Did you like that? My play on words right there, eh? Pretty good, heroin, heroine, like, the drug, and a female hero? Yeah, I thought it was pretty witty too.
Alright, enough with my fictional conversations! Welcome to my Interest Check, as you might of noticed, it's conveniently filed away in the 1v1 Interest Check bin, as in, I am in search of some one on one roleplays with you wonderful people! I'm Alex by the way, and as you must be anticipating, I've got a few base rules to set. I'll try to keep it short and sweet, nobody likes reading the same stuff over!
1. I like quality over quantity, if I feel like you're writing style is below what I am used to, I most likely will not enjoy the rolepaly.
2. I've no limits with much of anything, I do tend to fade to black, but if you don't want to, be my guest in describing every bodily fluid you can put a name to, just don't expect me to be so inclined. Gore, on the other hand-... I love me some grittiness.
3. This is not as much of a requirement, as it is a preference. I love antagonists, if you figure yourself a good bad guy, send me a PM, because I will eat it right up. That being said, emotionally complex characters, with detectable personalities are a million times better than some run-of-the-mill cliche, evil, mustache twirling villain.
4. I tend to play the female role, and prefer MxF pairings. But I've no issue with doubling, and tend to multi-character eitherway.
Right, so, those are my basic rules, I'm actually not a very picky person, and as some of my other partners have said, I am a 'aggressive' plotter, aggressively excited, I assure you! I like to yell out ideas, and just wild plot twists with no warning. Now, here are some Settings/Pairings I'd be interested in. There are a million others, but these few will give you an idea! I've arranged them according to time period, from the most modern I'm willing to go, to way back in ye' old history.
WWII
Eastern Europe's Monarchy
Victorian England
French Revolution
Some Got'damn Pirates
Industrial England
World Exploration
The Enlightenment
German Principalities
Renaissance Italy
Crusades
Middle-Eastern/African Civilization during Middle Ages
Dark Ages
Mutha'fuckin' Vikings
Mongolian's bein' Mongolians
Rome
Fantasy (High, Mid, Low)
Steampunk
Now, as you might of noticed, some of those aren't even settings, but you get the idea! Now onto my pairings...
Axis Soldier x Civilian
Axis Soldier x Captured Allied Nurse/Troop
Captured Axis Soldier x Allied Nurse/Troop
Axis Soldier x Refugee
Allied Soldier x Allied Nurse
Allied Soldier x Axis Nurse/troop
Czar x Czarina
Russian Serf x Russian Serf
Other Nobility shit.
Fancy Victorian Nobleman x Fancy Victorian Noblewoman
Fancy Victorian Nobleman x Shit poor Factory Worker Woman
King x Queen
King x Courtesan
Poor people with all this lushness 'round them.
Revolutionary x Monarchist
French Police Officer x Man who stole bread
Pirate x Pirate
British Captain x Pirate
I'unno, Pirate Bullshit.
Factory Worker x Factory Worker
Explorer x Native
Explorer x other explorer
Philosopher x Dumb person
Dumb Person x Philosopher
Philosopher x Wife
Fucking Prince x Prince(ss)
WARING NATIONS YO'
Werewolf x not werewolf
Dissenting Prince x Diplomat
Nobility x Serf
Lotsa' stuff
Person from farmland x City person
Painter x painter
Nobility x peasant
Nobility x Serf
Knight x Civilian
Nobleman x Soldier
Knight x Foreign Preistess
Master x Slave
King x White Diplomat
King x Queen
Prince x Princess
Lord x Lady
Knight x Damsel in Distress
Literally anything ever.
Viking raider x Unfortunate raidee
Viking man x Viking wife
Shield maidens and shit.
Genghis Khan esque x Poor Villages.
Mongolian x Other Mongolian
Gladiator x Gladiator
Russel Crowe x Me (Yummy)
Emperor x Empress
Peasant x Peasant
Elves and shit. Magic yo'
Human x Faerie
Thief x Thief
There y'go, lots...and lots...of pairings. All of them I made up on the spot, and most are pretty generic.
In case you need one, here's a writing sample, and if you're interested in role playing with me, just shoot me a PM. Even if you don't got any idea what you want to do, I'm willing to plot, and we'll have one soon enough!
Thanks for reading my interest check, lovelies, hopefully I'll see some of you soon!
Above the Southern Gate into Bal'vold, Evening.
In front of Colonel Andrew Moore stood five thousand men. Their dark eyes shined by the torch light that flickered between the masses, reflected from their armor, and projected around. Each man was silent as a corpse, and he bet many would end the night like that. Still, the Colonel took a deep breath, watching his men with a mixture of pride, and a sad realization. This was all he had left, half of his ten thousand were either in the grave, or had fled home, and quite honestly, he wished to join them. This was an impossible feat, to take the city of Bal'vold, and though his superiors told him they were winning, he did not believe it. This stubborn and wretched land was made of mud, and fought as hard against them as the dwarves. It seemed like he was forever being outflanked, forever loosing troves of men to the damned forests, and the fabled beasts of legend that apparently inhabited it. Of course, the sensible Moore knew better then to believe such nonsense, but it was quite haunting, still, and in his moments of doubt, often he'd catch himself remarking on how those glowing balls of light, obviously some sort of exotic relative to their fireflies, in some light, seemed to be surrounding a tiny body. And if you listened, it seemed like the chiming laughter of a child. But that was the talk of fools, for everyone knew there was no such thing as magic, and Fae.
"Men!" He'd begin, shaking away the thoughts of what craziness surrounded him, and deepening his voice, reassuring, and in every respect, that of a natural born leader. These were his men, and he had one final chance to lead them. The General had given him his ultimatum, the southern door into Bal'vold fell tonight, or the King would be giving them an unpleasant visit. He thought he could fear nothing more, until the messenger informed him that his family would be receiving one shortly after, and that awoke a whole knew form a terror to the man, who did not even realize he could be so fearful.
"Men!" Once more, he repeated, before his speech began, " Tonight, we take the southern gates of Bal'vold, you and I will stride into Bal'vold, and we shall secure it in the name of our brave King. As we speak, our brethren are securing the Eastern, Western, and even the Great Northern gates. And they're waiting oh-so patiently for us, to knock down these midget-savage's door, and burn this fucking city from the ground up."
A roar of approval erupted, men battered their shields together, their swords, a rumbling of bodies, a smack of steel on steel, leather on leather. They were ready to destroy this city, after many failed campaigns, they were ready to see into the great underground city of Bal'vold, and bring these dwarven shits to their knees. Raising his hand, the men quieted, and Moore gave a grin, " Many of you probably have heard that Jewelstine has fallen. In the south, those fucks are going home, while we stand here and rot, a thousand miles away from a decent bed, and our lonely wives. If we're not quick, I bet the lot of them will be keepin' our women company soon 'nough, the lucky bastards. Know what I say to that? I think it's time we go home too, I think it's 'bout time Bal'vold falls." Another roar came, louder this time, as the man drew his sword, and hopped from the raise platform. They'd shout, in joy, in rage, readying themselves for battle. It was good of them to do so, because less then a hundred meters away, the desolate cave that led to the underground city of Bal'vold stood. Hoping on a well trained horse, Moore gestured them forward, and in an unorganized and barbaric mass, they'd rush forward. It was time to meet with their brethren in the center of Bal'vold, it was time to go home.
--
Corporal Andrew Moore lay bashed and bloody on the stony ground, his horse had been shot from beneath him, and was screeching loudly to his side, the man having luckily flown far enough away to have not been crushed beneath it, but he'd been thoroughly trampled by his own men during the battle, the cave opening into a massive cavern. Intricately carved stone walls rose to the ceiling, with only tiny slits for a Dwarven archer or cannon to shoot from. One massive door rose nearly as high, of a thick and weathered wood. Lifting his head, Andrew's vision spun, and he'd feel an urge to vomit, however, he'd fight it, listening to the screams of beast and man alike, and scattered around were the dead and dying.
Had they made it at least, had they done it? He urged himself to sit up, but as he did, and looked toward those massive iron-banded doors, he saw that they were closed, and once more his vision spun, and he'd vomit down his front. Interestingly enough, as he stared down at himself, he was covered in a mixture of his own blood, and his horses. He found a few arrows poking through his thigh and stomach, and laid back miserably. He was going to die. Though, oddly enough he felt no pain, rather a soothing numbness. Every sense told him he should be screaming, but instead, in the dimness of the cavern, he reflected on his life. Most notably, he thought of how he had not struck down a single dwarf, and felt a bit of regret with that. Somewhere in the back of his mind...he knew that the gates not opening would be bad...The King-..his mind whispered, but then he felt like laughing.
What could the King do now? He was going to die-...Then horror struck him, and the man tried to sit up once more, his eyes painfully opening...and his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His family...By the Gods...
In front of Andrew, a pale face looked over him...his wife-..wasn't it? With white hair, and white eyes...No, his wife had hair of copper...and her eyes were green. This girl-...it must be his daughter then. The man smiled to her, and she smiled back, cradling him against her lap, yes..it was his daughter, she had gotten big, when he'd seen her last, she'd just been in a cradle. His mind fumbled over that, she should only be a toddler, but this girl looked older. Parts of him reminded that there was no time to be worrying about that. He'd try to raise a hand, to touch her face, cooing weakly, " Coleen..." The girl nodded, lightly pushing his hand away, and he obeyed.
"Hello Corporal...What is your name?" She'd ask cheerily, and the man puzzled. Shouldn't his daughter know her own fathers name? But he chided himself soon after, how silly, she was just a baby, how would she know his name.
After blinking up at him, and releasing a sigh, feeling comforted against her lap, and wondering why he'd sat up at all, the man answered, " Corporal Andrew Moore, dear." He'd croak out, and his daughter smiled once more, which pleased him.
Then, her eyes went dark, and this made him cringe, " Rest now, You have lost the battle." He nodded, knowing his daughter was disappointed, and when she lowered her lips to his, he'd think it to be a kiss, but then..the world went black, and he felt his body cringe, and the pain became suddenly realize, then vanish...tears coming to his body, but he was soothed once more. Her voice cooed despite her lips against his, urging him to close his eyes, to let go. He was eager to let go, feeling himself go limp, and soon, and felt nothing, saw nothing, said nothing. Of course, he did not realize he was dead, Isa had to look at the withered corpses of an old man, shrunken in his proud uniform, and covered in a mixture of his own blood and vomit. Disgusted, the Witch pushed him away, noting his name.
Zarr would not reach him in time, but there were three more idiots that did survive this pathetic attempt at taking the city. Only one door had even opened, the eastern gate was rammed opened, and the force entered the city, eager to meet with the other three, however, that did not happen. And just as quickly as the doors had opened, they closed...and two thousand men were trapped inside, without any hope of escape, within an hour, they were either taken prisoner, or killed once the dwarves ran out of place to keep them. Her master would not much like this defeat, and she supposed it was about time for her to return, and tell him. Glancing around at all the dead and dying, the witch picked a rather young man, with a gash across his belly.
If any medics were coming to retrieve the living, which they weren't, the boy may have a chance. If he was really ambition, he may even be able to crawl to safety, but Isa would reach him much sooner, at her touch, he stopped screaming, and looked startled at her, murmuring, "Mum?"
She'd nod along, sighing, and with a few minutes, she'd leave another shrunken old man on the battlefield, wrinkled and liver-spotted. His white hair clutching desperately to his head and chin, and skin hanging from his bones. That was enough for now, and within a moment, it was as if the Witch had never been there, all that was left were two impossibly old corpses.
