W
Witcheress
Guest
Original poster
Hello lovely people of Iwaku!
First, I will give you the low-down on 'me'. I'm 23, female, and I'm Australian. Sydney EST, mate.
So I'm little out of whack in correlation to the rest of the world, and depending on my schedule I might disappear for a little while every so often. While I do, always, commit to a Role Play to the best of my ability, point of fact is that it is an enjoyable pastime for me, and not a huge priority in the grand scheme of my little corner of life. Therefore, the best of my ability may not meet my partner's expectations if they are quite high, so if you are someone who requires I respond at least once every 24 hours to stay motivated with the story, then I am probably not the partner for you - happy searching!
I'm fairly confident in my writing, but I don't consider myself 'advanced'. I generally write between 3 - 6 paragraphs in a post, sometimes more, sometimes less. I will not try to dictate how much my partner writes, but please be aware that if you respond to a descriptive and emotive four paragraph post with a single, blasé sentence, I will not reply - that, to me, is sheer laziness and I would much rather you have taken an extra day, week or even a month to find the time and motivation to reply properly than leave me all but writing by myself. Having said that, I certainly don't expect you to write half a novel every time you respond. I greatly prefer Quality over Quantity.
I'm not a grammar Nazi - everyone makes mistakes, and in fact there are probably a billion in this prompt alone - but I do ask that you make an effort to ensure your grammar, punctuation and spelling is correct. If you dont put any effort into your grammer and couldnt even be bothered with a quick autocorrect and your sentances look like this then im sorry but it doesnt matter how amazing your imagination is i just cant cope sorry not sorry.
I enjoy blood and gore probably more than is concidered healthy. I prefer to play Male characters, and can play as an antagonist or an antagonistic protagonist, but I'm terrible at playing the all round 'good guy'. I'm an avid lover of anything Urban Fantasy. I also enjoy dystopia and sci-fi, and I'm not opposed to a good dollop of romance, though I enjoy the romantic build-up more than I do steady relationships or love-sick mushiness. Tough love and a bit of emotional turmoil makes things all the more interesting. And, of course, it doesn't always have to end happily ever after.
I do RP smutt, but I only RP mature (18 and over) characters in heterosexual relationships if there is to be scenes of an explicit sexual nature. Please do not consider this discriminative, it is simply what I am most comfortable with. I don't RP unlawful or otherwise non-consensual sexual content in any capacity, nor am I interested in vulgarity or oddities. Keep it clean and somewhat tasteful.
WRITING EXAMPLES
PAIRINGS AND PLOTS
First, I will give you the low-down on 'me'. I'm 23, female, and I'm Australian. Sydney EST, mate.
So I'm little out of whack in correlation to the rest of the world, and depending on my schedule I might disappear for a little while every so often. While I do, always, commit to a Role Play to the best of my ability, point of fact is that it is an enjoyable pastime for me, and not a huge priority in the grand scheme of my little corner of life. Therefore, the best of my ability may not meet my partner's expectations if they are quite high, so if you are someone who requires I respond at least once every 24 hours to stay motivated with the story, then I am probably not the partner for you - happy searching!
I'm fairly confident in my writing, but I don't consider myself 'advanced'. I generally write between 3 - 6 paragraphs in a post, sometimes more, sometimes less. I will not try to dictate how much my partner writes, but please be aware that if you respond to a descriptive and emotive four paragraph post with a single, blasé sentence, I will not reply - that, to me, is sheer laziness and I would much rather you have taken an extra day, week or even a month to find the time and motivation to reply properly than leave me all but writing by myself. Having said that, I certainly don't expect you to write half a novel every time you respond. I greatly prefer Quality over Quantity.
I'm not a grammar Nazi - everyone makes mistakes, and in fact there are probably a billion in this prompt alone - but I do ask that you make an effort to ensure your grammar, punctuation and spelling is correct. If you dont put any effort into your grammer and couldnt even be bothered with a quick autocorrect and your sentances look like this then im sorry but it doesnt matter how amazing your imagination is i just cant cope sorry not sorry.
I enjoy blood and gore probably more than is concidered healthy. I prefer to play Male characters, and can play as an antagonist or an antagonistic protagonist, but I'm terrible at playing the all round 'good guy'. I'm an avid lover of anything Urban Fantasy. I also enjoy dystopia and sci-fi, and I'm not opposed to a good dollop of romance, though I enjoy the romantic build-up more than I do steady relationships or love-sick mushiness. Tough love and a bit of emotional turmoil makes things all the more interesting. And, of course, it doesn't always have to end happily ever after.
I do RP smutt, but I only RP mature (18 and over) characters in heterosexual relationships if there is to be scenes of an explicit sexual nature. Please do not consider this discriminative, it is simply what I am most comfortable with. I don't RP unlawful or otherwise non-consensual sexual content in any capacity, nor am I interested in vulgarity or oddities. Keep it clean and somewhat tasteful.
- Fandom. Particularly 'canon characters'. I'd make an exception for an OC-driven 'J.K. Rowling's Wizarding World' based RP or something of the like, but not a 'Harry Potter' or 'Fantastic Beasts' RP.
- Outrageously exaggerated super powers. Kaaammee...haammee...HAAAAAAA!
- Telepathic characters. Let's just not try and predict what each other's characters are about to do, OK?
- Furry/Anthro/Aliens. Sorry, not even remotely interested.
- Animals. From an Animal's POV, that is.
- Anime. Love watching it, but don't enjoy writing it.
- School. I'll make an exception so long as the Plot is super awesome.
- Love at first sight. Bleugh!
- Outrageously exaggerated super powers. Kaaammee...haammee...HAAAAAAA!
- Telepathic characters. Let's just not try and predict what each other's characters are about to do, OK?
- Furry/Anthro/Aliens. Sorry, not even remotely interested.
- Animals. From an Animal's POV, that is.
- Anime. Love watching it, but don't enjoy writing it.
- School. I'll make an exception so long as the Plot is super awesome.
- Love at first sight. Bleugh!
- No god-moding. The only characters you may control are your own or NPCs. At no point should you assume the effect your character has over my own, nor should you attempt to dictate my characters actions or reactions unless I've first given permission for you to do so.
- No power-gaming. I like for my RPs to be plot-driven, not a series of events in which your character absolutely annihilates any and all complications and adversaries. That's no fun.
-No meta-gaming. While I might write in detail what my character is thinking or feeling or planning in a post, this does not mean your character can automatically assume to know or react in a way that squarely reflects these thoughts unless there is physical, verbal or otherwise tangible evidence to clue them in.
- Be descriptive. "X looked at Z" is not descriptive. "X looked curiously at Z" is. "Z held X's hand and smiled" is not descriptive. "Z reached for X's hand, threading her warm fingers though his own, and offered her an encouraging smile" is.
- Contribute to the RP. Reply to the previous post, process what has been done or said, and add new information in order to continue the story.
- Be Consistent. There's nothing more irritating than a character that has six different personalities that change with every post.
- No Mary Sue/Gary Stu's. That is to say, please don't use flawlessly idealised characters with unprecedented skill in absolutely everything and no shortcomings whatsoever
- No power-gaming. I like for my RPs to be plot-driven, not a series of events in which your character absolutely annihilates any and all complications and adversaries. That's no fun.
-No meta-gaming. While I might write in detail what my character is thinking or feeling or planning in a post, this does not mean your character can automatically assume to know or react in a way that squarely reflects these thoughts unless there is physical, verbal or otherwise tangible evidence to clue them in.
- Be descriptive. "X looked at Z" is not descriptive. "X looked curiously at Z" is. "Z held X's hand and smiled" is not descriptive. "Z reached for X's hand, threading her warm fingers though his own, and offered her an encouraging smile" is.
- Contribute to the RP. Reply to the previous post, process what has been done or said, and add new information in order to continue the story.
- Be Consistent. There's nothing more irritating than a character that has six different personalities that change with every post.
- No Mary Sue/Gary Stu's. That is to say, please don't use flawlessly idealised characters with unprecedented skill in absolutely everything and no shortcomings whatsoever
WRITING EXAMPLES
Julius appeared rather shocked as the little woman trotted out of the front door, with nothing but a backpack slung over her shoulder. He was crouched in front of the front bumper, his hand still poised against the steel, where his fingers had been examining a patch of rough, grated metal. The glossy finish had been stripped off against the concrete guttering, and the guard had been twisted into disfigurement. Large chips of paint were missing.
Up until that point, Julius had been scowling.
'Is that it?' he asked, staring at the blue pack with an expression teetering somewhere between bewilderment and antipathy. He got to his feet and strode to the boot, which had been left agar, and pulled it up. A space large enough for a moderately sized suitcase had been cleared amongst Julius's own possessions. The blue backpack seemed rather desolated when it was set in it's place, and Julius pulled his leather-cased laptop out from where he had squashed it awkwardly beside his duffel bag, and set it in a rather less hazardous position beside it.
The boot clicked shut. Julius turned to Jez, expression ashen once more as he gazed down at her. 'You're absolutely sure?' he questioned with a tone of finality. It wasn't that there was no going back for her, but the commitment was daunting, even for him. He imagined this was something similar to what marriage might feel like.
She responded to his inquisition with an apathetic, noncommittal "Fuck off' and retreated back through the passenger's side door. Julius, who had stood meagerly discombobulated on the spot for a moment, shook his head, and made his way around to the driver's seat.
Up until that point, Julius had been scowling.
'Is that it?' he asked, staring at the blue pack with an expression teetering somewhere between bewilderment and antipathy. He got to his feet and strode to the boot, which had been left agar, and pulled it up. A space large enough for a moderately sized suitcase had been cleared amongst Julius's own possessions. The blue backpack seemed rather desolated when it was set in it's place, and Julius pulled his leather-cased laptop out from where he had squashed it awkwardly beside his duffel bag, and set it in a rather less hazardous position beside it.
The boot clicked shut. Julius turned to Jez, expression ashen once more as he gazed down at her. 'You're absolutely sure?' he questioned with a tone of finality. It wasn't that there was no going back for her, but the commitment was daunting, even for him. He imagined this was something similar to what marriage might feel like.
She responded to his inquisition with an apathetic, noncommittal "Fuck off' and retreated back through the passenger's side door. Julius, who had stood meagerly discombobulated on the spot for a moment, shook his head, and made his way around to the driver's seat.
WARNING: R18+ for moderate sexual content and extreme violence/death.
The woman had already decided what she wanted. All Echo need do was oblige. It hadn't taken long for her to fall willingly into his arms, for her hot little hands to wriggle boldly beneath the hem of his shirt and her plump, wet lips to begin their drunken exploration of his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. Once upon a time, he'd rather enjoyed this kind of attention. Occasionally, he still did. But Laura's clumsy probing was hardly an endearing experience, and after a few long moments of enduring her breathing heavily in his ear, he found himself growing irritated with her.
Denying himself the urge to shove her hands away from him, he coaxed her closer still, guiding her knees around his hips while her fingers inched his shirt up, exposing the smooth, pale slabs that formed his abdomen. He ignored her venture as best he could, his palms witlessly skimming her flanks in a half-hearted response to her fondling, and turned his attention to the thick, pulsating vein worming just beneath the delicate surface of her throat, barely an inch from the tip of his nose.
His nostrils flared as his lips parted, and he drew her scent deep into his chest. A heavy tremor rippled through his body as his hunger ignited in the back of his throat, gnawing at his gullet like ravenous rats at a putrid corpse, and his soft mouth recoiling over wicked prongs of pin-sharp enamel. His tongue snaked out between them, teasing a path along Laura's jugular throbbing along with her heartbeat. Above him she withered and moaned, thighs tightening and hips rolling. His fingers viced against her waist as his jaw began to hinge -
"You're so fucking hot."
Fortunately, Echo's grunt of annoyance was mistaken perhaps for a moan as Laura reared back to tug his shirt over his head. Her own shortly followed, and for a fleeting moment his ominous objective was somewhat adjourned by carnal desire as he came face-to-face with the swell of her subtle chest, held at his attention by cups crafted of elegant black lace.
His curiosity was quickly chased away as Laura bore down on him again, her perfectly manicured fingers knotting tightly in his hair as her open lips smashed into his with a clatter of teeth. He very nearly swallowed her tongue as it dove into the depths of his throat, hot and thick and tasting of secondhand spirits and souring breath. He cringed, but refrained from shying. He needn't have bothered, for a second later Laura yelped and reeled away from him, her grip leaving his bay tresses to clutch at her mouth in horror.
"You bit me!" she shrieked, moving her hands to expose bloodied palms. He hadn't; she'd snagged her lip on one of his fangs; one of the more annoying side effects of having a set of small knives permanently fixed to one's top jaw - yet one more anomaly that set Echo apart from his Vampire cousins - though there was no point in trying to explain that to Laura. She would probably scream.
He couldn't have that.
She tried, of course, but Echo's grip was firm and his bite vicious. The sound muffled against his palm and bubbled in her throat as blood puddled in her windpipe. She twisted and jerked in his lap, her free hand grappling feebly at his face and shoulder, clawing his cheek and ripping at his hair, but to no avail. Her neck and breast stained scarlet as she tore herself against the wicked tips of his fangs. Tears poured from her terrified eyes.
Echo didn't hear her pleads, didn't feel her resistance, paid no mind to the blood splattering his face and dripping down his chin. The vice of his jaws tightened as the river of blood began to thin, his grip on her wrist strengthening until he felt the bones pop and splinter beneath her skin. Her heart spluttered, her breath came in shallow gasps, her eyes rolled, and then she was dead.
Laura's body hit the floor with a heavy thud, her glassy blue eyes wide and staring into blank space, unwavering even as her skull bounced against the hard timber flooring. Above her Echo heaved a great sigh of relief, running a hand through his bedevilled mane of bay hair, and slouched back against the soft cushions of the plush leather couch.
The kill was a mess. One more suited to a fledgling Vampire delinquent than that of Echo's experience. But it was hardly concerning - human investigators did not believe in the supernatural, just deranged psychopaths, and their forensics team would no doubt come up with a logical, scientifically sound explanation as to her cause of death. As far as they were concerned, Echo was a lunatic, but an otherwise ordinary man. And he would be gone before anyone who knew better caught wind of what had happened here tonight.
The woman had already decided what she wanted. All Echo need do was oblige. It hadn't taken long for her to fall willingly into his arms, for her hot little hands to wriggle boldly beneath the hem of his shirt and her plump, wet lips to begin their drunken exploration of his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. Once upon a time, he'd rather enjoyed this kind of attention. Occasionally, he still did. But Laura's clumsy probing was hardly an endearing experience, and after a few long moments of enduring her breathing heavily in his ear, he found himself growing irritated with her.
Denying himself the urge to shove her hands away from him, he coaxed her closer still, guiding her knees around his hips while her fingers inched his shirt up, exposing the smooth, pale slabs that formed his abdomen. He ignored her venture as best he could, his palms witlessly skimming her flanks in a half-hearted response to her fondling, and turned his attention to the thick, pulsating vein worming just beneath the delicate surface of her throat, barely an inch from the tip of his nose.
His nostrils flared as his lips parted, and he drew her scent deep into his chest. A heavy tremor rippled through his body as his hunger ignited in the back of his throat, gnawing at his gullet like ravenous rats at a putrid corpse, and his soft mouth recoiling over wicked prongs of pin-sharp enamel. His tongue snaked out between them, teasing a path along Laura's jugular throbbing along with her heartbeat. Above him she withered and moaned, thighs tightening and hips rolling. His fingers viced against her waist as his jaw began to hinge -
"You're so fucking hot."
Fortunately, Echo's grunt of annoyance was mistaken perhaps for a moan as Laura reared back to tug his shirt over his head. Her own shortly followed, and for a fleeting moment his ominous objective was somewhat adjourned by carnal desire as he came face-to-face with the swell of her subtle chest, held at his attention by cups crafted of elegant black lace.
His curiosity was quickly chased away as Laura bore down on him again, her perfectly manicured fingers knotting tightly in his hair as her open lips smashed into his with a clatter of teeth. He very nearly swallowed her tongue as it dove into the depths of his throat, hot and thick and tasting of secondhand spirits and souring breath. He cringed, but refrained from shying. He needn't have bothered, for a second later Laura yelped and reeled away from him, her grip leaving his bay tresses to clutch at her mouth in horror.
"You bit me!" she shrieked, moving her hands to expose bloodied palms. He hadn't; she'd snagged her lip on one of his fangs; one of the more annoying side effects of having a set of small knives permanently fixed to one's top jaw - yet one more anomaly that set Echo apart from his Vampire cousins - though there was no point in trying to explain that to Laura. She would probably scream.
He couldn't have that.
She tried, of course, but Echo's grip was firm and his bite vicious. The sound muffled against his palm and bubbled in her throat as blood puddled in her windpipe. She twisted and jerked in his lap, her free hand grappling feebly at his face and shoulder, clawing his cheek and ripping at his hair, but to no avail. Her neck and breast stained scarlet as she tore herself against the wicked tips of his fangs. Tears poured from her terrified eyes.
Echo didn't hear her pleads, didn't feel her resistance, paid no mind to the blood splattering his face and dripping down his chin. The vice of his jaws tightened as the river of blood began to thin, his grip on her wrist strengthening until he felt the bones pop and splinter beneath her skin. Her heart spluttered, her breath came in shallow gasps, her eyes rolled, and then she was dead.
Laura's body hit the floor with a heavy thud, her glassy blue eyes wide and staring into blank space, unwavering even as her skull bounced against the hard timber flooring. Above her Echo heaved a great sigh of relief, running a hand through his bedevilled mane of bay hair, and slouched back against the soft cushions of the plush leather couch.
The kill was a mess. One more suited to a fledgling Vampire delinquent than that of Echo's experience. But it was hardly concerning - human investigators did not believe in the supernatural, just deranged psychopaths, and their forensics team would no doubt come up with a logical, scientifically sound explanation as to her cause of death. As far as they were concerned, Echo was a lunatic, but an otherwise ordinary man. And he would be gone before anyone who knew better caught wind of what had happened here tonight.
The weather had not cleared Thursday morning. Elliot was glad - in a trade such as his, heavy rain and electrical storms were life threatening. Operating heavy machinery, or disassembling buildings manually was a treacherous job at best, but in the midst of such a ferocious storm it was borderline suicide. So, instead of clambering out of bed at the blear of the alarm-clock, Elliot punched the snooze button and rolled over while he waited for his phone to ring, and the Operations Manager to inform him he had the day off. Which is exactly what happened, twenty minutes before he was due to start on-site.
'You still snoozin', Hawksley?' came the gravelly voice of old, leather-faced Stewart Kelley. Elliot grunted into the speaker. 'Right'o, we'll let you know what we're ready to start back up.' And that was that.
It was just shy of ten o'clock when the temperamental young man made his way back down the stairs. He set the kettle on and stoked the fire, and stuffed two slices of wholegrain bread into the toaster while he mixed his steaming mug of morning tea. He didn't bother dressing. He wasn't expecting anyone.
Aside from the Postman, that was, who usually did his rounds of the area at about half past ten. Right on schedule, the slot in the door cracked open and a small bundle of letters spewed onto the polished hardwood floor. Elliot, who was making his way back towards the stairs, had just plucked them up to examine them when he heard the Postman speaking to someone.
'...goodness, you're filthy! Doesn't you're owner ever wash you, you poor darling!'
Correction. Post-woman.
Elliot opened the door, glowering. A slight lady clad in a bright orange raincoat froze in place, and stared bug-eyed up at him.
'Is something the matter?' Elliot drawled listlessly. The woman blinked, and straightened to her full height, from where she looked down her nose at the small, dark-haired man. Elliot scowled up at her.
'No,' she said. 'I was just admiring your dog.' Elliot sneered.
'If you like it, take it,' he told her. 'It's not mine.' He cast a critical grey eye over the filthy mutt, expression fouling further as she sat at his feet, panting imprudently. 'And don't forget to wash it.'
The woman seemed rather taken aback. Her eyes flickered from Elliot to the mutt as if she were watching a fast-paced tennis match, expression torn. 'Well, I would,' she started defensively, 'but I rent, so-'
'So then you have no further business on my property, and I would like for you to leave.' The woman's jaw dropped. Elliot smirked evilly, and shut the door again. The Postwoman glowered.
'What a horrible man,' she uttered under her breath. Her eyes softened regretfully at the dog. 'I'm sorry, girl. I'd take you if I could,' she said. She hesitated, before turning her back on the canine and trotted out into the rain towards the next house.
--
If it weren't for the brief break in the clouds, Elliot might never have heard it. The emphatic SPLASH from below his bedroom window froze him in place; head whipping around to examine the large tree bowing over his garden fence. There was no noteworthy gap in it's twisted tangle of woody arms, or it's thick, green foliage where a branch might have fallen free. Elliot frowned, and ambled towards the pane of glass to examine his properly.
And barred his teeth furiously.
That ridiculous mutt was paddling about in his pool, a halo of brownish muck leaking from it's filthy coat visible in grand contrast to the clear, clean water from even the second story of his home. He swore loudly, and pulled open the window.
'OI!' he hollered. 'Get out, you mangy dog!'
It ignored him.
Muttering obscurities under his breath, Elliot slammed the window closed so harshly the glass rattled in it's frame, and marched out the door. He stomped down the stairs two at a time, and strode to the back door. It was locked when he went to yank it open, and he sneered angrily as he flipped the inch-long lever and threw the heavy glass door agape.
'Hey! Get out of my pool!' he shrieked, picking up a plastic door stop from the floor and hurling it at the dog. A gust of wind blew strongly from his left, and the stopper curved right, missing it's mark by a long shot.
Elliot eyed the beast critically as it approached him. He was no dog expert, but he thought the creature staring stupidly up at him must be some form of German Shepherd mongrel, with it's odd, darkly mottled dorsal line and russet cream coat. Old Stewart Kelley had a German Shepherd, he was quite sure. They were a similar shape, although the mutt before him struck Elliot as being significantly larger.
And then the dog threw it's head back, muzzle poised towards the dreary sky, and it howled. Not like a dog's whimpering yowl when it was lonely or injured, but an eerie, wild call that sent a chill racing up your spine, and forced the hair at the nape of your neck to stand on end. It howled like a wolf.
A tremor ricocheted through Elliot's short frame as something dark and fierce stirred from within him. It flexed its dagger-like talons, and barred it's teeth as a surge of heat bubbled and spidered through his veins. His intestines squirmed uncomfortably, and a wave of nausea washed over him with such intent his knees went weak and wobbly, and he struggled to remain upright. The dark haired man shuddered, blood draining from his face, leaving his already fair complexion nearly translucent.
But the full moon is still two weeks off! What the fuck is going on?
'Get out of here!' he snapped furiously, reeling backwards, and he slammed the back door in the dog's - no, the wolf's face. The drapes followed suit, and Elliot retreated further into the depths of his home. He buckled over the kitchen sink, gagging, but already the black sickness had begun to settle, and the disturbed beast curled into a tight ball within his chest and began to doze off again.
'You still snoozin', Hawksley?' came the gravelly voice of old, leather-faced Stewart Kelley. Elliot grunted into the speaker. 'Right'o, we'll let you know what we're ready to start back up.' And that was that.
It was just shy of ten o'clock when the temperamental young man made his way back down the stairs. He set the kettle on and stoked the fire, and stuffed two slices of wholegrain bread into the toaster while he mixed his steaming mug of morning tea. He didn't bother dressing. He wasn't expecting anyone.
Aside from the Postman, that was, who usually did his rounds of the area at about half past ten. Right on schedule, the slot in the door cracked open and a small bundle of letters spewed onto the polished hardwood floor. Elliot, who was making his way back towards the stairs, had just plucked them up to examine them when he heard the Postman speaking to someone.
'...goodness, you're filthy! Doesn't you're owner ever wash you, you poor darling!'
Correction. Post-woman.
Elliot opened the door, glowering. A slight lady clad in a bright orange raincoat froze in place, and stared bug-eyed up at him.
'Is something the matter?' Elliot drawled listlessly. The woman blinked, and straightened to her full height, from where she looked down her nose at the small, dark-haired man. Elliot scowled up at her.
'No,' she said. 'I was just admiring your dog.' Elliot sneered.
'If you like it, take it,' he told her. 'It's not mine.' He cast a critical grey eye over the filthy mutt, expression fouling further as she sat at his feet, panting imprudently. 'And don't forget to wash it.'
The woman seemed rather taken aback. Her eyes flickered from Elliot to the mutt as if she were watching a fast-paced tennis match, expression torn. 'Well, I would,' she started defensively, 'but I rent, so-'
'So then you have no further business on my property, and I would like for you to leave.' The woman's jaw dropped. Elliot smirked evilly, and shut the door again. The Postwoman glowered.
'What a horrible man,' she uttered under her breath. Her eyes softened regretfully at the dog. 'I'm sorry, girl. I'd take you if I could,' she said. She hesitated, before turning her back on the canine and trotted out into the rain towards the next house.
--
If it weren't for the brief break in the clouds, Elliot might never have heard it. The emphatic SPLASH from below his bedroom window froze him in place; head whipping around to examine the large tree bowing over his garden fence. There was no noteworthy gap in it's twisted tangle of woody arms, or it's thick, green foliage where a branch might have fallen free. Elliot frowned, and ambled towards the pane of glass to examine his properly.
And barred his teeth furiously.
That ridiculous mutt was paddling about in his pool, a halo of brownish muck leaking from it's filthy coat visible in grand contrast to the clear, clean water from even the second story of his home. He swore loudly, and pulled open the window.
'OI!' he hollered. 'Get out, you mangy dog!'
It ignored him.
Muttering obscurities under his breath, Elliot slammed the window closed so harshly the glass rattled in it's frame, and marched out the door. He stomped down the stairs two at a time, and strode to the back door. It was locked when he went to yank it open, and he sneered angrily as he flipped the inch-long lever and threw the heavy glass door agape.
'Hey! Get out of my pool!' he shrieked, picking up a plastic door stop from the floor and hurling it at the dog. A gust of wind blew strongly from his left, and the stopper curved right, missing it's mark by a long shot.
Elliot eyed the beast critically as it approached him. He was no dog expert, but he thought the creature staring stupidly up at him must be some form of German Shepherd mongrel, with it's odd, darkly mottled dorsal line and russet cream coat. Old Stewart Kelley had a German Shepherd, he was quite sure. They were a similar shape, although the mutt before him struck Elliot as being significantly larger.
And then the dog threw it's head back, muzzle poised towards the dreary sky, and it howled. Not like a dog's whimpering yowl when it was lonely or injured, but an eerie, wild call that sent a chill racing up your spine, and forced the hair at the nape of your neck to stand on end. It howled like a wolf.
A tremor ricocheted through Elliot's short frame as something dark and fierce stirred from within him. It flexed its dagger-like talons, and barred it's teeth as a surge of heat bubbled and spidered through his veins. His intestines squirmed uncomfortably, and a wave of nausea washed over him with such intent his knees went weak and wobbly, and he struggled to remain upright. The dark haired man shuddered, blood draining from his face, leaving his already fair complexion nearly translucent.
But the full moon is still two weeks off! What the fuck is going on?
'Get out of here!' he snapped furiously, reeling backwards, and he slammed the back door in the dog's - no, the wolf's face. The drapes followed suit, and Elliot retreated further into the depths of his home. He buckled over the kitchen sink, gagging, but already the black sickness had begun to settle, and the disturbed beast curled into a tight ball within his chest and began to doze off again.
PAIRINGS AND PLOTS
Julio Anton Montez, aka 'Monty', born 1678, Spain, is a Vampire, turned in 1710 at the age of 32, after sustaining serious wounds as a soldier during the Spanish Succession. The Vampiress who discovered him dying amidst the carnage left after the battle had not long lost her lover, and Monty's striking resemblance to him tempted her to save him in hopes that Monty would remain with her. He did for a time, but shortly grew tired of her insisting he walk in the shoes of the man she had lost.
He left for America in 1832, amidst the ever-growing trickle of Spanish immigrants. In 1732 his military background saw him enlisted is a Paramilitary Agent for the Supreme Vampiric Monarchy head-quartered in New York City.
Your character has recently come to be in the possession of a beautiful gold bracelet engraved with a number of elegant ruins, and decorated with an ornate lock – perhaps it was given to her by a gypsie, maybe she inherited it. That's not for me to decide. However she acquired it, she's absolutely fallen in love with it. She spends a great deal of time admiring it, and can barely bring herself to remove it from her person. It's all she thinks about, all she dreams about.
Little does she know, the bracelet has a twin, intended to be worn by a lover. Unfortunately for her, who should find it but an unruly Vampire on the run form the Monarchy's Agents for committing a crime against the Vampire race. Immediately they two are drawn to each-other, and with Monty in hot pursuit.
Setting: Modern Era
Pairings: Julio Montez (Vampire) X Your Character
He left for America in 1832, amidst the ever-growing trickle of Spanish immigrants. In 1732 his military background saw him enlisted is a Paramilitary Agent for the Supreme Vampiric Monarchy head-quartered in New York City.
Your character has recently come to be in the possession of a beautiful gold bracelet engraved with a number of elegant ruins, and decorated with an ornate lock – perhaps it was given to her by a gypsie, maybe she inherited it. That's not for me to decide. However she acquired it, she's absolutely fallen in love with it. She spends a great deal of time admiring it, and can barely bring herself to remove it from her person. It's all she thinks about, all she dreams about.
Little does she know, the bracelet has a twin, intended to be worn by a lover. Unfortunately for her, who should find it but an unruly Vampire on the run form the Monarchy's Agents for committing a crime against the Vampire race. Immediately they two are drawn to each-other, and with Monty in hot pursuit.
Setting: Modern Era
Pairings: Julio Montez (Vampire) X Your Character
"All concerns of men go astray when they wish to cure evil with evil. I am the ultimate cure, and thus the ultimate evil."
The most common depictions of the Shadow King are that of a fearsome, armoured wraith astride an enormous black stallion, with a face so terrible that to gaze upon him invokes fear enough to kill a man where he stands. In his hands he wields a mighty sword, a weapon not of this world, said to be forged of hell fire and quenched in virgin blood.
He is the Harbinger of Death, the Punisher of Men. He knows no love, no mercy. A Demon capable of unfathomable brutality, unleashed unto the mortal plane at a time of great war and suffering to purge the lands of evil-doers, an ally in the Gods' pursuit of piece among humanity. But the minds of men are flawed, and no amount of blood spilled could dissuade them from their relentless pursuit of power and superiority over one another. Eventually their arrogance saw them turn their backs on their creators, and so, in turn, the Gods conceded that man was unworthy of their guidance, nor their aid. Henceforth, no more was Thanatos bound by their will, yet still he sought to for-fill his purpose.
Lawless and rampart, the Shadow King's armies laid siege on all humanity; legions of creatures most foul, ravenous for human flesh. Kings fell, cities burned, and empires crumbled. Rivers ran red and the earth stained black with blood. Wherever the Shadow King went, death and decay surely followed. No man could stand against his wrath.
And so it was at the behest of a young girl that Thanatos met his downfall. As the Shadow King's army slaughtered her people, the girl knelt before the offering stone to beg the Gods' mercy on her family. In return, she offered her own life. Reminded of the goodness of which humanity was still capable, the Gods accepted her sacrifice, and granted the girl's wish. But Thanatos had grown too powerful to be slewn, and so he was banished to his Kingdom in the east, bound to his throne in iron chains to await to day he is summoned forth once more.
Centuries later, Thanatos's great purge has fallen away into legend. No longer are men afraid to speak his name aloud, nor tell tales of the terrible Shadow King and his army of monsters, though to this day they prowl the lands, their numbers ever dwindling as humanity thrives, conquers, and builds cities anew, their colonies populating further and further to the east.
Locked away in his hellish domain, Thanatos's dormant powers grow ever restless. Too close humanity has crept as they strive to infect every corner of the world. Too many have his beasts fallen upon steel blades. Too bold have curious minds become, which do not heed the elder's foreboding of the eastern boarders, and that which dwells beyond.
The Shadow King's return is nigh.
Setting: Medieval, can be altered to suit a Modern Era
Pairing: Thanatos (Demon) X Your Character
The most common depictions of the Shadow King are that of a fearsome, armoured wraith astride an enormous black stallion, with a face so terrible that to gaze upon him invokes fear enough to kill a man where he stands. In his hands he wields a mighty sword, a weapon not of this world, said to be forged of hell fire and quenched in virgin blood.
He is the Harbinger of Death, the Punisher of Men. He knows no love, no mercy. A Demon capable of unfathomable brutality, unleashed unto the mortal plane at a time of great war and suffering to purge the lands of evil-doers, an ally in the Gods' pursuit of piece among humanity. But the minds of men are flawed, and no amount of blood spilled could dissuade them from their relentless pursuit of power and superiority over one another. Eventually their arrogance saw them turn their backs on their creators, and so, in turn, the Gods conceded that man was unworthy of their guidance, nor their aid. Henceforth, no more was Thanatos bound by their will, yet still he sought to for-fill his purpose.
Lawless and rampart, the Shadow King's armies laid siege on all humanity; legions of creatures most foul, ravenous for human flesh. Kings fell, cities burned, and empires crumbled. Rivers ran red and the earth stained black with blood. Wherever the Shadow King went, death and decay surely followed. No man could stand against his wrath.
And so it was at the behest of a young girl that Thanatos met his downfall. As the Shadow King's army slaughtered her people, the girl knelt before the offering stone to beg the Gods' mercy on her family. In return, she offered her own life. Reminded of the goodness of which humanity was still capable, the Gods accepted her sacrifice, and granted the girl's wish. But Thanatos had grown too powerful to be slewn, and so he was banished to his Kingdom in the east, bound to his throne in iron chains to await to day he is summoned forth once more.
Centuries later, Thanatos's great purge has fallen away into legend. No longer are men afraid to speak his name aloud, nor tell tales of the terrible Shadow King and his army of monsters, though to this day they prowl the lands, their numbers ever dwindling as humanity thrives, conquers, and builds cities anew, their colonies populating further and further to the east.
Locked away in his hellish domain, Thanatos's dormant powers grow ever restless. Too close humanity has crept as they strive to infect every corner of the world. Too many have his beasts fallen upon steel blades. Too bold have curious minds become, which do not heed the elder's foreboding of the eastern boarders, and that which dwells beyond.
The Shadow King's return is nigh.
Setting: Medieval, can be altered to suit a Modern Era
Pairing: Thanatos (Demon) X Your Character
Vastukaja 'Echo' Kavanaugh was conceived of a disreputable and unlawful union between the cogent Vampire Lord Diomedes and a pauper Dhampir harlot during early Victorian Russia. Naturally, Lord Diomedes never intended for a child to come of their copulation, and when he discovered of the impure abomination of his bloodline forming within the womb of the half-blood slave Grete, he called upon his finest assassins to rid him of his shame. They did not succeed.
Echo was born on the fourteenth of October, eighteen forty two, concealed among the people of Saaremaa, Estonia. For the first twenty six years of his life he lived under Grete's protection, before migrating South to Latvia and Belarus, then West through Poland, Germany and Belgium, before finally settling in the United Kingdom.
It was in Southampton that he met a human Noblewoman, Evelyn Rose, and in a classic Romeo and Juliet fashion the young couple fell madly in love. But fate did not favour them. The moment Evelyn came of age she was betrothed by her father to a rich Nobleman, descending of a highly respected family of Londoners. Devastated by the revelation that she was not conceded to remain with Echo she conspired to flee with him. Unbeknownst to her, however, Evelyn's grand scheme was quickly unravelled by the possessive nature of her fiancee. Engulfed by a jealous rage, the Nobleman sought out the one creature capable ending her life right under the nose of the fledgling Dhampir. Thus the night prior their seemingly flawless escape, Evelyn was slaughtered by none other than a Vampire.
Discovered for what he was, Echo fled England. Unbeknown to him, the Vampire who had killed Evelyn also served under the House of Dimoedes. It wasn't long before Echo's whereabouts was known to the cruel Russian Lord, and a few weeks later, just outside of Caen, France, Avgust Belyakov - Diomede's most faithful and most skills assassin - caught up with him.
He has been running ever since, and with every passing day his weariness grows. In his darkest hour will Echo discover his salvation, or his ultimate downfall?
Setting: Modern Era
Pairing: Echo (3/4 Vampire) x Your Character
Echo was born on the fourteenth of October, eighteen forty two, concealed among the people of Saaremaa, Estonia. For the first twenty six years of his life he lived under Grete's protection, before migrating South to Latvia and Belarus, then West through Poland, Germany and Belgium, before finally settling in the United Kingdom.
It was in Southampton that he met a human Noblewoman, Evelyn Rose, and in a classic Romeo and Juliet fashion the young couple fell madly in love. But fate did not favour them. The moment Evelyn came of age she was betrothed by her father to a rich Nobleman, descending of a highly respected family of Londoners. Devastated by the revelation that she was not conceded to remain with Echo she conspired to flee with him. Unbeknownst to her, however, Evelyn's grand scheme was quickly unravelled by the possessive nature of her fiancee. Engulfed by a jealous rage, the Nobleman sought out the one creature capable ending her life right under the nose of the fledgling Dhampir. Thus the night prior their seemingly flawless escape, Evelyn was slaughtered by none other than a Vampire.
Discovered for what he was, Echo fled England. Unbeknown to him, the Vampire who had killed Evelyn also served under the House of Dimoedes. It wasn't long before Echo's whereabouts was known to the cruel Russian Lord, and a few weeks later, just outside of Caen, France, Avgust Belyakov - Diomede's most faithful and most skills assassin - caught up with him.
He has been running ever since, and with every passing day his weariness grows. In his darkest hour will Echo discover his salvation, or his ultimate downfall?
Setting: Modern Era
Pairing: Echo (3/4 Vampire) x Your Character
An age old feud, unseen by ordinary men, is over. The Vampire race has conquered, rising from the bloodied rubble of war as the omnipotent species, while the Wolves teeter at the very brink of extinction. It seemed, at last, there would be peace... But it was not to be. In the wake of their victory the Vampires have grown bored. What is one to do, when one has all the time in the world? War was all they knew. Battle is all they crave. And they had done their job too well.
They are on the hunt again, driven by their thirst for blood, and the Wolves have more to fear than ever they have before. It is not death that peruses them, now; it is pain and suffering. It is the cages, the starvation, the hunger... and The Arena.
Robbed of his freedom, Taj Ostrowski is among the last remaining Wolves, forced to fight for his life against his own brethren, for naught but the entertainment of the enemy.
Your character is the betrothed of a wealthy Vampire aristocrat, and is a Vampiress herself. She has never concerned herself with the affairs of The Arena, but her new fiancée delights in the scene. So what happens when your character's bloodthirsty intended places a bet against Taj's Master, and wins himself a new Wolf?
Setting: Modern Era, Supernatural Underground
Pairing: Taj Ostrowski X Your Character
They are on the hunt again, driven by their thirst for blood, and the Wolves have more to fear than ever they have before. It is not death that peruses them, now; it is pain and suffering. It is the cages, the starvation, the hunger... and The Arena.
Robbed of his freedom, Taj Ostrowski is among the last remaining Wolves, forced to fight for his life against his own brethren, for naught but the entertainment of the enemy.
Your character is the betrothed of a wealthy Vampire aristocrat, and is a Vampiress herself. She has never concerned herself with the affairs of The Arena, but her new fiancée delights in the scene. So what happens when your character's bloodthirsty intended places a bet against Taj's Master, and wins himself a new Wolf?
Setting: Modern Era, Supernatural Underground
Pairing: Taj Ostrowski X Your Character
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