Searching for a single long term, casual partner

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Rainjay, Jan 3, 2016.

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    Searching for one long term partner who doesn't mind a slow posting speed, and enjoys world building and a detailed plot.

    Please only respond with serious inquiries. If things don't work out, that's fine, but please don't ask for a roleplay and never put any effort into it, or abandon it without telling me! I'm all about communication.


    I'm 17 years old and a high school senior living in the EST time zone. I'm currently taking an advanced course load (and, to be honest, am struggling with it. I didn't sign up for a couple of these classes that I'm taking) and so I'm pretty busy trying to keep up, but I want to be a published author in the future, and I think daily writing is important when it comes to practice and all that. I need to find a way to make it work! However, that's why I'm one of the few (it seems) that prefers a slow, but steady, posting speed. I might not be able to reply for a week, but that doesn't mean I'm gone!

    I'm a bit of an introvert as well, so communication is even more important. I think one x one partners should have some semblance of compatibility; it helps keep things rolling if both parties are equally interested in the plot and in keeping the story going.

    I can vary my post length; depending on the content (and how deeply entrenched I am in writer's block at the time...) I can pump out quite a bit, or I'll stick to a couple paragraphs. I try to stay above three paragraphs a post, with the exception being dialogue or action scenes that require short posts and replies.

    Here are a couple of writing samples:

    More along the lines of an introduction:

    Heather was barreling down the halls of the place she called home- which really was only a refurbished section of what was once a naval air station- as she rushed to make it to the Hole before evening began to fall. The rubber soles of her boots squeaked on the concrete floor as she ran, the only sound in utter silence. Everyone was probably working in the newly settled fields, or perhaps with guns training. If they weren't, they were waiting in line at the rations building in futile efforts to find even small scraps of food to bring home to broken families. Heather had been there yesterday and even though she had a handful of ration cards to offer, she only got a small box of what used to be canned soup, and was told to go on her way or face the consequences. She chose the former, rather than face whatever punishment would be dug up for her. It was well known in Corpus Christi what happened to those that struggled with the soldiers. That said, sometimes it was a better fate than slowly starving to death.

    A small sign that read "EXIT" was sitting crooked on the wall above the heavy metal doors that lead out of the housing block. In the dim light, Heather could see a small spider building it's web in one of it's corners, among the torn wires and dust. She skidded to a stop and slammed her shoulder against the doors, which made shrill cries as she pushed them open. She squinted in the dying day light, placing a hand over her eyes so she could see across the clearing without burning her eyes. Once she noted the path was clear, she raced across the dusty makeshift streets to the next block, and slipped into the crowd of survivors that were heading away from the rations buildings and towards the family blocks.

    At Corpus Christi, the several buildings that once were used to train new soldiers now were used to house survivors. People were split up into family blocks, meant for those with children and grandparents, and single blocks, where couples without children, or those living alone, slept. Some other buildings were converted into cafeterias, and others were bunkers and weapons storage. The open runways were used for training, and every morning young teenagers ran laps on the hard asphalt surface, sprinting through obstacle courses and wrestling on thin tarps.

    It hurt Heather's heart to see these kids fighting, fighting for their lives before they even grow up. Even she, only two years old when the infected struck, had been put into a similar training system, although she hadn't become the soldier they'd all wanted her to be. She'd passed her training, and worked as a soldier for some time before she hurt her knee, and although it managed to fully heal, she was given leave from duty to rest and recover. Ironically, that was the last thing she was doing with her free time.

    Please let him still be there. He has to still be there! Her stomach was doing flips as she pushed through the crowd and into the empty street beyond. Jorge's family lived in the block that was furthest away from the others, and the least occupied. It was too close to the Zone's borders for most to feel comfortable staying there, which provided a great opportunity. Jorge had a direct passage to the outside through the Hole in his front room, and had no qualms about protecting it, even with his two kids living in the same apartment. Heather thought him insane- but perhaps his trigger-happy insanity was better protection for the children than the patrolling soldiers ever could be. Once, an infected had managed to slip his way up through the Hole and into the apartment, but it's head was blasted into chunky bits before anybody could even open their mouths.

    However, today he was going into the Hole with them, and he wasn't going to wait for her to get there before closing up access. She'd been warned several times- Don't be late this time, Heather!- but it wasn't like she could help it. She had orders to follow, like anybody else here. It wasn't in her to disobey and draw attention to herself.

    She raced through the overgrown streets that lead to the final housing block, and pushed open the doors- even squeakier than the ones at her block- and raced down the abandoned hall to Jorge's apartment. She counted off doorways as she ran, jumping over piles of trash and broken bottles that littered the floor.

    There- there it is! The door was shut, but when she reached for the handle and turned it, it opened without a hitch. Jorge stood in the small entry way, his arms crossed, a beer sitting on the rickety slab of wood he called an end table. His shoulder leaned against the haphazard walls, which creaked as he shifted his weight. His eyebrow raised when he saw her, windblown hair and all.

    "Yer late," he said to her. His voice held a thick accent that hadn't managed to fade over twenty years of living in a quarantine zone. His heavy way of speaking had always amused her, and the corner of her lips tilted upwards in a smile.

    "I thought you would have expected less of me, Jorge. Are you going to let me in, or will I have to fight you for the privilege?" she teased, drawing the small pocket knife from her boot and tossing it in her hand.

    "Girl, you thi-"

    "Jorge! Just let the damned girl in, would you? You're too drunk to stand upright, nonetheless aim straight. Do yourself a favor and just shut up!"

    Heather smiled. Jorge's wife, Paula, had an even thicker accent than he did, and was usually twice as crabby. She loved seeing Heather around, but whenever her husband decided to use his left brains, she wrangled him back into line. The older woman- she perhaps was only forty or fifty years of age, but was already graying at the roots- came from the kitchen, wiping her hands off onto a ratty towel that she flung at Jorge before she pushed aside the bookcase that covered the Hole. She may be old, but she was also strong.

    "Thanks, Paula. Want me to take Jorge along with me?" She made the offer politely, but the woman shook her head.

    "No, he'll only disrupt everyone. Nobody needs a bumbling idiot interfering with their lives. He would probably get shot first thing." The woman sighed, grabbing Jorge's beer from the end table. He protested, lurching forward to grab it from her hands, and promptly collapsed onto the bare concrete floor.

    "I see what you mean. Good luck, Paula!" She knelt by the Hole, threw her light backpack down, and jumped into the darkness.

    It was only a few feet of a drop, but she stumbled at her landing and fumbled about for a light. Her fingers clasped around one of the many flashlights stored down here, and she flicked it on. She was standing in the remnants of a basement storage room.

    The storage rooms had been in disuse since the main entrance collapsed a decade ago, making it nearly inaccessible. Even from the Hole, there were only a few directions one could go in- one of those being simply out, through a newly made tunnel. Thus, the pathway was linear and easy to follow, apart from bits of uncleared debris laying here and there along the path. After a few minutes, she could hear voices from ahead, and could then see the faint light of candles and lanterns.

    The Fireflies.

    It was here that the quarantine zone communicated with Fireflies based at Ward Island. The Hole lead to a storage locker very close to the edge of the Zone's fences, and through tunnels the Fireflies built themselves, it lead past the edge and out towards the coast. There, you had to travel over land- or by boat, if you had one and wanted to row it across the water to the Island- to reach the Firefly base, an old university that had been secured into a Zone of it's own. The soldiers never spoke of it's existence to the survivors in base, but you could catch snippets of hushed conversation near the patrols as men and woman glanced anxiously towards the Island's position in the distance.

    The entrance to the storage room had no door or working lock, so to cover most of the light a blanket was tossed over the old door frame. Visitors knocked five times in a rhythm to signal that they were friendly, and then someone would pull aside the curtain for you. Heather knocked- five times, the way she had been taught not long ago- and the curtain was snapped aside.

    "Heather. How pleasant of you to finally join us."

    A regular post:
    Saira smiled, finding Alia's response humbling, if not a little amusing. The mare said her heart was pure. The words made her feel warm, happy. She wasn't sure what it meant for a human to be pure of heart, or if it even was a good thing, but she was proud. Was it selfish to feel so?

    She made a bow in return to the mare, glancing at Narien, whom she hadn't noticed arrive. He seems to be popping up everywhere, she thought. Maybe he was taking this mentor thing a bit too seriously. As far as she was concerned, it was her job to help him, not to lead him around and treat him like the follower he was acting like. Although it was a little strange, she admitted that if he was here to help, she had no qualms. So, she didn't say anything about it. In fact, she was too pleased to have found something to do, and someone to help, to particularly care who worked alongside her. Not all of the centaurs and mares seemed particularly friendly and welcoming to strangers. It almost made her wonder why the Order had been called at all. "We'd be happy to help," she said, following the mares to the nearest set of strange tracks as she introduced herself and Narien.

    Saira knew a lot about animal tracks, and had been learning what she could about the tracks of other beasts from the books she'd found around the stables, and at the monastery. She was a hunter, after all. There wasn't a place in the world where she felt more comfortable and in her element. But as she carefully knelt down to the tracks the mares spoke of, she was stumped. They didn't look like tracks so much as scars in the dirt, with almost a random placement except for the fact that each set of tracks seemed to have a pattern to it.

    Moving along the length of the tracks, she tilted her head up to look at Narien. "I haven't seen anything like this before. By the look on your face, I bet you haven't either." She stood up, brushing dirt off the knees of her pants. "I'd say it looks like some sort of serpent, but I don't see how the marks could simply disappear the way they do if that were the case. Maybe a beast, dragging its claws into the ground?" Stumped, it was all she could do to speculate, throwing ideas back and forth with Narien before turning to the unicorns.

    "Have you come to any conclusions yourselves?" she asked. "You say you've never seen anything like it. So this wouldn't have come from the forest?"

    Another (longer) regular post:
    Saira hardly noticed the change in effort around her. She was occupied beyond her capacity to handle. It seemed like there was always a new threat, a stronger enemy waiting at their heels that demanded her attention. Even within the first minutes of fighting the archers were attacked; their position on the rooftops helped little in defense. It was all Saira could do to try and protect the men and women beside her. She focused her attacks on the enemies below, trying to prevent any more from sneaking up by ground. Five lives had been lost already. The loss of these strangers hurt, but there wasn't any time to mourn. Their bodies were abandoned, forgotten about in the heat of battle.

    It was Aerarya who told her Merrik's plan--to erect a barrier so that they all could get some rest. Oh, rest. It felt like a million years since she had last slept. All the training in the world could not have prepared her for a full scale battle like this. The energy and strength had long since drained from her body, and she was running on adrenaline and need alone. Her mind left her body, leaving instinct and muscle memory to lead.

    Aerarya, too, was exhausted, though still moving. As long as she was moving, she was okay. She attacked where she could, unleashing silvery flames and growing less and less conservative as the combat continued. One eye was always looking towards her tamer, making sure that she was okay.

    When the time came, she pulled on the last reserves of her energy to create another whirlwind, this time without Saira's help and coaching. It was bigger then her last, maybe fueled by desperation, and by Nova's flames. It thundered down the streets, forcing their enemies to retreat or surely die. The fire, angry and relentless, was hard to control within the high speed winds, the whirlwind dissipating as it reached the forest edge. Saira pulled the archers down from the nearby roofs, bringing their fight to the ground--a loss of vantage point was easily a better choice then risking burns. All the dragons were releasing bursts of flames, and the sky filled with a thick smoke.

    Things began to slow down, and eventually, stopped. Breathing laboriously still, the silence, the lack of clanging metal and shouts and grunts, was alarming. It took several moments for Saira's mind to return, to understand that, for now, the fighting was over. The peace wouldn't last long, surely, but she sunk gratefully onto the ground, leaning her head forward into her arms.

    Sairantha, are you alright? Aerarya's words came to her, whispery and soft. Breathless. She could feel the air stirring as Aerarya dropped down from the skies beside the red head, settling onto the ground, muscles limp. She was scratched and worn, but without serious injury. There was but one gash along her flank, though it didn't seem to bother the dragonness, who simply looked it over and sniffed in disinterest. Are you hurt? Where did those blades come from?

    "I took them from one of the archers--he died." Saira replied flatly. She had recovered two blades, smaller than the ones Scythia had taught her to use, from the body of one of the archers. They lay on the bloodied grass beside her, now, their blades dirtied, the hilt beyond recognition. Her bow sat with them, lengths of the wood pockmarked from when she'd used it in defense. She was lucky the string hadn't snapped. "I needed them," she added, before Aerarya could ask.

    I believe you.

    Saira pulled her head up, looking at her companion. The drake was surprisingly calm, despite everything. Exhaustion, she guessed. It seemed to have the better of everyone.

    I know not how long this barrier will last. I don't advise sleep. But perhaps you can lay down for a short while. Find Yennefer first. You're bleeding.

    She lifted an eyebrow, lifting her aching arms to examine herself for injuries. Everything felt numb--she wouldn't feel it if she were backstabbed. Eventually she found what Aerarya referred to. A lengthy gash ran along her outer thigh, the light armor torn through. She only vaguely remembered receiving the wound. Was it when she fell from the rooftops earlier?

    Her fingers moved along it carefully. She was no medic, but she understood injuries. Blood always made things look worse than they were; if it wasn't serious, she needn't bother for help. There were others suffering from worse. She carefully drew back the armor around the gash, tilting her leg for better light. It was deep, still bleeding, the surrounded fabric and leather soaked. As she moved her leg this way and that, she began to feel a stinging pain.

    "It's fine," She wiped her hand against her shirt, grabbing her bow and hoisting herself to her feet with a groan. Her muscles were screaming, her head spinning in a way it hadn't done since they began training. Now aware of the injury, her leg began to throb, protesting carrying her weight. "Fuck. How can men go to war day in and day out like this? I will never understand it. Cheers to Hakeem."

    Go see Yennefer. Or Avren, if it pleases you more. Before long, you'll be feeling that wound. Try not to bleed out. I'd rather not lose you to a stupid death.

    "Yeah, yeah," she muttered.

    Later that night, Saira had settled down by a small campfire that one of the archers had thrown together. Her injured leg stretched out in front of her, the wound wrapped up as best as it could be. The bandage was stained red, but it seemed to have ceased bleeding for the time being. She was scared to get up; what if the exertion caused it to begin bleeding again? Surely the barrier the tamers had put up wouldn't last forever. They might be fighting through the night. She'd hunted at night, before, but that was animals, not these creatures. These things could probably melt into the darkness better than any animal.

    Saira climbed to her feet, ignoring the aches and pains and moving towards her dragon, who sat nearby. Aerarya, too, had been patched up, and her eyes were sparkling; she was ready. The short rest had given her time to recuperate. I wish I could rest that quickly.

    You'll get there.

    I wish I wouldn't. Going to war wasn't sounding as intriguing as it had before. But, it was too late to back out now, even if she wanted to. If she felt it were right.


    Both dragon and tamer turned their heads to the source of the sound, as did others around them. Through the dark, there was Merrik--what the heck is he doing?!--and Nova, running, running towards... something. It was difficult to spot in the night, it's body dark, though visibly large, with what looked like a rider atop it. It was one of those awful creatures. It had gotten through their barrier. Was it even still up? Had it fallen? She squinted her eyes, seeing further on, Shirin and Byriarti, alone and unaware as the monster approached them.

    They were already in combat before Merrik could reach them. Through the bright spurts of flame and and light, she could vaguely make out what was happening. Byriarti was in a rage. Nearby, Saira could feel Aerarya stiffen and flinch. The bright fire continued for mere moments before dying out, and before the light vanished, Byriarti's broken form was visible on the ground.

    No. No, no no. How?!

    Aerarya moved first, overwhelmed with emotion. It didn't matter that she wasn't close to him; he was still a brother. And, somewhere in the back of her mind, there was intense fear. Then Saira followed. She didn't quite understand, but she couldn't let her companion do something stupid; and letting Merrik and Nova fight that thing alone was not an option. What if the same happened to them?

    "Merrik, wait!!"


    I do have a couple things I request from you:

    - Communication! I'd like to be able to talk with my partner about things outside of the roleplay with relative ease. OOC is just as important as IC!

    - Please be able to play side characters as well as a main character or two. I primarily play female characters, but I honestly don't care what gender character you prefer. Male or female or nonbinary, whichever, it's all fine with me.

    - I don't do liberteen and I (obviously) can't do libertine. I'm alright with romance, but I don't do MxM pairings, considering I don't have a fondness for playing males.

    - Please be able to write; a lot! Big giant posts aren't always necessary, but I much prefer 3-5 well written paragraphs to a paragraph or two of summary. I have a writing sample in my roleplay resume, and I ask that all requesters have one, too.

    - You must contribute to the plot and story.


    I'm willing to take your ideas into consideration as well; but here are some of mine.

    Quick thoughts:
    - Slice of life + Mystery (Life is Strange style)
    - Beyond: Two Souls (OCs, or following canon of the game)
    - Princess + Lady Knight
    - Dragon Age (I haven't finished 2, or played Inquisition. No spoilers! I was thinking pre-Origins)

    Bigger thoughts:

    The Taskmaster (open)

    This one is fairly based on The Hunger Games, but instead of a dystopian world and a deadmatch game, it takes place in a world with two human species, and the game isn't a fight to the death.

    There are humans, and then there are the humanoid mutant species, who are much smaller in numbers, and are born with a variety of born abilities. They are commonly slaves, a human effort to teach the mutants their place and keep on the top of the food chain. These humanoid mutants very closely resemble humans but rarely have physical 'defects' (i.e. animal characteristics, such as a tail or claws, or sometimes have infantile wings, strange skin or eye colors) and their powers (they range anywhere from an ability to manipulate water to deadly skills, like poisonous skin).

    The game, the Taskmaster, was created not for entertainment, but to keep the mutants in their place. Participants are randomly selected and put into the arena, where they are given tasks over a set number of days (each season is about two months long, sometimes three). If they complete their task, they gain points. If they fail, they gain no points. Tasks vary from as simple as "Don't eat fruit for a day" or "Don't touch the ground during the daylight hours for three days" to "Wound x game player" or "Do not use a weapon for two days". Weapons and supplies are scattered about the arena--there is no Cornucopia, and players awaken in random areas of the arena instead of in a central location. Drones give the tasks to the players as well as announce deaths and record video and audio of the game proper (it is still televised). Maiming and killing is encouraged but not required. Sometimes the drawing is rigged to place particularly dangerous mutants in with the usual players to cause some extra mayhem.

    The winner (with the most points) wins their freedom from slavery. This freedom comes with a few catches. You're never truly free.

    Sword Seeker (open)

    High fantasy story.

    One of the popular fairytales told to young girls in the outskirts of the empire is that of the Sword Seekers, miraculous young women who possessed powerful weapons from the gods themselves and brought peace to the lands by wielding their weapons for good. They rid the world of evil monsters and cut down dictators and cruel kings, and worked for no one empire but for the entire land as a whole. But over time they simply vanished, their swords hidden in secret locations for the next wielders to come and claim them.

    The main characters (in this case, two) are attending an all girls academy for nobility, where commoners and nobles alike come to learn skills required of them to become high class ladies. In this world, a woman's role is heavily restricted in society. Our two protagonists each receive letters from the goddess Nane, carrying a prophecy and a map to the first swords and a warning from a danger that will destroy the world. They must quest to find both the swords of power of legend, and the girls who will wield them.

    Untitled modern fantasy (open)

    This story is modern fantasy.

    The characters are all descendants from an ancient and unspoken of society that died out hundreds of years ago. They believed in an order of gods who bestowed their power to their followers by blessing and enchanting magical pendants. When worn, those pendants give the bearer a fraction of the power of that god. The protagonists have acquired one of these pendants either by chance, or by fighting tooth and nail. But every descendant of the aforementioned and unnamed civilization can feel the draw and power of those amulets, and some seek them desperately, as it is rumored that if you can acquire all of the pendants of one type, you can harness all the power of the corresponding god. It's also rumored that if you own all of the pendants... you become a god of your own right.

    Valkyrie (open)

    Another fantasy story, taking place at a battle school. There are several classes of student, but the most prestigious of all is the Valkyrie class, restricted to female students. Any female in their third year (of six) may go through the trials to become a Valkyrie class student--in the trial, they drink a poisoned draft, and die. If a Valkyrie, the Norse ladies of myth, revive the student, they gain powers and begin their training. If they aren't revived, they die. Risky business.

    The students study for the day of Ragnarok in a world divided, although most after graduation become simple highly-elite guardswomen. However, Ragnarok has come and our characters are at the head of the battle.

    If you've made it this far, thanks for reading, and let me know below if you're interested and in what (please either provide a writing sample here, in PM, or in your RP resume!)​
    #1 Rainjay, Jan 3, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 3, 2016
  2. I'm interested in the untitled modern fantasy :)
  3. Do you have a writing sample? There isn't one on your RP resume. Your profile also says you'll be on hiatus and that you prefer a fast posting speed. I'm looking for a slower roleplay.
  4. ahh i am on hiatus here and there and a slow rp ain't a bad thing it'll just give me something to fall back on when I got some free time but I guess you're right nevermind. Thanks for taking the time to respond to me though ^^
    • Thank Thank x 1
  5. Hello! I'd love to come up with something if you're interested. PM me and I can send you some of my ideas. :)
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