Q
Quiet Dreamer
Guest
Kidnappable?: Yup.
I am Seeking: 1-on-1 RPs
Playing Habits: Usually on a daily schedule, but real life can get insane at times. I tend to let my partners know this, though.
Gender You Prefer Playing: Male
Favorite Genres: Fantasy, modern, magical, romance, fluff, spirituality, comedy, well-placed drama
Genre You DON'T Like: Angst, tragedy, total seriousness, grimdark settings devoid of any light or hope, excessive drama and pointless conflict
Playing Style: I can be both passive and aggressive.
Plot Candies: Romance, smut, snark, humor, philosophy, passion, strong female characters, badass bookworms, characters with hidden depths, adventure, mental chess, superhero/supervillian (or non-meta/supervillianness) pairings, hero vs. villian and villain vs. villain conflicts
Character Stereotypes: Silver-tongued charmers and rogues, ambitious deceivers and shameless double-crossers, snarky wiseasses with hearts of gold, gentle-natured badass bookworms, noble demons (both the trope and actual noble demons), modern-minded angels
Character No-Gos: Mary Sues (particularly the Angsty Stu and Sympathetic Sue permutations), Batman and Punisher-esque brooders
Random Notes: Not at the moment, to be honest.
Scene Sample: Here's a particular long sample from a past RP. I tend to write a paragraph or two per post as a whole, but when I'm truly inspired, well...
Iwaku Roleplays I'm In: None at the moment.
I am Seeking: 1-on-1 RPs
Playing Habits: Usually on a daily schedule, but real life can get insane at times. I tend to let my partners know this, though.
Gender You Prefer Playing: Male
Favorite Genres: Fantasy, modern, magical, romance, fluff, spirituality, comedy, well-placed drama
Genre You DON'T Like: Angst, tragedy, total seriousness, grimdark settings devoid of any light or hope, excessive drama and pointless conflict
Playing Style: I can be both passive and aggressive.
Plot Candies: Romance, smut, snark, humor, philosophy, passion, strong female characters, badass bookworms, characters with hidden depths, adventure, mental chess, superhero/supervillian (or non-meta/supervillianness) pairings, hero vs. villian and villain vs. villain conflicts
Character Stereotypes: Silver-tongued charmers and rogues, ambitious deceivers and shameless double-crossers, snarky wiseasses with hearts of gold, gentle-natured badass bookworms, noble demons (both the trope and actual noble demons), modern-minded angels
Character No-Gos: Mary Sues (particularly the Angsty Stu and Sympathetic Sue permutations), Batman and Punisher-esque brooders
Random Notes: Not at the moment, to be honest.
Scene Sample: Here's a particular long sample from a past RP. I tend to write a paragraph or two per post as a whole, but when I'm truly inspired, well...
Sure enough, a little before the golden sun hailed a pleasantly warm Spring day, the news that Adriano de Luka had been murdered spread like wildfire through the marketplaces, taverns and estates of aristocrats alike. While not liked and outright despised by many—he proved an example of the Templar hypocrisy that burned Marcello deeply—for a man of such high status and influence to be cut down in the streets like he was a common bread thief fueled the fear and paranoia of others of like rank.
Privately, Marcello thought to himself as his mouth moved in prayer, one glowing hand hovering over his chosen blades to cleanse the impossibly keen weapons, this could be no better for either him or his fellow in slaying. Adriano had made so many enemies, all of whom with so many legitimate grievances, that his true killers would likely never be found. If the investigation lasted longer than a week or two before fading into obscurity, he would be surprised. And no doubt the dead Templar's guards—a quick incantation had the group subtly radiating the scent of strong wine so they would appear drunken and derelict in their duties, thus enabling his killer to strike—were being handled as the authorities saw fit.
It was best this way, so others would not lose their coin on such low-rent thugs in knightly armor.
His morning prayers concluded, the lithe young man glanced at the medallion constantly around his neck, the apparently-dull silver truly translucent when he was alone or with his fellows. As he removed his outer clothing and soaked in a refreshing hot bath, the scent of mint surrounding him, Marcello let his mind wander further. There was that older assassin to take into consideration. No doubt he was part of that league he had heard much fearfully whispered about, the Darkstalkers or somesuch. No true guild would allow a rogue assassin such as he to roam free and steal potential work; the elder would have either been absorbed into the group or brutally executed long before Adriano as a lesson to other potential free-lancers. From the conversation he gathered from a gang of pickpockets, they were a small group of well-trained and seasoned rogues, mercenaries, assassins and soldiers of fortune, a match for any knightly organization or army in terms of discipline, order and loyalty to one's fellows. Moreover, they weren't merely some group of cutthroats with delusions of legitimacy, as all of their targets were predators of the worst sorts, men and women who treated human life and liberty like a commodity to be taken at will.
While the top members were said to be among the most skilled rogues walking the earth, it was their leader that elicited a respect bordering on awe. A being so mysterious that (s)he went by at least seven different titles, the legends surrounding the Darkstalkers' head loomed large. A literal born killer blessed by evil deities, she had slain her mother from the womb and drank not breast milk, but her dying parent's blood. He was faster than lightning and far deadlier, able to kill with merely a long stare and her vast store of weapons dipped in the blood of thousands slain by his/her hand. An entire guild of master assassins sent to kill this half-demonic being were all dead by that same sunset, its grandmaster's tongue removed so he could "no longer speak untruths or issue death to the innocent". Darkly beautiful as his succubus or incubus parent, a lethal perfection in all senses of the word who could charm people into selling their souls with merely a smirk or a gesture. A half-changeling rogue who embraced the darkness like a child would his favorite blanket and with the intimacy true lovers had, able to travels dozens of miles in a moment by moving through the shadows. A fighter and assassin so untouchable in skill and prowess that she would transcend death and become a literal God(dess) of Slayers if ever killed.
Blue eyes rolled in quiet amusement at all of that as he rose from the cooling water, drying himself. Clearly those who believed such fanciful claptrap were inspired by their cheap spirits, or allowed the desire for a good story to cloud their judgment. Heavens, this person had seven different titles and six different bloodlines depending on who was spreading the tale. Then again, considering the countless legends revolving around him—stories that were somewhat false in plot, but truthful in his prodigious talents—was he in any position to cast a cynical eye? Perhaps this person truly was everything the legends claimed…or maybe this person was a liar and a fraud seeking a swift path to immortality.
Stopping as his hand gripped the door handle, the smile hardened minutely as he breathed in the air. While hardly appropriately dressed and not particularly seeking to fight so early in the morning, Marcello casually opened the door, a feigned look of shock on his face.
"If you and your friends want to speak with me, I request a moment to put on pants. Then we can chat."
Privately, Marcello thought to himself as his mouth moved in prayer, one glowing hand hovering over his chosen blades to cleanse the impossibly keen weapons, this could be no better for either him or his fellow in slaying. Adriano had made so many enemies, all of whom with so many legitimate grievances, that his true killers would likely never be found. If the investigation lasted longer than a week or two before fading into obscurity, he would be surprised. And no doubt the dead Templar's guards—a quick incantation had the group subtly radiating the scent of strong wine so they would appear drunken and derelict in their duties, thus enabling his killer to strike—were being handled as the authorities saw fit.
It was best this way, so others would not lose their coin on such low-rent thugs in knightly armor.
His morning prayers concluded, the lithe young man glanced at the medallion constantly around his neck, the apparently-dull silver truly translucent when he was alone or with his fellows. As he removed his outer clothing and soaked in a refreshing hot bath, the scent of mint surrounding him, Marcello let his mind wander further. There was that older assassin to take into consideration. No doubt he was part of that league he had heard much fearfully whispered about, the Darkstalkers or somesuch. No true guild would allow a rogue assassin such as he to roam free and steal potential work; the elder would have either been absorbed into the group or brutally executed long before Adriano as a lesson to other potential free-lancers. From the conversation he gathered from a gang of pickpockets, they were a small group of well-trained and seasoned rogues, mercenaries, assassins and soldiers of fortune, a match for any knightly organization or army in terms of discipline, order and loyalty to one's fellows. Moreover, they weren't merely some group of cutthroats with delusions of legitimacy, as all of their targets were predators of the worst sorts, men and women who treated human life and liberty like a commodity to be taken at will.
While the top members were said to be among the most skilled rogues walking the earth, it was their leader that elicited a respect bordering on awe. A being so mysterious that (s)he went by at least seven different titles, the legends surrounding the Darkstalkers' head loomed large. A literal born killer blessed by evil deities, she had slain her mother from the womb and drank not breast milk, but her dying parent's blood. He was faster than lightning and far deadlier, able to kill with merely a long stare and her vast store of weapons dipped in the blood of thousands slain by his/her hand. An entire guild of master assassins sent to kill this half-demonic being were all dead by that same sunset, its grandmaster's tongue removed so he could "no longer speak untruths or issue death to the innocent". Darkly beautiful as his succubus or incubus parent, a lethal perfection in all senses of the word who could charm people into selling their souls with merely a smirk or a gesture. A half-changeling rogue who embraced the darkness like a child would his favorite blanket and with the intimacy true lovers had, able to travels dozens of miles in a moment by moving through the shadows. A fighter and assassin so untouchable in skill and prowess that she would transcend death and become a literal God(dess) of Slayers if ever killed.
Blue eyes rolled in quiet amusement at all of that as he rose from the cooling water, drying himself. Clearly those who believed such fanciful claptrap were inspired by their cheap spirits, or allowed the desire for a good story to cloud their judgment. Heavens, this person had seven different titles and six different bloodlines depending on who was spreading the tale. Then again, considering the countless legends revolving around him—stories that were somewhat false in plot, but truthful in his prodigious talents—was he in any position to cast a cynical eye? Perhaps this person truly was everything the legends claimed…or maybe this person was a liar and a fraud seeking a swift path to immortality.
Stopping as his hand gripped the door handle, the smile hardened minutely as he breathed in the air. While hardly appropriately dressed and not particularly seeking to fight so early in the morning, Marcello casually opened the door, a feigned look of shock on his face.
"If you and your friends want to speak with me, I request a moment to put on pants. Then we can chat."
Iwaku Roleplays I'm In: None at the moment.