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- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
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- Adaptable
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- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Magical, Romance, Dystopian, Religious, Post-Apocalyptic, Zombies (but the plot has to consist of more than just mindlessly murdering the undead), Steampunk
[glow=green]Overthrowing the Courts[/glow]
For thousands of years it has been this way. The Spring and Summer ruled by the Seelie Queen and her court. When her reign is up she hands over power to the Unseelie. The cycle of life and death.
The rulers are narcissists, all powerful in their own times. Always looking to expand their power-- their rule. Unfortunately, their subjects are expendable in the pursuit of added power. The trooping fae face an uncertain fate.
Since the beginning of the courts there have been members of the troop opposing their rule. A band of rogues, living outside the law. They live on the borders of Fae, whispering their ideals to whomever is willing to listen with an open mind.
The first thousand years they openly fought the rule. Lashing out at the opposing courts whenever the mood struck, and they were hunted. Hunted until half of their numbers were lost. Killed in battles where the odds were never in their favor. The smaller their community became, the smarter the rogues became.
They quieted. Silently waiting for their chance. The most opportune time to strike. At long last it is time.
The Seelie Queen plans on ruling beyond her time, even as her power wanes. The Unseelie King will be forced to act, or be seen as weak by his generals-- which is deadly in the Unseelie Court. The trooping fae clashes in the street. Chaos and turmoil rock the realm.
The time is ripe. The long forgotten rogues are gathering their strength, getting ready to strike.
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Please See The Sign Up Thread to Join
[glow=green]Basic Rules:[/glow]
No One Liners
Be Respectful to Other Characters
[glow=purple]If There are No Posts in a 24 Hour Period The Land Will Shift as Time Advances[/glow]
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The light of daybreak shone brilliantly through the canopy of branches. It was quiet out in the deep forests. Who knew how long the trees would stay this time.
A soft wind rustled Maeve's dark hair as she slung her ash bow over her left shoulder. Hunting had cleared her head, she knew it would. The impending fall showed no signs in the trees as she maneuvered through the foliage. Grinning slyly at the fist signs of the upcoming confrontations she finally made her way out of the heavy woods.
Stepping into the clearing she unloaded her kills and settled herself to the ground to clean them. She had been stocking for years, refusing to ever allow herself to be hungry-- refusing to allow her community to be hungry.
They all worked hard, pulling together when Winter's grip held the land firmly in its grasp. Food was scare then. The troop often resorted to murder when times got rough. She shook her head, grimacing at the thought of fae murdering other fae, when there was a much simpler solution.
Maeve glanced around the clearing, ensuring nobody was there to interrupt her. She loved her family of renegades dearly, but she greatly appreciated her solitude more often than not.
Absentmindedly, she began to hum as she worked. The one thing she had from her father. This single lullaby. Her mind wandered back towards the past. Before the rogues took her in. Before she could fend for herself.
Back to when she was a noble child's handmaiden, in the Seelie Palace. Maeve had once gathered the courage to speak to the queen about the problems with the troop. Back before the Queen had banished her from the court because of her mixed bloodline. The Summer bitch had laughed in her face, before having her guards drag Maeve out of the audience chamber kicking and screaming. Maeve hadn't even bothered trying to petition the Winter King, it was in his nature to encourage the natural cycle of death-- as long as it wasn't his own.
"Well," She said to herself, "Reminiscing out in the woods isn't going to feed anyone. Things will be corrected soon enough."
She rose, cleaned her skinning knife with a soft cloth, and walked on, heading home.
For thousands of years it has been this way. The Spring and Summer ruled by the Seelie Queen and her court. When her reign is up she hands over power to the Unseelie. The cycle of life and death.
The rulers are narcissists, all powerful in their own times. Always looking to expand their power-- their rule. Unfortunately, their subjects are expendable in the pursuit of added power. The trooping fae face an uncertain fate.
Since the beginning of the courts there have been members of the troop opposing their rule. A band of rogues, living outside the law. They live on the borders of Fae, whispering their ideals to whomever is willing to listen with an open mind.
The first thousand years they openly fought the rule. Lashing out at the opposing courts whenever the mood struck, and they were hunted. Hunted until half of their numbers were lost. Killed in battles where the odds were never in their favor. The smaller their community became, the smarter the rogues became.
They quieted. Silently waiting for their chance. The most opportune time to strike. At long last it is time.
The Seelie Queen plans on ruling beyond her time, even as her power wanes. The Unseelie King will be forced to act, or be seen as weak by his generals-- which is deadly in the Unseelie Court. The trooping fae clashes in the street. Chaos and turmoil rock the realm.
The time is ripe. The long forgotten rogues are gathering their strength, getting ready to strike.
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Maeve: Siren (Rogue)
Muna: Nixie (Rogue)
Ruarc: Gancanaugh (Unseelie)
Celia: Elf (Former Seelie)
Muna: Nixie (Rogue)
Ruarc: Gancanaugh (Unseelie)
Celia: Elf (Former Seelie)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please See The Sign Up Thread to Join
[glow=green]Basic Rules:[/glow]
No One Liners
Be Respectful to Other Characters
[glow=purple]If There are No Posts in a 24 Hour Period The Land Will Shift as Time Advances[/glow]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The light of daybreak shone brilliantly through the canopy of branches. It was quiet out in the deep forests. Who knew how long the trees would stay this time.
A soft wind rustled Maeve's dark hair as she slung her ash bow over her left shoulder. Hunting had cleared her head, she knew it would. The impending fall showed no signs in the trees as she maneuvered through the foliage. Grinning slyly at the fist signs of the upcoming confrontations she finally made her way out of the heavy woods.
Stepping into the clearing she unloaded her kills and settled herself to the ground to clean them. She had been stocking for years, refusing to ever allow herself to be hungry-- refusing to allow her community to be hungry.
They all worked hard, pulling together when Winter's grip held the land firmly in its grasp. Food was scare then. The troop often resorted to murder when times got rough. She shook her head, grimacing at the thought of fae murdering other fae, when there was a much simpler solution.
Maeve glanced around the clearing, ensuring nobody was there to interrupt her. She loved her family of renegades dearly, but she greatly appreciated her solitude more often than not.
Absentmindedly, she began to hum as she worked. The one thing she had from her father. This single lullaby. Her mind wandered back towards the past. Before the rogues took her in. Before she could fend for herself.
Back to when she was a noble child's handmaiden, in the Seelie Palace. Maeve had once gathered the courage to speak to the queen about the problems with the troop. Back before the Queen had banished her from the court because of her mixed bloodline. The Summer bitch had laughed in her face, before having her guards drag Maeve out of the audience chamber kicking and screaming. Maeve hadn't even bothered trying to petition the Winter King, it was in his nature to encourage the natural cycle of death-- as long as it wasn't his own.
"Well," She said to herself, "Reminiscing out in the woods isn't going to feed anyone. Things will be corrected soon enough."
She rose, cleaned her skinning knife with a soft cloth, and walked on, heading home.
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