, before it was also placed within its rightful place.
  
  "Well, apparently my smugglers can't even spot enchanted dice without help," he drawled, sparing a glance at the surviving crew littering his floor. He wondered how much shit he would be in with the captain once word spread, and made a mental note to send Dirk to make sure the sailor didn't try anything stupid. "Though the increased security of the ports hasn't been helping things. You wouldn't be looking for a job, would you?"
  
  He smirked, and with the precise speed he displayed during combat, stepped forth to embrace his long lost friend, strong arms wrapped around her, nose twitching at the familiar and welcome scent. "It's good to see you, and you look damn good for a dead girl."
  
  The moment wasn't allowed to fester, interrupted by a loud, angry dwarf, who marched out from behind the bar. Pulling at his beard, a spew of curses came before his accusations, "How am I supposed to run a business when you fuckin' riff-raff keep on sling' folks out windows, and breakin' my godsdamn tables?! This is not your soddin' playground, you motherfuckin', sky-humpin' -- "
  
  The sound of bodies being dragged could be heard underneath the verbal rampage. Though he could have effortlessly carried them, the silent giant seemed content to slide them, and their blood, across the ground, as he rounded them up by the door. As if trying to make even more of a mess.
  
  "Roderick, come on," Vincent pleaded with a sheepish grin. "This isn't nearly as bad as what happened last time. Look on the bright side."
  
  "Because last time you used those fuckin' fire fingers and almost blew the whole goddamn place up, you dress-wearing -- "
  
  "By when you wake, it's all going to be better," the Mage replied, and after a snap of his fingers, the dwarf fell face first into the floor, snoring loudly. "There, there. Nighty, night."
  
  Having withdrawn, Skoll poked the sleeping dwarf with his boot to make sure the spell had worked -- one never knew with the stone children -- before turning back to Morim. "Why don't we find somewhere more suitable to catch-up? Before Frey shows up to give everyone a timeout. Poor Vince here is going to be tied up working his magic to repair the damage, and I'm sure Dirk will want to keep him company."
  
  "I will?" Vincent asked, raising his eyebrow.
  
  "You will."
  
  "She started it!"
  
  "Maybe you should have used Minotaur horn on your enchantments!"
  
  "Maybe you should hire better smugg -- "
  
  Having lead Morim toward the stairs, Skoll closed the door behind them, effectively cutting off the mage's protests, even though they still raged from behind the solid wood. "I'm sure you remember the place."