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[Adv.] Writer needed for specific Harry Potter plot

Hello! I'm returning from the dead and I'm tossing out another idea with the hope that there still are some Harry Potter fans left here.
I'm looking for someone that'll write well, keep things interesting, post on an average 3-4 times a week and will be happy to plot together!
Toss me your ideas and I'll toss you mine. If you want an example of my writing, I'll send you one or two.
Nothing in the written plot below is etched in stone, I'm willing to change everything to make it more appealing to you.
I'm looking for someone that will play either Granger or Malfoy in this story - I'll let my partner pick first and then I'll adapt afterwards.
Feel free to shoot me a PM or comment down below.
ORIGINALLY POSTED ON E. I want this to be off-site, meaning I want this to be conducted through e-mail preferably.

Title: Bound by Law
Genre: Modern – Fandom – Harry Potter Alternative Universe
Specific elements: Arranged marriage, romance-but-not-really-romance
Pairing: Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger
Inspiration: Basic idea comes from the fanficition “A Dowry of a Single Galleon” by Bunney on ArchiveOfOurOne, but I’ve made some tweaks and added my own ideas to it. Still, credit goes to Bunney.
Available: YES

An absurd Marriage Law has been enacted by the Ministry in order to hopefully wash away any class- and ethnic issues within the world of magic. Purebloods are being forced to choose a Muggle-born spouse and for all those concerned, they have until their 21[sup]st[/sup] birthday to find the love of their life or the Ministry will find them a suitable partner instead. All those who take a stand against the new law and ignore the responsibilities are banned from practicing magic forever.

Draco Malfoy, still deeply scared by the events from the war, is one of those few who unconsciously ignore the Ministry’s request. Six months after his 21[sup]st[/sup] birthday, a letter arrives by an unusual owl to the Malfoy manor containing the name of his spouse, a time and date for a shared meeting with her and the Ministry.

Finding himself a little less sane day in and day out within the Malfoy manor after years of isolation, he has taken a small step toward redemption. Hogwarts is yet again a savoring place for the young witches and wizards, and he has been able to bury the memories bound to the place to such degree that he has taken over Rolanda Hooach’s class of flying. He teaches the fine arts of Quidditch to first grade students, and is the main referee during any game on Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger turns 21 in the beginning of what seems like a beautiful fall, and is still without a ring on her finger. The hardship she went through with Harry and Ron still lives on after all these years, and what bond she had formed with the Weasely man in the heat of battle had crumbled abruptly and painfully a year after their victory. Unable to find love again and exhausted from trying, she allows fate to deal with her accordingly as her birthday comes and goes. Her little piece of heaven is her profession as a healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Four months after her birthday and just in time for Christmas a letter arrives with an unusual owl, carrying the specifics of her spouse and the time and date of the meeting.

As neither of them wish to abandon their life of magic and the professions that keep them a little bit more sane, they both attend the meeting and sign the approving contract made by the Ministry. All too soon – within a year’s time – they have to have married, and what follows is a long band of heated fights regarding the wedding, awkward family meetings and much more…

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Still interested? Contact me then! :-*

Rise From the Ashes

They dwarfs did not even have to be a few days old to start reeking; they already stank terribly of sweat and shit. Valerian sucked in a breath and held it before he was quick to pull out the arrow in one, smooth go. In the background, he heard Mela’s continued twittering. Had humans always been this chatty? The last time he had graced the company of a human had been more than a century ago, and the woman he had met then had been of a much more quite nature. This fair-haired lady though, seemed to be cut from a very different cloth.

Of course, any requests for his name were deliberately ignored. The third and last arrow was just by the blonde, which stopped him from going forward briefly. She may look petit and rather harmless in her elaborate clothing, but a woman would always be a woman, and he did not wish to have her little toothpick to sword slicing him up because of a carefree approach. Naturally, it was the paranoid part of his brain that did most of the irrational thinking by now. Nothing could stop the suspicion though, as he had learned that he would rather take it slow and be careful than to rush in and get hurt. Becoming wounded while on the road was always a hassle, and always a balance between life and death when treatment was so far away.

Valerian studied Mela from afar with care and reconsidered the approach for one moment until he finally made up his mind and he slowly strode toward her to retrieve the arrow. He took it without uttering a word of gratitude. Instead he decided to be generous enough to bless her with an answer to her growing magnitude of questions.

“Both, I assume.” He replied lowly, dodging the need of giving up his intended destination. As surely noticed, he wasn’t all too good with people. Whatever social skills he once had possessed were gone with the wind; leaving only an angry, paranoid traveller behind after all those years of sheer solitude.

“What about you, are you going or coming from somewhere?” He shoved back the question to her direction. Suddenly, a small object flew through the air and he was quick to catch it with surprising ease. And as he opened his clothed hand around it, the sight surprised him somewhat. A half carrot that did not look like a whole lot and it would certainly not satisfy the painful starvation, but it would keep death at bay for a little longer. The small piece of orange could be viewed as two things; either as a token for gratitude for the spectacle that had gone down, or it was currency for something else.

”Saesa omentien lle?” At the glimpse of her pointy ears, the old elven words jumped swiftly from his tongue with the strong undertone of surprise. The phrase was hard to translate to the common language, but he was basically asking if he knew her; vaguely questioning if they were of the same kind. As elves, they were far beyond their protected realm and to stumble upon a friend so far away from home was a rare occurrence. And with such a sudden and unexpected discovery, the piece of carrot and the nagging hunger was momentarily forgotten as he almost impatiently awaited a response.

Rise From the Ashes

Fury.

As Valerian gazed upon the emerald clad girl, all he became witnessed to was burning anger. Her rapid words were like a projectile, shooting at him when she really had nothing left to toss. From the high hill the archer had beheld the tiny spectacle of conflict moments before and had gotten a brief preview of her abilities, but now she was much like a wounded doe. Weakened and inferior in the current situation, leaving him to host no fear for the fair maiden and whatever skills she might possess.

Question after question bubbled unhindered from the sorceress and the elf consciously decided to not voice any kind of reply. Instead he watched and listened, while he made up his opinion regarding the bold stranger. From his rough assessment of the girl, he could tell that she was fairly young. Judging by the dirt on her clothes, he figured that she must have been alone for some time.

Finally offered the opportunity, Mithanil corrected the youngster harshly. “He would have returned for revenge.” His accent was thick in the common tongue, as the language was one he had not practiced in many years.

Retaliation was a strong drive, feeding on injustice and hatred. Perhaps the complete drain of magic had caused a severe lapse of judgement on her part, or maybe she was just plainly stupid to believe that mercy would be a suitable reward for a rapist and killer. Valerian found her incredibly dumb and naïve, but mostly rude. However, it might be a fitting set of traits considering she looked like the high and mighty that had been spoiled by the comforts of civilization.

She had an awfully lot to say after just being spared a slit throat and a dishonoured corpse. Word after word poured profusely over her lips, and each and every one aggravated him greatly. Perhaps she was deliberately trying to provoke him; pushing him for a final reaction. He was strongly inclined to send the fourth arrow on its way and silence her twittering, but he stayed his arm for now. He remained idle, arm and bow still drawn in a readied position, face decorated in a mask of stern lines. Anger hovered over him, enraptured him.

“What do you know of threats and intimidation, small lass? You are awfully far away from stitching school and the security it offers.” He mocked, not being the one to easily embrace insults. Whoever she was, he could draw the conclusion that she wasn’t the average peasant spending the days trying to survive and endure. She was misplaced, an oddity out here in the open with her fancy clothes. Whoever she was, she was most likely important to someone else. Who wouldn’t search for a distressed maiden in a extravagant court dress?

Unveiling her identity brought the archer little clarity. His interest for the human enclave was non-existing and in his years beyond the reach of the social world had left him very out-dated. To him, she was a young sorceress far from her element with nothing but a bad attitude. She acted all tough, believing that she ruled the world.

“Still your tongue, Mela Caerleon or see yourself with these men.” It was a threat, as he had grown tired of her voice. A moment later he slowly gave away to the tension of the bowstring, letting his strong arm securely retreat the string without launching the bolt. He hung the bow over his left shoulder and put the arrow down amongst the herd in the quiver, before he urged the red mare into motion. His right hand rested cautiously on the handle of his blade, staying ready to use it if needed.

Valerian continued to intentionally ignore her multitude of inquiries, as he saw no reason to brief her on either his name or true allegiance. They were all alone out here; every man and woman for themself. This act – this interception of violence – was only a mean to hopefully come over some provisions. He was straight out starving, but he would never take to cannibalism like many others around the realm. However, if he wouldn’t stumble upon any food in the coming week, he knew he had to slaughter the horse in order to survive. The product of a dead mount though, would leave him over encumbered and more than half of the meat would be in the first stages of decomposing before he had the opportunity to dry and conserve it.

The mount slowly carried him down the slope and he gazed quickly over the fallen dwarfs as he passed the first two. They wore no satchels or backpacks, and the single thing that donned their bodies were their sleek armours. A wave of disappointment rolled over him and he looked up at Mela momentarily. The young lady looked awfully thin on supplies as well. The decision to intervene had cost him time and a handful of bloody arrows, which he needed to retrieve.

“I have no quarrel with you.” Valerian began, voice easing into something less tense. “Stay out of my path and I will not harm you.” Since there was at least a dozen meter in between them, he considered it safe to touch ground. He dismounted with ease and left the red horse standing alone before he walked the few paces to the closest corpse and yanked the arrow free.

Rise From the Ashes

Ancient legends spoke of the beauty of the elves; that they were born in the mould of divine perfection and generously blessed by the Gods themselves. Like any other flawless tale though; they heaved little truth along the way as they leaped from slippery tongue to eager ear and continued around the realm through a constant repeat. Once in a while a storyteller would tweak and upgrade the spoken saga into something grander for the next man to hear, spreading more awe and fascination than the previous version.

Valerian Mithanil was a stark contrast walking further and further away from the crooked fable. Like almost any other man ever fighting upon a battlefield, the retired Sergeant had been deeply marked by the high price of battle. Sweet Lady Luck must have smiled down on him that day, as the facial injury he had fallen for had been a gruesome one. Whatever outer splendour he had possessed prior to the battle, had been lost in the swing of a sword. The damage had been made in an instant, but the healing process had taken a lot of time. It had taken years to battle the infections from the poor needlework done by an aspiring healer, and the brutal wound had after many close calls, closed itself with a red and purple hue covering his healed skin. The scaring ran deep, as pieces of his flesh had gone missing from the impact blow, leaving the surface even more uneven for the needle man to work with.

How he had succumbed to the injury where after a couple of decades utterly trivial in his opinion, as shame wished to push the memory from the face of the earth. A portion of embarrassment was the one of the leading reasons for the fact that he concealed the damaged, right side of his face using the crimson headscarf. Pulling down the worn and sun bleached fabric just enough to hide the hollow eye socket. Another product of the heavy damage, and the scaring did continue below and further down his chin. Only stopping just by the right side of his upper lip.

Suffering such a massive trauma had been the end game for Valerian, albeit many different reasons had added up to the final collapse. What allegiance the soldier once had pledged to their foolish Queen had been left on the battlefield, but it had taken him months to come to terms with his own failing morale and loyalty. Half-believing that fighting for the rebels and their light at the end of the tunnel would ignite his desire to fight for what was right, he had joined their troops on top of mount Memnon. The few months spent up there had been even harsher than before, as food was even scarcer and the rough winds froze the old keep. A third of them had starved to death on top of that mountain before the snow finally began to melt, but it was not all for naught. At least not for Valerian. He remembered the first time the spirit had whispered into his ear. Soft, low words begging to be heard; a calm plea for help he had consciously ignored in the beginning. Then one day, while digging graves for meagre skeletons, she had whispered yet again.

And this time he had listened.

She claimed to have no name this phantom of the world, but after appearing in a silhouette of fresh, powder snow for the first time, Mithanil had come to call her Yrsnö, meaning drifting snow in the old elven language.

In the great time of uncertainty that they lived in, the fair spirit had given him a purpose to continue with life. She had offered something real – something that made sense and something that he was willing to pick up arms for. Naturally, he had questioned his sanity in the beginning of their relation, but Yrsnö had been meek and persuasive, and after finishing the first quest all doubt that he possessed had been rightfully purged. Bringing back the deer from the afterlife had been evidence enough that the spirit was real and that his sanity was indeed intact.

Numbra the Deer had been the start for many wonders to behold and the Phoenix Vale had been the ultimate result of their esteemed collaboration. It had taken them close to a decade to complete the protected vale and when he had ventured from the sheltered place, it had been a young forest to be proud of. However, the Phoenix Vale was just one little dot on the map and Yrsnö was keen to have him keep going. Wishing to save the world, she once again sent out the retired Sergeant beyond the valley and onto the path for the next big thing. Having stayed at one place for so long, it was a nice change of pace to see the world beyond the mountains again. Having once been a valued scout for the Queen’s army, traveling came to him easily. However, wayfaring in enemy territory demanded some extra finesse and like any man with some sense in his head, he stayed clear of any larger roads that would lead him to civilization.

Entire landscapes had changed due to the massive deforesting that had plagued the land for many decades. Lengthy and far-stretched plains were all that was left to gaze upon. A forest sheltered one from snooping by passers, but out in the open one was completely exposed both to man and the elements. It was one of the many reasons to why he chose to take rest during the bright day and travel during the cold night, using the devouring darkness as protecting cover from any curious soul.



Having just ridden up a large hill, Valerian brought the red mare to a sudden halt when he noticed the turbulence down below on the other side. The full moons brought plenty of light to the scenery together with the twinkling stars, and he could see four shadows moving about. He studied them for quite some time and eaves dropped in on their conversation as sound moved far too easily over the open plains.

It was not curiosity that had him carefully nudge the mare back into motion, but need. He had been starving for the past few days and he would not evade from taking the role of a bandit to come over a bit of food. Barely halfway down the kind hill, he stopped the mount yet again by pulling on the dry reins. Having only a long stone throw between the source of calamity and himself, he took the bow from his back and the first arrow from the quiver. He had figured out the fighting parties, and saw no problem with evening out the odds.

The archer felt the tightening of the bowstring, the variation in the calm breeze as he gazed down the spine of the arrow. Then he slowly relaxed his fingers after watchfully taking aim, and sent the death sentence on its way. He watched as it hit the exposed area between the shoulder and the neck of one of the dwarfs. The arrowhead dove into the crude undershirt, split the even thinner skin and etched itself fully into the muscle, bone and cartilage of the dwarf’s body. The man fell immediately and became temporarily lost in the high grass.

The second arrow was sent on its way almost as quick as the first one. It hit the second dwarf right in the head, splitting his skull wide open. Despite having lost his depth perception with the loss of his right eye, years of hard practice had restored the precious ability somewhat. He would never be the same marksman with two eyes to rely on again, but he was still damn good.

With his comrades on their way to the afterlife the third, and last dwarf backed away in shock from both the girl and her fancy sword. As he glanced up on the hill, their eyes locked momentarily before a third arrow swished through the cold atmosphere. The man fell like his brothers, but the archer did not stop in his actions. Having placed a fourth arrow on the tight string, he took aim on the last living person on their minor battlefield. He had the bow drawn, ready to end her just as quickly as the others. Upon gazing down on the young lady, he saw her as an oddity. She wore no clothes fit for a traveller and looked generally out of place, which was the profound reason that kept the fourth arrow still on the string.

“State your name and why you are here.” He hissed in demand. “Speak quickly!” Anger sparked from his eye and tightened his jaw. Too little interaction with individuals of the same kind had honed down his social skills over the decade and only added to the slight sting of paranoia.

Rise From the Ashes

Name: Valerian Mithanil

[Advanced+] High-fantasy plot – looking for F!

Title: Rise from the ashes
Genre: High-fantasy
Specific elements: War, politics, spirits, different races – humans, elves, dwarfs.
Pairing: Rebel elf (male) & human princess
Inspiration: A song of Fire and Ice, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Witcher 2
Available: YES

War never changes, and never does the reasons behind it. The world has crumbled beneath the many races settled in a deteriorating world. Previously fighting over petty political disputes, the races have now turned against each other in the fight for clean water and the most fertile of farmland. A decade of bad harvests, natural disasters and barren wars, has mined the world of its generosity and resources. Entire ancient forests have been chopped away to provide warmth during the merciless winter times, and with no one to care to replant the trees, the forests and its wood have become a depleting resource that is quickly coming to an end. With the forests shrinking, the wildlife follows the same steep curve down to nothing. Larger game animals like the deer, buck and moose has all been hunt to extinction. Something as easy as fishing, has become troublesome. Over-ambitious fishing men with their boats have ventured out on dangerous sea, and only to be devoured by it. Due to the thinking tree population, those ships that are lost are truly lost as no one builds ships anymore. Rebuilding is both costly a time consuming – two things the poor folk don’t have.

Entire civilizations has fallen from grace and they are all fighting against each other for survival. The Kings and Queens of the different races are stubborn; feeding themselves with their pride and dodging any treaty that might be good. Old blood keeps them from forming any alliances and their people suffer greatly for it. Sickness, hunger and thirst haunts ever race; every individual regardless of their position on the high ladder of society. Rich families burn their fancy furniture and valued literature through the winter, which only seem to grow harsher.

Fifteen years into the misery and into the worst winter since the start, the elves rise against their fair Queen. They urge her to put aside ancient history and make peace, as they are starving to death this year. Whatever army they once had, have not fallen by the hands of the enemy, but for starvation. Those who dare to urge the royalty, are branded with the title of traitor and are quickly silenced. However, many rebels and free thinkers quickly leave the elven capital Naevys, and regroup in an old fortress on top of mount Memnon. It is a defendable point being so high above the clouds, giving them a good advantage to anyone who would dare to attack them. They gather and plot, and soon they become the largest rebel base for the elven kind, but like the rest of the world – they fight the same dilemma of starvation, thirst and sickness.

Little do they know that the castle is sheltering more than just them. A lone soul of the world whispers to the rebels among them, but only one decides to listen. He is a battle-scarred sergeant from the war, and instead of sitting around starving, he follows the voice. After some time of listening, she reveals herself as a spirit of the world. She can be anything, but at the same time nothing and with her world falling apart, so is she. In her attempt to save what is left, she has reached out for help. She wants them to bring back the forests and the animals, but is unable to do it alone. After a bit of coaxing, she convinces the elven sergeant to carry out the first of many missions. He is set with the task to collect the entire skeleton of an animal she will bring back to life.

The sergeant leaves the rebel base and climbs down from the mountains with the spirit as his guide. It takes him several months of venturing before he has finally completed the first skeleton and as promised, the spirit carefully brings the beast back to life. They name her Nambra the Deer, as she is the first animal to be resurrected. Rios the Wolf follows, together with Alluin the Serpent, Sana the Eagle, Tyarel the Fox and many more. Unlike no one else has cared for, the spirit has him plant an entire forest in a ravaged valley for the animals to reside in. Surrounded by high mountains and only accessed through a treacherous trail, the vale is left alone by the outside world.

Not far from the Phoenix Vale, as the elf have begun to call it, the human’s capital of Acre lay. It is a place of great calamity and with the common people at their breaking point – they have launched an all-out assault on the royal palace. The King and Queen send away their son – the crown prince and their daughter – for protection and there are escorted in a rush to a safe house several hundred miles from the capital. They stay there for months; trapped within the cold walls of the fortress in complete solitude from the outside world and then suddenly one day, a routine patrol of the surrounding area brings the elf to their door. Believing him to be an elven spy, they are quick to lock him in chains and put him far from the royal children.

However, having read all the books in the library and sewn as many socks as she could manage over the past months, the princess cannot help but to let the curiosity overpower her and she seeks out the elf without the consent from her brother and the general guarding them. Little does she know, it might be the most adventurous decision in her life.

And how we go from there is for us to decide!

I want you to write well, post weekly and be open to mature themes. I would prefer if you could send a writing sample as you contact me, and I’ll gladly do the same. As suggested in the title, I want someone that’ll play the princess.

[High-Casual / Advanced] Watch_Dogs

Hello!

As the title imply, I am looking for a roleplay based within the Watch_Dogs universe. I already have some minor lighthearted plots in mind, mostly focusing on the Aiden Pearce and Clara Lille pairing. However, I am willing to change the pairing to whatever might appeal to you.

I necessarily don’t need anything long-term, but I wish for a literate, mature and fairly active partner. Please PM me for further information, I shall answer all your questions.

[Advanced] Looking for a partner to medieval/fantasy plot.

Opening up this story again, currently looking.

[ADVANCED] Medieval/fantasy plot – it includes dragons!

STATUS: Looking for the perfect partner.

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Before reading this, imagine a medieval world. Yes, it will be that kind of role play. It involves dragons, many dragons and fair maidens in distress. As you read the story written below, you’ll notice that it is more of a solid foundation and that we will need to continue nurturing it with our own ideas and suggestions. I already have a couple of proposals of how the story shall take a more interesting turn and I would love to brainstorm with my partner. Anyways, if I haven't bored you with this brief intro then read on!

The Plot
Dragons are real, yet withdrawn from the world of Arundil. Few still believe their existence and a young, abandoned girl coming from nothing bets everything she has to see if there is still some truth to the ancient rumors and ventures to mount Memnon, famous for hosting a brotherhood committed to the dragons. Little is known about them though, and the road is unpaved toward the peak, but after months climbing the highest mountain in the realm she finally falls on her knees before the large gates of the sanctuary. She finds truth in the old, dying rumors and she is the first mortal in hundreds of years that have managed to make the dangerous climb. The ordeal has taken its toll on her and she slowly recuperate under the gentle care of the dragon priests, before she makes the decision to stay and become one with the sanctuary inhabitants – dragons, elves, dwarfs and humans have all gathered there in the ancient castle. For years she studies the old language of dragons and the magic surrounding them; eventually earning herself the title of priestess after a decade of hard studies. Through those ten years she has not only found her home, but her dragon. A ebony scaled, untamed beast with golden glowing veins, that she connects with on the most deep and intimate of levels. They bind their souls together, the dragon offering her immortality and is in return rewarded with the ability to take on a human form whenever desired. However, the human form is very different in appearance.

Soon they fall in love and spend a glorious five hundred years together until the priestess has finally gotten enough. Her desire for another family than the one she already has has grown to control her life and she decides to leave the sanctuary and to venture back to the world of the living. The dragon is reluctant to see her leave everything behind and cannot fully understand her natural drift of wanting a family, and they end up arguing to such a hefty degree that they part ways as foes. Their soul connection is still there and will remain until death does them apart – which is when the dragon is slayed.

The priestess leave the dragon sanctuary on top of the mountain and travels to the capital of the realm where she quickly finds the husband of her dreams and starts to live the normal life she had so desperately desired. Abandoned, yet still connected in life to his female rider the dragon takes refuge not far from the capital itself. A dragon that hasn’t been seen for centuries beyond the Memnon Mountain and the mere sight of one is enough for the people in the capital to be struck by terror. A large deployment of city guards is dispatched on the King’s personal orders and the search is ongoing for weeks as they do their thorough pursuit, combing through the ancient forests and sailing the bay around the city to find the beast.

Months pass without any kind of observation of the alleged dragon. Several farmers declare their cattle eaten by the beast, but the King dismiss any claims and blame rustlers instead to calm the people. The former dragon priestess wonders for some time if it were her dragon roaming outside the capital walls, but is determined to stay put in the life she had created for herself her. After all, she’s soon to have the baby she always wanted.

Sometime after that, in a small village north of the capital, beyond the deep bay, a girl is running for her life. Mad rebels from the East have claimed the settlement theirs in the search for resources and considers the fleeing girl to be one of many trophies. She is chased far into the deep forest by men on horseback, laughing at what they think is a fruitless attempt of escape. Mercilessly, one of the men smacks her on her back with the flat side of his sword, causing her to fall forward over what she believes is a thick log. Her loud screams and their effervescent laughter is enough to wake the beast beside, as she has tripped over the dragon’s long, spikey tail. The sound of multiple branches snapping is enough to silence the humans and as they look back they find themselves facing the sulfur smelling jaws of the dragon. Within moments they are nothing more than meat scraps scattered among the large trees and dangling in the lush canopies.

Cold, bloodied and with a broken leg the girl cannot do anything to change the outcome of what she believes is a certain death. She looks up at the enormous beast, scared and awaits the killing bite or breath of fire that would roast her alive. Instead she looks up at the dragon that slowly loses the golden glow in its obvious veins and pulverizes into fine, golden dust that the wind is meant to carry. Acting on instinct rather than thought, the grabs a handful of shimmering dust before it gets taken away by the sudden rough wind and is left for a good hour at the bloody slaughter scene. Clenching the handful of dust toward her chest, shaking like a leaf in an autumn storm she is finally found by some survivors from her village.

Her story is enough to arouse the dragon hunt again and through her recovery she thinks often about the ancient creature and the entire incident. The golden dust she had taken from the deteriorated dragon is something that she always carries with her in a small, lilac pouch. Her mother, the only survivor from the attack almost deems her daughter crazy and tries to steal the golden dust more than once to cover up the medical expenses.

Months later, winter is coming in storm steps and the young; village girl is up and walking yet again, collecting firewood for the oncoming night. She hasn’t ventured far from the mellow home and the sound of several branches snapping brings her from the trench mark of deep thoughts and as she looks up, she finds the dragon standing at the tree line, watching her.

What I want:
- Someone to play either the dragon or girl in the village, feel free to pick whoever you fancy.
- Someone that can reply at least a couple of times a week and will keep this alive and on-going since it is meant to be a long-term project.
- Someone that can give me quality over quantity. I tend to give back what I get and hell, I love long, detailed posts. Good grammar is a must, but I understand the occasional mistake.
- Someone that is not afraid of gore, violence and intimate scenes. I’d like you to be 18 years old or older.
- Someone that is fine if we place this RP over either E-mail or Google Docs. I just don’t do roleplays over PMs or IMs, sorry.

A lot of focus will be placed in the relationship between the dragon and the village girl, therefor it might not be so action filled as you’d expect in the beginning. Their relationship and the emotions that shape it will be two important aspects through the story as the characters grow. As for the dragon's appearance in human form, I have a inspirational picture right here.

If interested..
…send me a PM with the title -- The Dragon & the Village Girl – and tell me a little about yourself, attack me with any questions you might have and send me a couple of writing samples that reflects the average post. The latter objective is the most important one and I’ll of course do the same.

Cheers,
Descendro

1x1 Pairs and Plots [Casual to Advanced]

I would be interested in 'Stuck Together'.