- Invitation Status
- Look for groups
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- Online Availability
- Dependant
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Science Fiction, Superhero, Horror, Western, Crime Fiction, Anime
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I've sort of been doing this "writing with people on the internet" thing for way too long to be proud of. That's not a jab at this shared hobby of ours, but just a weird sort of way I look at how I've sunk a lot of time into practically the best hobby ever. Anyway, I don't have much of a reputation on Iwaku, so I defer you to my profile, this thread, and my re-introduction thread to get to know me. I like to write anything from slow-paced to mid-paced in a multitude of genres with a variety of ideas. I'm generally partial to small-to-large groups but I'm no alien to 1x1's.
I'm not impartial toward any sort of genre as I take the approach of going into a setting with an open mind. I love character creation, world-building, character development, narrative strength, proving the trope can be written well, and having a taste of every cake on the dinner table. Most importantly before you proceed you should know my central roleplaying credence:
- Roleplaying should focus on developing interesting and complex characters that become part of plot-lines which catch the imagination and inspire the writer behind them to exercise creativity. It is mature, humorous, imaginative, tragic, terrifying, passionate, and rife with descriptive language and characters with real personality and relatable cares. Quality posting is far better than needless novels, yet one should never neglect detail when one feels the need. However, while word and paragraph requirements ought to be unnecessary, single paragraphs cannot contain enough detail to suffice.
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My writing level is somewhere between the framing of intermediate and advanced. I can write solid paragraphs and dialogue depending what is needed or how my creativity is flaring. Depending what the scene is and what I'm given you can get something short or something long. I can write characters of either gender /sexuality, it really doesn't matter to me. After a while writing female characters, adolescents, elders, and stuff in-between I like to think I'm a fairly decent writer all-around when it comes to identity.
I'm also indifferent towards taboos, I've written a lot of those and deconstructed a lot of things regarded as the "norm". Basically, dark or controversial themes do not really bother me.
With that in mind, I'm not on often so do not presume I will be able to post hour-by-hour; there is a difference from reminding me that it's been a week or so without a post and its another to presume myself being online requires me to give you my attention exclusively. It is good to remember I have other friends, RP priorities, and hobbies. With that in mind, I will do my best to be cordial and respectful towards you as my partner so give me the same rope. Ultimately, here are some key notes:
- I prefer to RP through threads
- I don't do smut yet am not afraid of mature themes
- I expect to get what I give on an average rate
- I am pretty flexible.
- If you prefer to drive the plot, want to have equal leadership, or myself to drive it please let me know so neither of us come in with fickle presumptions.
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The problem with me is I'm generally "down" for all flavors of genre, theme, and narrative. I like plots that are imaginative, heartfelt, adventurous, suspenseful, clever, gripping, and fun. I am not looking for a RP that has all of the above, so keep in mind to catch my attention somehow.
As long as it's not tasteless erotica-tier smut.
I'm equally as invested in original concepts, intriguing interpretations of official works, or by the cusp "pretty much fanfiction". I prefer original characters, but I am always down for interpreting a classic canon as long as I'm familiar with them— if I'm not I might make it a bit wildly different. But then again I might make it wildly different if I know the source material just the same, haha. You can hook me with anime, video games, literature, cinema, and all sorts of fun shit. Surprise me. -
A comprehensive list of fandoms and genres I like will be quite large, but I can try to summarize it to the best of my ability. Consider this part of the thread a massive "WIP".
- A Song of Ice & Fire
- Avatar: The Last Airbender
- Blue Exorcist
- Fairy Tail
- The Legend of Zelda
- Seven Deadly Sins
- "Anime"
- Adventure
- Dark Fantasy
- Drama (AKA Slice of Life)
- Gothic Horror
- Magical Girl
- Mecha
- Modern Fantasy
- Post-Apocalyptic
- Psychological Horror
- Sci-Fi Pulp Adventure
- Space Operas
- Space Westerns
- Survival Horror
- Suspense
- Westerns
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"We're almost at the outpost. If they're going to do something it'll happen soon. Be ready."
For Edessa Thorne the entire scenario smelled of rot from the beginning, so much she was surprised she continued to allow herself to travel through the wood when this could've very well been the end of the road, figuratively speaking. The individuals that trudged in the trees and brush were not normal thinking bandits—normal bandits would have kept quiet until the caravan was off guard and there was an ample opportunity for that when they started this journey in the first place. There were many stops before the outpost and for a moment she guessed they were idiot bandits who had no idea what they were doing… until the fog set in. The fog came out of nowhere on an especially dry day with little humidity, almost like there were other forces at work with the bandits.
The raven-haired ranger took a heavy breath on her mare as she tried to look through the fog but it was to no avail. She knew how close they were to the outpost and its walls—but it was still at the most an hour until they were that fortunate and with the way things were beginning to look it certainly appeared that luck was amongst those who wished the caravan harm for their own gain. She did really hate bandits, but she understood why they were becoming more common given the state of the economy of the Valealian provinces. Despite all of the politics she still found herself not recognizing that this was Valaria now or at least it was for the moment. It wasn't too important once they were out of the forest anyway—rural Ferros was on the horizon.
Why did she even take this contract in the first place?
Perhaps it was the idea that she needed to feed two mouths instead of one like she had become used to? It was so hard and she had been so hungry that all of the prospective gold in her face made her blind to the level of danger that would be involved in escorting and leading a merchant caravan through the woodland-entrenched wilderness; even as well-guarded as this caravan was. In fact, she had never seen so many mercenaries sticking with a caravan. What exactly were they hauling to sell to Ferros in the first place?
It must have been special to garner this kind of attention.
"Damn it all." She groaned under her breath, "This fog is going to be the end of us."
Her concerns were not kept to herself, not after seeing one of the mercenary men taken down by an arrow not too long ago. She had not known the man's name but she knew he was barely old enough to hold a sword less alone tasked to deal with bandit hordes of this number. She had assumed he was a farmhand's son who wanted a taste for adventure—it was a shame his first taste was his last. It all sent Edessa's nerves on edge; that much could've been seen by anyone, especially Emil who had traveled with the ranger for at least a year now and knew her expressions well. Her comment made notice of one of the traveling mercenaries beside the two before Emil could make a comment to cool the woman's nerves.
The mercenary adjacent to the two shook his head, "Not if I can help it."
"What good is your help when we cannot see those who seek harm? By the gods, I can barely hear them over the stomping of your mercenaries or the noise of the caravan's horses and carriages!"
The mercenary frowned, "I'm not going to lie, this is a terrible situation we are in, but we shan't just sit down and give up either."
She sighed, at least he was honest as if he had spoken optimistically of how there was nothing to worry about she would've had to smacked him upside the head. Optimism was all well and dandy as long as it wasn't naïve and foolhardy—or at least that's how the Gorgonite girl felt about it. His words were right though: they shouldn't give up just because of their rotten luck. But Edessa was not planning to give up in the first place, either. She would've given up long ago if their bleak scenario scared her that much.
Edessa nodded, "I'm not giving up, at any rate. If I had given up I would've left you for the wolves."
"So why haven't you?"
Why haven't you?
It was a legitimate question, but she wasn't sure what to say to it. She easily could've left them all to die when the bandits struck them next whenever that would be, but nothing in her gut or mind suggested that was an option. Many of the merchants were unarmed and some of them apprenticing children in the mercantile arts. The images flashing of the consequences of leaving the mercenaries and the caravan to fend on their own were dreadful and very disturbing. Knowing the nature of bandits was terrible and she had to wonder if the times were going to get better at all given the political revolt of Valaria, the tyranny of the 'King' of Gorgon, the anarchic life that many men and woman pursued as the economy fell, and of course the presence of the Order of the Rose eluding all mages to potential necromancers. How could anyone comfortably live in this world?
She broke from her pause after a half-a-minute, "I shan't be responsible for the deaths of innocents. I guess my morality is a curse of sorts, a curse that my mentor bestowed on me when I was learning the ways of a Ranger."
"If morality is a fool's gambit, then paint me a jester as well." The mercenary replied happily.
A white knight mercenary, huh? The thought made Edessa nearly chuckle even though they were not worlds apart. The Gorgonite girl took coin just as much as the mercenary did; she just held a different priority in her profession. Though she had to wonder how many of the mercenaries were like him and valued morals over coin? Surely not all of them, as that would be quite illogical given the odds. In fact, she was sure some survivors during the most recent strike by the bandits had booked it with the pretense that it was no longer their problem.
She smiled at the sentiment. "I just hope our foolishness will be enough to live through this."
"Indeed."
Edessa paused, perhaps it would be good to know the man's name beside her rather than he be just another faceless sword in the wood. It oddly brought her ease to know such things when other rangers or mercenaries would liken it to naming a pig before a roast—'Don't add an attachment to someone that will die.' – She remembered the mantra well enough but honestly didn't care about it now or ever really.
"So, what's your name ser?"
The mercenary chuckled at her 'noble' reference as he was certainly not knighted, and if he had been he was no longer in the service of Kings and Queens but rather any soul with coin to their name. Less bound by chivalry and more bound by currency. Regardless, he still replied with an answer. "Gaarth."
"That's a Valealian name, correct?"
He nodded, "And yours, ranger?"
"It's Valealian as well." She replied, unintentionally coyly at that.
Since her retreat to the Valealian countryside those many years ago, Edessa had become quite decent at identifying cultural benchmarks such as naming conventions, cultural nuances, and other such things. Despite herself using an Valealian name she did still sport the look of a Gorgonite—though people wrote that off often as her parents being of two different worlds. She wondered if she ever slipped up in the past and caused one to be suspicious of who she was though; but her guardian and mentor had trained her to be careful and she had been. But sooner or later she feared her past would catch up to her somehow.
"Very funny, lass." The mercenary half-laughed as he caught another smile grace the girl's lips.
"It's Edessa." The ranger spoke with a smile. "Edessa Thorne."
The full name shot some weight at the mercenary, as it was one of the names that traveled amongst the townsfolk of the countryside. For those that she had helped, people had remembered and where they remembered they spoke fondly of when divulging in their taverns. It had its benefits having a reputation, however small it in reality was, of course. Either way, the mercenary nodded as if he recognized it but not enough to comment on, it wouldn't have surprised her if he was new to this neck of Valaria after all given how the caravan picked an awful route to travel. Edessa had suggested the longer route that held less outposts, but there seemed to be an immediacy by whoever was in charge so they took the route most likely scouted by bandits.
She wondered if they would've lost this many men had they followed her advice?
In spite of such thoughts, the raven-haired Gorgonite took her eyes to scanning the fog and the woodlands around her with bow in hand. She had a job to do.You must reconsider your stance on the damned and the undying, for there is no one I know more fit to show the world that the survivors of New Anur are prepared to reveal their unwavering courage to confront the spectres of our forebears. For if we leave the problem exclusively to humankind and others we would be committing treason against our moral and ethical responsibility to not the world but ourselves. You are one of the last members of our generation's Saethydd— I implore you to begin showing that you have not forgotten what the word Saethydd means.
A wry smile formed on the side of the grey elf's face, her cool cerulean eyes looking over the parchment that contained her brother's letter; a letter that she had re-read an amount of times that had by this point been lost to her memory. Afarene Taranau felt the unease in the camp, 'the calm before the storm' as the human expression went and looking over her brother's correspondence had just been an additional remainder about the sheer amount of weight that she was about to willingly take on. The damned and undying, eternally forsaken, and that of which posed a threat beyond the trappings of race, class, or faith; a threat that everyone had spent almost forty years fighting and one that Afarene had tried the hardest to ignore and avoid due to its connection with the death of not only thousands upon thousands of innocent elven people, but especially so for the loss of her mother, whom there was no individual she idolized more. But her brother was eloquent, charismatic, and most of all correct in his assertions. As far as she thought about it, she actually hated how right he was; for if he wasn't then she could've accepted the world's fate until the undying would consume them all.
So here she was, at the Greater Cardinal War Camp on the eve of an effort that was as foolish as it was hopeless attempting to ignore that fact— but her brother had convinced her of its worth so maybe it wasn't as hopeless and foolish as she believed.
I doubt it, but there is little point to turning back now.
From her placement in her tent in the back row of the north-side of the encampment, Afarene took a heavy breath as she made sure her equipment was all on-hand. She wasn't sure why she was being so meticulous about it when she knew that everything was as it had been the previous night and the night before it; but perilous anxiety was rarely sensible and this was no exception. Her hand moved forward to the trinket that hung from her neck, holding it between her fingers to give some sort of ease to the anxious alacrity that she felt; an old affect made of elven craftsmanship that her mother had given her when she graduated to the role of a Saethydd a few years before the Fall of New Anur. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make her at ease— it was one of the few items that could. As she did such she could feel her emotions dull for a moment and released it as she grabbed a nearby cloak in a rucksack on the ground and threw it over her armor and clothes that were on her back, pulling the hood up to obscure herself. With her quiver, bow, swords, and pack all sorted upon her person it was time to leave her tent and get to her commanding agent of this whole "blessed crusade", Duchess Aina Stormsparrow.
"O deued dydd pan fo awelon, Duw yn chwytu eto dros ein herwau gwyw." She muttered underneath her breath, a passage of words from the elven language and more specifically the spoken word of faith— a prayer.
'Bring the day when God's breeze blows again over our withering acres.'Graham nearly smirked. After all this time she still was as aggressive as ever yet with enough wit to know how to phrase the question without incident. It was interesting to him to see Agatha still had her "edge" despite retiring to three decades of being a scrapper and scavenger over what she was actually good at. All those years ago with him being an upstart brat in an iron armor… did it make her quit being who she was? or was it simply the fact of her children? Either way, he was glad he had not demoted himself to such things – it made him know he was different, and perhaps greater than what was effectively a husk of what once was even if she tried to have the same bite as before. He wondered if she could pass his test? It would be interesting to see.
Graham thought about this question often because it had been one that came up with valiant cries of morality that many people had shot at him in the past; cries he had rejected entirely. The first part of Agatha's question was one that was often directed about how far was morally or ethically acceptable with things such as slavery, raiding, genocide, and so forth being accompanied with the conversation. While Graham viewed all of those things as bad he didn't think so for the same reasons as his peers. It brought him back to a talk he had with the second member of the trinity back when he was still just a simple NC pilot... it had been after the Elysian War.
"That is a very large question." He stated as he stepped outside to the white fuzz of a "mild" snowstorm before turning his head.
"This obviously goes beyond simple insubordination and circumnavigation of authority or regulations."
"Let me make something abundantly clear to all of you. I don't believe in children's fantasies of 'good' and 'evil', I believe in the absolute principle of order— a concept that promotes excellence, professionalism, integrity, organization, and heart. Order doesn't allow fantasy, order allows you to be happy with your reality. I will tell you that I will do everything in my power that I can to make New Anchorage efficient with no empathy for fantasies of my officers. There is no place for it in my organization. None."
He took a light breath, the cold air leaving his lips.
"If it requires me to be "unfair" than I will do it. If that scares you… then resign right here and now, and take your tail between your legs and get the hell out of my base. I refuse to have pilots who get a little queasy around decision and shake when the cards are drawn."
His brows narrowed as his turned head looked over the group in their entirety. "So what of it? Are any of you rabble not worth your spit? Are any of you unable? Tell me now."By the goddess, he's so insufferably boring.
As far as Princess Rhelissa was concerned, this whole "imperial academy" business had started like she had predicted it would— boring, unimpressive, and a complete waste of her time. A poor impression indeed considering how she had not spent much time within the halls of the prestigious citadel of learning. Regardless of that fact it mattered very little in the long term— the proper agreements were put forward with her guardianship being handed over for the second time in her life. So with a disinterested expression on her face she stood onward listening to the prattling of a man who thought he was more important than he actually was. But she supposed that was common of men and women who held little significance, especially in the south. Perhaps it was the intolerable heat that was the result of the desert winds carrying themselves to Hulevia through the north wind?
She always did hate the southern weather.
Rhelissa's brows narrowed as the Grand Keeper continued on with his speech as she began to see subtleties in his dialogue that had she not been intelligent may not have picked up. A light smile curled on her lips from the intriguing facts that this man tried to keep secretly hidden away. Underneath all of the politeness and inspirational flowerings of his speech were little words that he repeated— a flaw in his understanding of the common language or perhaps an indulgence he could not let go of. Words like friend, truly, and ward were meant to be used lightly but he spoke them with emphasis. A minor deduction of any individual with relative intelligence and perception would show that this was a man that loved power of other; especially those with greater prestige than he could ever wield. The power to discipline the "future" of the imperium if he so wished. But he flavored it with guile and insistence on his friendly disposition. Interesting, but worrisome.
He finished his introductory speech with a phrase from the old tongue of the south—what her ancestors had called "the summer language". E Pluribus Unum, otherwise meaning "One from Many". She supposed he was an intellectual shill who served to only exist to eat the trash thrown on the streets like a bottom feeding eel and thus liked repeating words he had heard of some decades ago. Pathetic.
And so she was left to her own devices. She had already told her companions to keep their distance or get busy—the only one who remained within her relative vicinity being that of Ser Lucarn whom had designated a comfortable yet appropriate distance away from her in The Great Hall. She did find his insistence amusing even back in the castle halls of her home in Aladore; she imagined he would not change much, but really she did not completely mind his presence being a little intrusive. After all, he had a responsibility to upkeep as her sworn sword and protector. Just like she had a responsibility to serve as a student and Princess of Aladore.
Heh.
Her thoughtful musings came to a halt as the chattering of others began before she could find a sensible place to sit down and read— though the voice was one she had known for the last year or so considering her guardianship under her father as was the wish of her own father. Princess Telaivas of Xahria.
"Princess Rhellissa? Is that you?" She spoke, a gentle smile upon her face, though it had a slight mischievous curl, a small chink in her facade. "It has been quite a while, hasn't it?"
She must be referring to the fortnight reprieve since we last saw one another— prior to the Patriarch's funeral. Did she get so lonesome or forgetful in such a short time? Pity if so.
Rhelissa nodded as she turned to her friend, "Around a fortnight and a half, yes. You seem well."
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