BingTheWing Member
menace to society
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RisingSun
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Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
Sometimes I don’t feel like writing but then I look at the rest of these forums and realize they’re dead af so I can’t be dead af either
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7 yrs ago
I am tired and very stressed - I will probably not be able to push out any replies for some time.
7 yrs ago
Will be away for three days - near to absolutely no internet. I'm afraid.
1
like
7 yrs ago
I swear to God all the icons on the page turned into emojis for a moment...
7 yrs ago
I think I’m starting to be known on the guild as the guy who expresses interest in RPs but never joins
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Most Recent Posts
Hi, it’s BingTheWing, the infamously flaky GM who never commits to the RPs he conceptualizes. I’ve chalked this up to the fact that I’m more of a writer that comes up with multiple small ideas rather than one big, detailed one, an attitude rather unsuited to the effort and dedication it takes to maintain a long-term RP. However, just because I can’t commit to these ideas doesn’t mean other writers on this site should be deprived of them. Attached herewith are a list of the RP concepts I’ve had in the past and (coming soon) new ones I will develop, free for anyone to use for their own RPs provided that: a.) I am credited as the author of the original concept, and b.) I am notified of the use of said concept, preferably through PM. In short, the free usage of these ideas, concepts, and proposals for RPs is open to anyone in the Guild who wishes to run them on their own. If you are unclear if one of your concepts falls under the “usage” of my own concept, please contact me.
TL;DR: I’m too lazy to run these RPs myself so y’all can use them if you want esketit
I respectfully ask that nobody post in this thread except me for the sake of organization. Please PM me for questions or clarifications.
TL;DR: I’m too lazy to run these RPs myself so y’all can use them if you want esketit
I respectfully ask that nobody post in this thread except me for the sake of organization. Please PM me for questions or clarifications.
In
The Treasure of the Solar Emperor - A Wuxia-Inspired RP
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
I already have a bit of a concept. My character is the bastard child of a Nameless Son, left on the doorsteps of the Reflective Pool Sanctuary at birth. Since the Sanctuary is strictly pacifist and prohibits killing for any reason (my own idea), my character grew up without the influences of his... amoral patrilineage. However, as he matured, nature struggles against nurture and he slowly begins to resent the restrictive, spartan lifestyle and worldview of his sect, which his elders attribute to the fire of his father’s blood still burning within him. Either way, the finding of the scroll is a way for my character to prove himself to the Sanctuary and, perhaps, break his own mold.
In
The Treasure of the Solar Emperor - A Wuxia-Inspired RP
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
@secondling Will you be making a character sheet?
In
The Treasure of the Solar Emperor - A Wuxia-Inspired RP
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Must all our characters belong to a faction? It seems like we would have more agency in the story if we were more of lone wolves.
House Rahaim
Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, one week ago
“This light does not… suit you, father,” Mazina Rahaim noted.
And it did not. Muhammad Rahaim’s discomfort was visible in the light shining through the glass of the balcony overlooking the circuit. The effects of the anti-UV lotion applied earlier that morning were just starting to fade. Now, in the stark sunlight, the discomfort of the aged vampire patriarch was beginning to look frightfully clear.
“I know, my jewel,” he muttered. “But we must keep up appearances for the meanti-”
He paused as the Formula One cars roared past them below, eliciting raucous celebration from the masses in the bleachers and some polite applause from the more reserved in the balcony on top.
Once the last whine of the racers had come, Muhammad turned to a smaller, bespectacled and slightly plumper man by his side wearing a plain white headscarf. By the looks of it, he had clearly enjoyed the race more than his two masters. Muhammad, stooping his six foot four frame, whispered feverishly into the smaller man’s ear.
“Khalil. Is the race over?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then inform the others we will retire to our quarters.” Muhammad made a gesture as if to go. “And tell the American we will be waiting for him back at the penthouse.”
Khalil nodded and moved to engage in conversation with the others at the balcony. Muhammad and Mazina discreetly made their exit.
“What does the Yankee want again?” he asked her once they were safe and sound in the limousine.
“He is from Washington, father.” Mazina was styling her nails, experimenting with some scarlet and gold glitter. Muhammad smiled. In a sense, she hadn’t really grown up from the young girl she was centuries ago.
Mazina continued. “He wants to talk to us on the Guerrera deal.”
“I thought the Guerrera deal was done and finished with.”
“Evidently not for him, father.” Mazina reapplied deep, ruby red lipstick. “He is… unhappy about the ‘assault’ Fariq fixed on the convoy.”
Muhammad chuckled. “Is he now?”
And he was. Standing in front of the Rahaim residence half an hour later was a diminutive American in a nondescript suit and tie, who, though flanked by an entourage of heavily-armed US Marines, was struggling to maintain his composure.
When the guards had left them, they both sat down in the residence’s spacious botanical courtyard. The flamboyant array of flora and fauna starkly contrasted with the arid desert outside.
The American, ignoring the cold cup of black coffee in front of him, adjusted his tie. “Mr. Rahaim.”
On the other side of the table, Muhammad coolly sipped from his hot cup, with a dash of blood mixed in. “Robert Brode. Aide to the Undersecretary of the US Department of Defense.”
“Flattery will not work this time, Mr. Rahaim.” Brode menacingly leant forward. Muhammad barely met his eye. “What happened to the Guerrera deal?”
“An ambush.” Muhammad put down his cup. “That your people have been generously compensated for.”
“You can’t just throw money at us and expect the matter to be closed! Thanks to that ‘ambush’, three hundred Kalashnikovs are not in the hands of the militias in Kirkuk!”
“Let us remember, Mr. Brode, that you chose to have them transported via the faster route in the first place.”
“It’s not just that!” Brode was shouting now. “Do you know what happens if they trace the guns back to us, and some mopey CNN reporter gets their hands on them? The embarrassment of the United States on the world stage! The press everywhere in my people’s business, and yours!”
“Our people have nothing to worry about.” Muhammad grinned, allowing some of his canines to slip out. “At the end of the day, Mr. Brode, we have fulfilled the terms of our deal. This matter is ended.” He stood and turned to leave.
“Don’t turn away from me, Muhammad!”
Muhammad looked back. Brode was red in the face, the same color as his tie.
“I know who you are.”
Muhammad raised an eyebrow. “And who might I be?”
“Monsters. Monsters that feed on flesh and blood, who never die and who burn in the sunlight. I know you’re not just an ordinary gun runner, Rahaim. You’re something else. And soon everyone will see you and your family for who you really are!”
Muhammad said nothing. Brode breathed in deeply, beginning to realize the gravity of what he had just said.
Muhammad, a face as unreadable as stone, turned away. “Good day, Mr. Brode.”
Once back in his personal study, he reviewed the CCTV footage of Brode’s convoy pulling out into the desert. He dialed a number.
“Khalil.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Have Dhareed kill the American, please.”
The other side was quiet, for a while. “...Are you sure, sir? That will be quite high-profile, no matter how quietly we do it.”
“Are you scared of them, Khalil?”
The other side fell silent again, this time for longer. “How would you like it to be done, sir?”
A week later, the body of Robert Brode would be found in a Boston alleyway, with a face so disfigured that it had looked like it had been crushed by someone’s bare hands - and to those in the know, it had. In Abu Dhabi, Muhammad Rahaim called out to his daughter.
“Mazina!”
“Yes, father?”
“Pack your bags.” Muhammad motioned to a butler familiar. “We are going to New York.”
“For what reason, father?”
Muhammad sighed.
“We have some explaining to do.”
Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, one week ago
“This light does not… suit you, father,” Mazina Rahaim noted.
And it did not. Muhammad Rahaim’s discomfort was visible in the light shining through the glass of the balcony overlooking the circuit. The effects of the anti-UV lotion applied earlier that morning were just starting to fade. Now, in the stark sunlight, the discomfort of the aged vampire patriarch was beginning to look frightfully clear.
“I know, my jewel,” he muttered. “But we must keep up appearances for the meanti-”
He paused as the Formula One cars roared past them below, eliciting raucous celebration from the masses in the bleachers and some polite applause from the more reserved in the balcony on top.
Once the last whine of the racers had come, Muhammad turned to a smaller, bespectacled and slightly plumper man by his side wearing a plain white headscarf. By the looks of it, he had clearly enjoyed the race more than his two masters. Muhammad, stooping his six foot four frame, whispered feverishly into the smaller man’s ear.
“Khalil. Is the race over?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then inform the others we will retire to our quarters.” Muhammad made a gesture as if to go. “And tell the American we will be waiting for him back at the penthouse.”
Khalil nodded and moved to engage in conversation with the others at the balcony. Muhammad and Mazina discreetly made their exit.
“What does the Yankee want again?” he asked her once they were safe and sound in the limousine.
“He is from Washington, father.” Mazina was styling her nails, experimenting with some scarlet and gold glitter. Muhammad smiled. In a sense, she hadn’t really grown up from the young girl she was centuries ago.
Mazina continued. “He wants to talk to us on the Guerrera deal.”
“I thought the Guerrera deal was done and finished with.”
“Evidently not for him, father.” Mazina reapplied deep, ruby red lipstick. “He is… unhappy about the ‘assault’ Fariq fixed on the convoy.”
Muhammad chuckled. “Is he now?”
And he was. Standing in front of the Rahaim residence half an hour later was a diminutive American in a nondescript suit and tie, who, though flanked by an entourage of heavily-armed US Marines, was struggling to maintain his composure.
When the guards had left them, they both sat down in the residence’s spacious botanical courtyard. The flamboyant array of flora and fauna starkly contrasted with the arid desert outside.
The American, ignoring the cold cup of black coffee in front of him, adjusted his tie. “Mr. Rahaim.”
On the other side of the table, Muhammad coolly sipped from his hot cup, with a dash of blood mixed in. “Robert Brode. Aide to the Undersecretary of the US Department of Defense.”
“Flattery will not work this time, Mr. Rahaim.” Brode menacingly leant forward. Muhammad barely met his eye. “What happened to the Guerrera deal?”
“An ambush.” Muhammad put down his cup. “That your people have been generously compensated for.”
“You can’t just throw money at us and expect the matter to be closed! Thanks to that ‘ambush’, three hundred Kalashnikovs are not in the hands of the militias in Kirkuk!”
“Let us remember, Mr. Brode, that you chose to have them transported via the faster route in the first place.”
“It’s not just that!” Brode was shouting now. “Do you know what happens if they trace the guns back to us, and some mopey CNN reporter gets their hands on them? The embarrassment of the United States on the world stage! The press everywhere in my people’s business, and yours!”
“Our people have nothing to worry about.” Muhammad grinned, allowing some of his canines to slip out. “At the end of the day, Mr. Brode, we have fulfilled the terms of our deal. This matter is ended.” He stood and turned to leave.
“Don’t turn away from me, Muhammad!”
Muhammad looked back. Brode was red in the face, the same color as his tie.
“I know who you are.”
Muhammad raised an eyebrow. “And who might I be?”
“Monsters. Monsters that feed on flesh and blood, who never die and who burn in the sunlight. I know you’re not just an ordinary gun runner, Rahaim. You’re something else. And soon everyone will see you and your family for who you really are!”
Muhammad said nothing. Brode breathed in deeply, beginning to realize the gravity of what he had just said.
Muhammad, a face as unreadable as stone, turned away. “Good day, Mr. Brode.”
Once back in his personal study, he reviewed the CCTV footage of Brode’s convoy pulling out into the desert. He dialed a number.
“Khalil.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Have Dhareed kill the American, please.”
The other side was quiet, for a while. “...Are you sure, sir? That will be quite high-profile, no matter how quietly we do it.”
“Are you scared of them, Khalil?”
The other side fell silent again, this time for longer. “How would you like it to be done, sir?”
A week later, the body of Robert Brode would be found in a Boston alleyway, with a face so disfigured that it had looked like it had been crushed by someone’s bare hands - and to those in the know, it had. In Abu Dhabi, Muhammad Rahaim called out to his daughter.
“Mazina!”
“Yes, father?”
“Pack your bags.” Muhammad motioned to a butler familiar. “We are going to New York.”
“For what reason, father?”
Muhammad sighed.
“We have some explaining to do.”
In
The Loop and the Lariat - Faction-Based Dark Urban Fantasy - Recruitment
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
@Icon57 Thanks! Just some clarifications on the lore: does the sun weaken vampires, or does it immediately burn them? Are familiars enslaved in a way or serving their masters out of their own conscience?
In
The Loop and the Lariat - Faction-Based Dark Urban Fantasy - Recruitment
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
House Rahaim
Affiliation
Lariat
Status and Role
Former regional Loop hegemon in the Middle East
Current Lariat sympathizers
Seat of Power
Cairo, Egypt
History
Originally descended from the Ptolemaic dynasty, House Rahaim has schemed and plotted their way throughout the centuries to become the ultimate vampiric power in the Middle East. In doing so, they have instigated hundreds of bloody revolutions, brokered with colonial empires, and directly and indirectly caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. They have most notably to their name a multibillion arms industry, funded since time immemorial by the perennial wars being waged around them. And more recently, as a result of the West's constant meddling in the region, House Rahaim has many close ties with other vampiric powers of former colonial powers. The most recent player that House Rahaim has begun to woo is the United States of America, using their own influence in the region as a bargaining chip with the bigwigs in Washington.
Areas of Influence
Cairo, Egypt
Tangier, Morocco
Beirut, Lebanon
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
London, UK
Istanbul, Turkey
Athens, Greece
Washington D.C., USA
Notable Characters
Muhammad Rahaim - Vampire. Patriarch of House Rahaim, b. 1503. Turned by Gail Rahaim (d. 1550) in 1535.
Shaheera Rahaim - Vampire. Matriarch of House Rahaim, b. 1510. Turned by Gail Rahaim (d. 1550) in 1535.
Fariq Rahaim - Vampire. Son of Muhammad Rahaim, b. 1530. Twins with Mazina Rahaim. Turned by Gail Rahaim (d. 1550) in 1535.
Mazina Rahaim - Vampire. Daughter of Muhammad Rahaim, b. 1530. Twins with Fariq Rahaim. Turned by Gail Rahaim (d. 1550) in 1535.
Khalil al-Saroun - Human familiar, b. 1964. Manager of House Rahaim's many business ventures across the globe. Official representative of the Rahaims to government officials.
Dhareed al-Nassif - Vampire. b. 1507, turned by Muhammad Rahaim in 1540. House Rahaim's "enforcer" persona. Has led multiple armies throughout history and personally ripped apart dispatched of many of House Rahaim's enemies.
Objectives
The emergence of the Lariat has presented an opportunity for House Rahaim to break away from the yoke of the Loop. For centuries, Rahaim has always been considered "the weak link" by the other houses, their constant interference in mortal affairs perpetually threatening to break the Shroud and expose the vampiric community. Now, House Rahaim has finally found the perfect opportunity to strike. They have the resources; now all they need are allies who share the same sentiments.
At the end of the day, House Rahaim desires what is rightfully theirs: freedom from the confines of the Shroud, and dominance over humanity.
@Mag Lev Which races can breed with each other?
Contrary to popular belief, I am, in fact, still here. However, I am absolutely swamped with work - it would make sense to consider this an indefinite (but short) hiatus.
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