DELETED08743

Account Deletion

Bump

Account Deletion

Hello, I would like my account deleted and subsequent data purged. Thank you.

The search continues

bump

The Quest for OC's and passionate writers.

Bump

Eternal Voyager

The beast wolfed down its prey ravenously. Veron's feral presentation and choice of words throughout their little exchange revealed much. The spider had peered beyond the cracks and glimpsed fragments of the man before her. She wasn't impressed or amused. He was an unscrupulous and lost soul, a damaged man—the remnant of a world that had surrendered itself to its lesser inclinations. She regarded him as a child, a dolt who had become drunk on power and satisfying his hedonistic wants.

What sort of king would denote the people he served as his own? What sort of fool wouldn't see the destruction of all that was as anything less than a thorough drubbing? The Araneae gathered no semblance of remorse or personal accountability. Veron appeared to be walking through a waking dream. There was a disconnect, as if the whole was fragmented and sought to reform into the despicable image of a past self. Who was Veron? He was nothing.

Veron was a man without purpose and anchor—a blighted soul damaged by madness and the wickedness of yesteryear. A man-child who fell and yet learned nothing. A rule that, instead of showing his people how they might live, demonstrated how they would fall. The miasma of egocentricity and butchery was evident. Its rank was so potent it overpowered the earthy aroma of the wilderness. But at least the rat stood as a testament and an affidavit.

He embodied the universe's imbalance and injustice. So many had perished during the collapse of what was, yet the contemptible creature somehow survived. Valerna at least respected his resolve and tenacity. If only such grit had been applied to something of substance, then the rash king would have produced something of merit. She wouldn't waste her effort tutoring this animal. She learned long ago not to wrestle with or cast pearls before swine. They enjoy the mud and will only trample such precious things into the squalid earth.

It wouldn't be long before the bloodied husk that was Veron concluded his piggish feast. The grub rose, peeking over her way with a vacant expression. The words that escaped his lips were hollow, bereft of care or awareness—yet another manifestation of his brokenness. The comment he blabbed her way was nonsensical, devoid of context, and thus deemed vapid—noise for the sake of noise. Despite this harsh perspective on the man, she'd humor him for a bit longer.

"If you mean a metaphorical mirror, yes. Unlike you, I know what I am. I don't have the luxury of self-denial. The answer remains unchanged if your question is aimed at a physical mirror. If this is meant to highlight my monstrous veneer, save your breath. It is better to be born a monster and master yourself. Then, to be a king who has yet to conquer his lesser proclivities.

Let's not stand on ceremony here. There is no need to weigh my words or mull over them, and I'm well aware that my speaking is a waste of breath. Unlike the boar, I don't fear you because I don't fear broken men. Your ego has sapped you of your strength, and hedonism has defeated you. As you are now, you're impotent and a waste of life. The unvierse elected not to eradicate you. Your sentence will be far more severe.

Bravado and valor are effective mechanisms for the uninitiated. Nonetheless, Veron, we aren't nascent souls. We have both been baptized by conflict. Yet only one of us evolved while the other remained stagnant. I derive no pride, pity, or remorse from this exchange. What I take away from it is a mirror of the man I see before me—nothing.

I hope these words start a fire in you and that flames and smoke rise. That somehow, nothing can become something. Collect what you once were instead of wafting like an errant ember soon to be extinguished. What I wish to see is a miracle." She spoke candidly, wanting to clarify her position with the man before they started this little journey. Her tone was harsh, like a mother who disapproved of her son's antics.

The search continues

bump

The Quest for OC's and passionate writers.

bump

Eternal Voyager

The forewarning wasn't necessary. Valerna was hardly a damsel in distress. She was no stranger to conflict; her eternal voyage was overgrown with it. In her youth, the thicket of despair and its prickly thorns strangled her. The spider was born in blood; her mother was cut open so that she might live during the delivery process. That baptism continued through the innumerable wars and dissents spurned by the factions she once served. Peace was fleeting; it loitered one moment and dissolved the next. If one blinked, they might miss that wink of respite.

Her account was one of strife. The giantess lived for the hunt and was purified through the continual process of proving herself. Should death somehow claim her now, she'd expire as she lived, opposing its power. Her ligaments had long since awoken, their tips aimed at the rustling of the brush. The emergence of a second disturbance within the overgrowth brought a smile to her face. How riveting. The pair found themselves becoming the hunted. She could only speculate what manner of beast stalked in pairs.

Veron's side commentary had been rightly ignored. Now wasn't the time for idle chitchat. She did not need his direction, nor did he hold any authority over her. The rat had vastly overestimated his influence over their little dynamic. Perhaps he regarded Valerna as an equal or a subordinate. If so, the potency of his delusions knew no bounds. They were not comrades; no great thread of camaraderie linked them. No, they were merely aligned presently due to circumstances. And it was a transient alliance at best.

Her twin hearts thumped wildly against her ribs. Her breathing became calm as those pupils dilated. Valerna's split tongue sketched her lips as she crouched and stood on all fours. Her spider legs rested on the soil as she exhaled. The loose dirt was carried off as those eyelids tapered ever so negligibly. Something was calming about this experience, something palliative about being so close to her roots. Her hearts drummed to a primordial and primal cadence, the tempos like that of war drums.

Where the trees stood tall and proud, a treeline thick with brush camouflaged their foes. The dense greenery formed a natural barrier, obscuring the view beyond and lending an atmosphere of mystery to the surroundings. Each leaf appeared to whisper the forest's mysteries, while the tangled undergrowth presented sanctuary to unseen creatures.

Amidst the verdant landscape, the calm lake lay nestled, its surface as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the emerald hues of the surrounding herbage. The tranquil waters sparkled in the dappled sunlight, casting dancing shadows upon the forest floor. Yet beneath the tranquil mask crept the unknown, a silent sentinel waiting to reveal its secrets.

The forest's silence was palpable, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the soft chirping of birds. Its stillness seemed to linger as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come. The air was heavy with the aroma of earth and damp vegetation, mingling with the faint bouquet of wildflowers carried on the breeze.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting spotty patterns of light and shadow upon the earth. Each beam supplied a window of wonderment, unveiling glimpses of concealed beauty amidst the thick foliage. Yet even as the daylight danced upon the forest floor, there was a sense of presage, a sensation that all was not as it seemed.

Despite the picturesque stage before them, there was an underlying suspense, a connotation of forthcoming conflict that hung everywhere. Two unknown predators lurked in the forest's depths, their presence only betrayed by the subtle indications. And as the serenity before the storm swathed the wilds, the treeline silently witnessed the impending clash.

It wasn't long before the boars walked into view. Valerna's eyes locked with one of them as they sized one another. The wild hogs were impressive in stature. Nonetheless, they were dwarfed by the Araneae. Each beast had to weigh at least a thousand pounds. Their muscular build suggested they were successful predators. They reminded her of the tusked critters of her ancestral home. However, those pigs were far bigger and hideous by comparison.

These boars were odd; they behaved differently. Rather than focus on the smaller prey, they renounced their edge. Most pack hunters ganged up on whichever prey they deemed weaker or more vulnerable. Instead, the hogs broke ranks from one another and confronted the pair on equal footing. Bewildered but not stupified, the spider kept her wits and senses about her. She wondered if more were waiting in the woods and that this was merely a distraction. Their hooves trampled the tall grass as they proceeded cautiously at first. This opening gave Valerna time to examine the beast more closely.

Her opponent towered over the undergrowth; his enormous frame bristled with muscle and sinew. His coarse and mottled fur bore the scars of numerous battles, proof of the ferocity with which he defended his territory. With gleaming tusks, his formidable weaponry protruded from his snout, honed to razor-sharp points capable of quickly riving flesh and bone. His steely gaze revealed a rudimentary instinct.

As he moved through the forest, the ground trembled beneath his weight; the earth seemed to recoil in deference to his poundage. Those hooves left imprints as his deep, guttural grunts echoed. Yet despite his homely shell, his form had a primal beauty. It embodied the untamed wilds from which he hailed. He was a creature of raw power and indomitable will, an incarnation of the untamed spirit of the wild. The board now charged headstrong into the fray.

Valerna remained muted as she counted to herself. The sprinting beast warranted no fear or disdain but respect. She was humbled that he considered her worthy game, an honor and distinction she'd reciprocate. The spider waited as his stampeding diminished the space between them. Her posterior rose as those spinal legs were bent and supported her weight. The giant's bountiful bosom dangled and swayed as she wiggled her rear from anticipation.

It had finally come, the opening to strike. It's a pity the critter had a slew of openings. Valerna used her arachnoid legs to pounce into the air. It was just enough to clear the creature by six feet or so. While she did so, one of her ligaments fired a blotch of webbing onto the soil. The unwitting boar ran into the trap as he squealed and writhed. Vainly, the hog thrust his tusk, further entangling himself within that silky filigree.

There was no escape; the swine's fate was sealed. The natural forces of the world would do all the work for Valerna. She weighed over a ton, and all that was crashing down. Gravity was as much a friend as it could be an enemy. A variable that, in this instance, aided her triumph. Her boots came down first, only for the right foot to dig into the boar's neck. Bone snapping and a terminal cry of resistance rang out across the wilds.

The distant birds flew away as silence once more returned. Valerna stood upright, her boot pushing deeper and crushing the neck. She stepped off and turned to look down at the predator. Its body twitched as its little legs kicked futilely to escape. She sighed, and her bosom rose and sank as she brought her left leg upward. The spectacle showcased her flexibility as it pointed to the heavens.

Valerna sent the leg downward in a fluid and powerful strike. The boot collided with the boar's cranium as it caved in. Blood pooled around its mashed skull as the fleshly bits were crushed and smeared by the digging of her footwear. Her spider legs combed back her auburn mane once more as the Latina giant turned her head to catch Veron gobbling the corpse. Had he foregone sustenance? How long had it been since the rat had eaten? Judging by the ferocious manner in which he consumed the prey, she'd assume it had to be a notable period.

The prehistoric hogs of her world were classified as unclean. If the meat wasn't cooked just right, one risked parasites. And here Veron was, eating them raw without care. Was it possible his gut wasn't susceptible to them? They were aliens, so maybe the differences implied they didn't exist or wouldn't affect him. Of course, it was equally likely he'd have no defense to oppose the invasion. Either way, a foolish risk given, there were methods to sidestep the potential hazard.

The spider didn't dare deny him his meal. For all Valerna knew, this could be Veron's last supper. While he feasted and gorged himself, she walked to the lake and peered out across its glass-like surface. She said nothing, opting to feel the moment instead of spoiling it with cheap words. The giant procured water yesterday and boiled it. She had had enough for a few days and now pondered, questioning the rat about whether he had any containers on him. She had collected sufficiently for herself, but two may dwindle her reserves.

Outwardly, she appeared still. Privately, Valerna regretted not bathing before playing the harp, but that's what she got for breaking her mourning routine. She shrugged indifferently before pivoting and facing the rodent. Her eyes scanned the carcass, estimating how much meat would spoil. There was no way the man's gut could hold all the gristle and muscle. How sad that so much would go to waste. But at least the fur would provide him some fiber.

The Quest for OC's and passionate writers.

Introduction and the details.

Hello, I'm Matsu. I should divulge some details about myself. I'm a roleplayer and artist. I've been rping for over two decades now. Other tidbits about myself are that I'm a female, born and raised in Afghanistan, and English is my third language. Despite this, I'm confident my ability to paint a scene and portray a character ought to suffice.

I'm seeking a fellow writer to pen a long-term story with. I don't care about your gender or any such details as I find them immaterial. Your length isn't crucial to me, as RP is collaborative and not competitive. Regarding the story itself, I like to discuss such details with my partner. I find it challenging to create a narrative that doesn't favor my creation when I don't have half the cast. (Or more.) I'll elaborate more on that later. If you wish to see my world I can send the link. Nevertheless, exploring that universe is optional and I’m more than fine delving into your setting.

What I'm looking for in a partner.

1) 18+
2) Must have a character sheet.
3) It must be an OC not tied to a fandom.
4) I only do fantasy grounded in some logic.
5) The willpower to read and commit.
6) Post time can fluctuate. Communicate with me if you need time, I’m patient.
7) At least two paragraphs from my partner. (Proper paragraphs.)

You can send your creations right away if you desire. If you elect to contact me, I'll send my character sheet then. I understand some might denote my lack of a "plot" as a negative. That's fine. I am just not fond of putting you into boxes such as but not limited to...

"You will play this race, this role, this gender. We will fall in love. these things will happen, and this is your backstory."

I fancy more fluidity and feel giving my partner more control over the OC they wish to create or use has proven immeasurably more beneficial.

Things I will not be interested in.

1) Smut (Romance isn't smut, but it must be organic.)
2) CRP without reason
3) Wish Fulfillment, self inserts, power fantasy.
4) Godmodding
5) Metagaming
6) Not playing a role.
7) Mary/Gary sues
8) Not respecting my OC’s autonomy.
9) Forcing dice/stats on me

The crux of the concepts.

Plot 1

Valerna Jorgenskull the Eternal Voyager (Mesoamerican Inspired OC)

The eternal voyager. A soul condemned to suffer an undying odyssey. She ambles across the land in search of answers. Often, she describes herself as a mercenary. She spends her time slaying monsters or aiding the crown/guards in sorting out problems. When she isn’t serving a banner, she assumes the role of a simple laborer to blend in. Valerna resides within one location till she fetches enough coin to justify traveling to another town or city.

Your OC can be anything. A noble, veteran, guard, fellow merc, traveling merchant, or performer. (To name a few.) The species/gender of your character also doesn’t matter to me. The plight can vary from a slice of life to something more adventurous or combat-focused. The beauty of her story is that it allows for an anthology setup. Your character and mine will eventually meet and get to know one another. Their meeting is just another chapter within both their sagas. It can be a one-off or mature into something long-term.

Plot 2

Florentina Jorgenskull the agent.(Mesoamerican inspired OC)

Welcome to a tale of intrigue and espionage, where danger dance with secrets, and every move is a delicate game of subterfuge. In the heart of the Verdant Dynasty lies the formidable figure of Florentina Jorgenskull. As a top operative of the House of the Red Sap, she is entrusted with the delicate task of identifying and eliminating threats to the dynasty, both domestic and foreign. Or the extraction of information through morally repugnant methods.

Your character might find themselves drawn into Florentina's path as a fellow operative, a potential ally, or even a target of her investigation. Will they navigate the perilous waters of political espionage with finesse, or will they be ensnared by a deadly game conspired by others who lurk in the shadows?

If the high-stakes espionage world differs from your style, Florentina also excels in more subtle pursuits. Perhaps your character encounters her in a more casual setting, such as a slice-of-life scenario where they cross paths in a bustling marketplace or a quiet café. Or perhaps they find themselves embroiled in a mystery that requires Florentina's keen investigative skills, unraveling the threads of deception and deceit alongside the towering giantess.

No matter your path, prepare to delve into a world where danger lurks around every corner, and trust is a rare commodity. Will our OC's learn one another's trust, or will you become another statistic? The choice is yours.

Plot 3

Tahira Quil'Kovesh, the monster slayer (Mongolian inspired OC)

The sands whisper tales of ancient monsters and unspeakable horrors that lurk in the shadows. Amidst the vast expanse of deserts and rolling dunes, Tahira Quil'Kovesh, a legendary monster slayer whose name strikes fear into the hearts of beasts and defiled alike, roams.

She is dispatched without ceremony to aid a region or is on her way to do so. Whether to rid their village of a Jinniyah that preys upon the innocent or to seek vengeance against a monstrous foe that has wrought havoc on a vital trade route, will your character leave an impression, or could they help the imitation of a lifeform unearth the question to an age-old question, what is life?

I am willing to rp on this board or discord. My discord ID is spooderqueen

All the above plots are examples; I prefer to work with my partners, so do not take these as the only options. I am open to any ideas you might have.

I will include some rp posts of mine below for you to gauge my writing style.

https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/192093-eternal-voyager/ic (Valerna Jorgenskull meeting Veron played by Die Shize.)

Florentina Jorgenskull, Discord RP with Tab

Discord Response

In truth, Florentina didn't require her parent's approval. She had set her eyes on a prize, a trophy, and nothing would prevent her from rising victorious. The diva would burn this entire patch of dirt if it meant achieving what she wanted. The centaurs were a fine people, a race led astray by false ideals. Their tribe had paid a heavy price to nurse on the teat of delusions. They adopted an ethos of peace and have been pushed to the outskirts of two worlds due to it. How pathetic.

She saw in them the potential to carry her banners—a species on the brink of extinction destined to gallop from the ashes—a stampede whose hooves would jolt the very foundations of the globe. The tribe may not realize it yet, but they were already conquered. No, not conquered, reclaimed and redeemed. Nonetheless, Florentina would keep up the façade of civility and buy her time.

Was it fair that they were given such a wretched lot? No, but who deserved what was inconsequential. Ultimately, all that mattered was who held the power. Many a fool died for their nation and principles. However, if one stood within a field of a million dead souls and asked them what difference it made, they'd be invariably greeted with the uniformed answer of none. It is a dark philosophy, but no one could refute that it is the nature of things to thrive off conflict. The centaurs had their time in the dream of a false promise. It was time for them to awaken.

Florentina gave the older pair a bow as Lyra and her trodded off. Those malachite eyes studied the gaiety brought on by such a weak lifestyle. They seemed content, happy to fade into oblivion. Lyra's overprotective aura was hardly obfuscated. That sudden puff of dominance aroused and intrigued the giant. How curious. Did the broodmare seek to lay a stake to her body? Could she genuinely weather such abuse?

The diva grinned, her mind conjuring forth a myriad of lewd imagery. Her libidinous inclinations were only kept at bay due to the others that galloped about. The other mares didn't interest her. They couldn't fathom the depravity the giantess harbored inside. Their pitiable flesh couldn't survive the ordeal of assuaging her fleshly hankerings. Lyra had tasted it, endured the vicious pounding, and yet she lived. Flora even swore she demanded more, something that only made her stand out among the sea of suitors.

The brute kept silent throughout their trek. The secluded little patch was suitable enough. Begrudgingly, Florentina heeded her command as she loitered about. Lyra prattled off at a hundred miles per hour rather excitedly. Was she nervous? Whatever the source of this rambling, she didn't care.

She dropped to the ground, her legs resting Indian-style as she waited. Lyra had promised to bring some items. She would have preferred alcohol or meat but wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. There, she abided, brooking the absence of her prize until she reemerged with a bucket and some berries. Those green eyes focused on the mare. A brow raised to communicate her confusion.

In the heart of the dense woods, Flora appreciated this isolated patch. They were heltered from the outside world by towering trees and tangled undergrowth. Amidst the subdued soundscape of nature's orchestra, one might unearth solace in the psithurism of the wind weaving through the leaves, harmonizing with the periodic chirps of covert songbirds. The air was alive with the harmonious trill of distant rivulets, their garrulous laughter reverberating softly against the moss-covered rocks.

The twin suns cast their golden rays through the verdant canopy above, dappling the forest floor with a dance of light and shadow. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the dense verdure, illuminating the emerald blades of grass that swayed in the gentle breeze. Soft soil, cool and inviting underfoot, it cradled each step with a comforting embrace as if beckoning them to linger a while longer in this natural haven.

Amidst the earthy bouquet of trees and ferns, the air was crisp and invigorating; it carried the promise of new beginnings with every breath. The skies stretched endlessly in a canvas of azure blue, speckled with wispy clouds that sailed lazily across the horizon. Yet, despite the idyllic beauty that surrounds them, the sanctuary exuded an air of mystery. Almost as if it existed in a pocket realm suspended between reality and reverie. It seems too perfect to be genuine, almost like a dream woven from the webbing of imagination and wonder.

It wasn't till Lyra accompanied her that it reached a new zenith. The acme roused an uncharacteristic smile. Florentina stretched forth her hand, gently brushing away any loose strands of Lyra's hair. She'd tuck them behind the ear before sketching those tempestuous lips once she had finished speaking. The silence continued, allowing the air between them to ionize and synergize. Harmony blossomed much like the eclectic array of wildflowers strewn across the landscape.

Those domineering eyes peered into Lyra's portals. The two were alone and had time. And while Flora would need to reply eventually, she saw little reason to squander this moment with idle chitchat. She leaned forward as her hands grabbed the mare by the chin. Forcefully, she pulled her in for a kiss, pushing that split tongue inside her mouth. That fiendish oral muscle wrestled with her own, fighting for dominance as the cradle song of the wilds continued unabated.

Feverishly, she'd make out with her catch before breaking free with an audible pop. Florentina leaned back, her palms pressing into the dirt to support her weight as she discharged a sigh of elation. Her arousal was evident, but it wasn't something she'd bring attention to or strive to remedy. Her broodmare deserved a break; there would be time for such a profane ritual later.

"I saw your jealousy. It's beyond seductive. Don't worry, they wouldn't survive an evening with me." She added, emphasizing that she was a bit too observant. Her eyes veered over to the things Lyra had brought with a huff.

"Pain is weakness leaving the body. Go ahead, I trust you. It's ok, we're alone and have time. Explore my body, pick my mind, evaluate my soul. But I should warn you. If you clean and spoil me, I may never let you go. So, go ahead, undress me, and let us enjoy and feel this moment, even in silence. Words are nice, but sometimes they can be unnecessary distractions." Flora added as her eyes studied Lyra. The giantess was curious how the pony might react to her assertive nature.

I have character sheets and world lore. The world lore isn't required, as I am fine exploring any original setting. And am open to any idea you may have as long as they can work with my creations. I have character sheets available, but I will only send them should they be asked for. Mainly because no one tends to read them due to their length (Logical.)

The search continues

bump