I and a fellow named @Damiann47 have got a private, PM-based RP brewing up since we are dissatisfied with how quickly regular RP's die out. I've come to titling it as Cerulean Skies. It's got your average medieval adventurer thing going on, except none of us are heroes, and are merely cogs in the greater machine that is the feudal world as we know it. We originally planned it to just be between us two, but the addition of one more player invites a lot more possibilities for fun. More action, more drama, more romance and more jealousy. However, we won't accept just about anyone. Though loose, we do have standards. So, if you don't mind, we got a little aptitude test. Write a few paragraphs of narrative here, something like this:

The silence hung heavy in the air as a leaf fell from its high perch in the canopy. Illuminated by the rays of the sun through the gaps in the branches, it was guided by the soft brushes of a light, encouraging draft, and kept aloft by the breeze. The unassuming object, cut off from its parent, glided past the rough bark of ancient, towering trees, dozens and dozens of them, before, as it fell lower and lower, it found less of the wind to keep itself afloat. Nature’s breath did not breathe this much amongst the lowly brush cowering in the shadow of the venerable trees, and so it rested at the shaggy green head of a random bush. But then, against the backdrop of some random bird’s shrill song, the bush rustled lightly and shook. Encouraged to fall, a stranger came to take the place of the leaf: a little glint of the darkness that smelled faintly of blood, a hook-shaped greyness that continued to disturb the bush as it hovered by the barest of millimeters forward. With time, the object escaped the shadows of the immediate forest, and it took on the shape of a nocked arrow. And it fired. At the sudden sound, its eye shone for a quick moment in surprise, the muscles in its neck contracting to rear its head so it could look in the direction of the threat. However, the arrow severed them in the next instance, and embedded itself deeply into its rich, crimson flesh. The deer fell with a resounding thud, and the anonymous bird from before meekly halted its song. The bush rattled furiously as some of its twigs were unintentionally snapped by a smiling young man who stepped out forth into the clearing.

I know it looks and sounds pretty pretentious, this method of quality control, but this is what I can come up. So if you're interested, please plop down a post or two here and we'll get to judging.

I got nothing to say, mostly just wanted to prove that I exist and we are doing this. Feel free to express your interest, and yes a small piece is required, as what SillyGoy said, we decided this is a good way to a grasp on your writing level. So please try your best.

From the east mountains the wind howled and moaned, tall grass bending in waves under the dismal, cloudy sky. A storm was coming to a head, the very trees swaying, their branches coming together as though to pray to their god; they begged not to be blown over, to fall victim to the harsh winds that this desolate place was so named by… Bellowing Heights. Should they tumble there would normally be no man to hear, most brave enough to venture forth to this place crashing to their own demise. The bones of past travelers littered the mountains bleak side, mangled amongst the cold, unforgiving stone. He who fell here was never to be retrieved, and he who attempted the journey was never expected to return. It was in question as to how the people of the town below came to be in this place; the great rock was all that to be seen for miles, and though it protected its inhabitants from intruders, it also trapped them. Perhaps it was this isolation from the outside world that drove countless to take the trek into the Bellowing Mountains, and this curiosity of what lie beyond was always the end of them. As the rain began to pour, however, there was a man on the horizon…. A man from the outside. A man named Layton Hillel. ((Please send me a PM if you're interested, I would not be rping with this theoretical character; thought the setting would be fun to describe though.))

We'll wait for others before judging, hold on tight.

Oof, this might take a while then... I would hate for you to start an rp with me though if there was someone else who typed more to your tastes. Having them post a sample of their work will deter a lot of people, though I'm sure you already knew that. I wish the best of luck to you though, even if you don't end up choosing me.

I'll bite. Just an FYI, I wrote this one just for funzies. Feel free to say no. :D It was a bad day. The leather saddle creaked under Vixen's amble bottom. The poor pony she was ridding struggled under her weight. It's breath coming in wheezes. The pathetic beast wouldn't last much longer if she didn't give it another break. Though they could hardly afford it. Skinny Twig kept turning in his saddle craning his neck to see the road behind them. There was no one. But that just made Skinny Twiggy all that more nervous. "Stop twitching about!" Vixen snapped at her companion. "Youse making me nervous." Vixen added in a scowl that made Skinny Twiggy shrink into his saddle. "S'rry." He muttered. His mop like head bowed, not making eye contact. His wife huffed her displeasure and kicked at her pony. The overburdened creature gave a halfhearted attempt to move quicker before it just plain gave up. Vixen kicked it a few more times, but the animal refused to budge. Both husband and wife looked back over their shoulders. "There's no hope for it." She declared. "Blast the Beast into the Underworld." Vixen cried as she wiggled off it, making a large production of it. "It was no good anyways. Barely worth making glue out of." When she turned to her husband, Skinny's eyes got wide. Surely she didn't mean to join him on his pony? They both would never fit. Even if the beast could support them both. As she advanced he shied his ride away. "Now stop that you hear. Get your lanky butt off that Horse. Youse expect me to walk to Davenport?" She laughed. "Oi think not. Get'er off." She motioned. Skinny sighed and got down off the mangy creature and patted her head. "S'rry love." He murmured before his wife climbed on. The horse protested as he turned his back on it. Vixen kicked the beast and the two lurched off. "Get a move on Twiggy! Youse donna want them to catch us do youse?" Skinny sighed and followed after his wife.

greetings! are you looking for a female character or a male character to join?

We have both, you are free to create either gender.