LouLou

𝔄𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔚𝔞𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔰 (𝔜𝔢 𝔒𝔩𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡)

@LouLou
WHAT DID SHE DO IN CILANDRIA

@False Prophet

Started with a hasty wager, a canon, and too many drinks; ended with half a harbor catching fire.

𝔄𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔚𝔞𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔰 (𝔜𝔢 𝔒𝔩𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡)

Seven pages and not even an IC yet. Enthusiasm is good sign, also loving all the trivia about characters so...

nonsense

A reluctant quartermaster being the closest Calliope had to a tutor for ten years has left her functionally illiterate. She can read with a great deal of time and effort, but is unable to write anything more than her own name. Surprisingly however, she has a strong affinity for numerical concepts and is capable of doing complex mental arithmetic even though she can't write the expressions.

Despite her love for glittery and expensive things, Calli's typical dress is otherwise chosen purely for practicality: Plain loose clothing that allows for easy movement, and androgynous enough that she has passed for a boy on multiple occasions.

She will proudly boast never having lost a hand of cards in her life. Less admittedly, she's never had an honest game of cards in her life.

Her cockatoo, Leo, is a faithful companion that can follow a handful of commands based upon various bird-calls Calliope has endlessly rehearsed. He himself is also an excellent vocalist, and while not always seen, can almost always be heard mimicking new noises he enjoys.

Technically, she is still a wanted criminal in Cilandria.

𝔄𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔚𝔞𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔰 (𝔜𝔢 𝔒𝔩𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡)

Don't mind me; just going show up and throw a sheet in right before deadlines.

Particular Cravings

Hello all, I’m Lou; an experienced roleplayer always on the lookout for new writing partners. This is where I’ll be keeping specific plot ideas to be updated sporadically.

What partners can expect from me:

- Thought out casual/advanced level replies meant to drive the story forward varying from 1-8 paragraphs depending on what is called for at the moment.
- 18+ story beats, up to and including smut, violence, and other mature themes
- Replies at a minimum once a week, and notification if it will take longer
- Annoyingly-persistent communication; you’ll ask me to stop, it won’t help.

What I am looking for:

- A 20+ y/o partner
- Enthusiasm
- Communication via PM

Fun bits:

Town on the Steppe

Less of a plot and more of a DM/Player game. Specifically looking for a character of whatever gender who finds themselves stranded in a fictional village named Loijek, located in present day southern Ukraine sometime during the 1980/90s. Their reason for being there is entirely up to you, but Loijek is a town unlike any other. Untouched by time, the steam train that arrives once a month is the most modern thing in a town where even running water is a rarity. Old pagan magic still thrives here, far from any modern religion. Your character and whatever companions they choose must uncover layers of curses and mysteries surrounding this place and its people.

Dune

Probably a bit of a reach but honestly I would go to frighteningly extreme lengths to find someone willing to join me for a Duncan Idaho/Alia Atreides roleplay. Preferably involving a ghola Alia post Children of Dune, gifted to a 2nd or 3rd gen ghola Ducan who has to decide whether to risk re-awakening her memories or learn how to even do so. What with prescience, mentats, and the like, this one is going to require a lot of out of character planning, so be warned that it won’t be a quick start.

I am also always happy to hear other’s plots and ideas, so feel free to reach out with your own proposals, or any of mine via PM.

Light Grows Less (F for M//F)

Bump.

Light Grows Less (F for M//F)

---

To the point:

I am looking for a character of either gender to play in a custom world, and custom setting that has plenty of room for further development. Ideally, a partner would be open to col-labing as far as world building and plot-development, but if they prefer to simply react to my own world and events that is acceptable, so long as there is an effort made to progress the story.

The story being in the capital city of Mirad; Derkios. Your character, by a series of poor choices or plain bad luck, has found themselves in the slave-fighting pits; a city-run program meant to both deal with over-flowing prisons and draw coin from the many travelers in the city with a modest admission and large gambling fees. My character is a cleric of Inos, raised by the Temple of Resolution, a place of both healing and protection. One of the clerics jobs in the city is to tend to the wounded favourites of the fighting pits; so that they may re-enter the ring all the more rapidly. This is how our charters will meet.

There are obviously more details to both the plot and the world, but I'm reluctant to place too much in an interest check, in-case my partner has more ideas to incorporate. But some general notes I won't be changing:

-Magic exists, but is not innate in any individual. It can be obtained one of two ways; bestowed upon by a god/religious order, or through decades or rigorous and devout study (though this is largely frowned upon).
- I am open to having a multitude of races inhabit this world, but I would prefer they all be mostly humanoid.
- This is a ancient fantasy setting, with some inspiration drawn from Roman, Greek, and Kievan history. ie: no technology of any form, up-to and including steam or combustion power.

Finally, if you're somehow still interested I have the obligatory 'request of etiquette' section.

i) Write what fits. This is marked as casual; I'm not going to word count my posts or yours. If it's a solo scene, it may be longer, if our characters are having a conversation, I'd rather move things along quickly with only a few lines than have paragraphs of needless description while a character is simply responding 'yes' to a question.
ii) Write when you can. I'm not going to chase you down for a reply, if over a week goes by I might ping you for a reminder, but no more than that. I understand roleplaying is low on the list of priorities and sometimes it's easier to just ghost out, even if it isn't ideal. Basically I'm not going to hold you to a ridged schedule.
iii) Be over 18
iv) PM me if interested. I won't respond to any posts made here.

The Hunters and the Hunted - Open for Applications

Neff

Neff towers over the average Belvoirian at 6'6

Age: 27-29, or thereabouts

Occupation: Mercenary

Weapon of choice: Longspear

Armor of choice: An awkward mix of leather, furs, and cloth. Its is a great deal less than one would expect for a front-line fighter.

Strengths:

Athletic: Neff isn't just strong, with her spear she is able to maneuver herself in ways many would deem impossible for her size.
Versatile: Spears are prone to snapping, especially when use with Neff's combat style. She nearly as capable in unarmed combat as armed. In addition, she is able to throw her spear from a distance with reasonable accuracy.
Bloodlust: Neff's body has seen more than its fair share of fights, most fought in the harsh deserts of Yasib, with little to no armor. She's fights every battle as though it was her last, and much anything short of a fatal blow will only fuel her determination.
Practiced: Neff has fought both beasts and men innumerable times, and knows how to read a fight. Little catches her off-guard, and she is more often than not able to perceive her opponent's upcoming attack and reacts intuitively.

Weaknesses:

Uneducated: Even in her home, Neff revcieved no education outside of physical training. Her grasp of Belvoir's common language is adequate at best, and she lacks literacy in any language.
Outsider: A thick accent, stand-offish demeanor, and shocking appearance means Neff will never blend in with the crowd, or be readily trusted by most people.
Primitive: Tribal life is very different than that in the city. Any horse Neff had ever seen before was used for battle and she often gets nervous and agitated in large crowds. She distrusts and advanced medicine or technology completely.
Brash: Neff is unapologetic and too-often unthinking in her words and actions. She never allows herself to hesitate and will choose whatever option seems best at the moment without considering consequences.

Personality:

Neff cares for little outside of drinking and fighting. It is the combination of her eagerness to fight and indifference to wealth that has left her with a reputation of a kind mercenary who takes pity on the poor. In truth she cares about as much for the people of Belvoir as they do for her. She is an outsider and mistrusted is most any town she lingers in for too long. When she does talk, it is blunt and to the point, wasting no time on trivial things such as manners or full sentences. Words are for liars and worshipers; Neff is neither, and prefers action to speaking and planning. These outward appearances often lead many to think her dull of mind and try to cheat her. And while having never learned more than the most basic arithmetic, she is usually keen enough to know when she's being had and does not react kindly. Her true intelligence only shows in the throws of a battle. She has spent most of her life fighting, men and beast alike, and it is a second nature. Little goes unnoticed by her in a fight and little can surprise her, leading her to be reflexive and unfaltering in her fighting. As far as she's concerned, its the only wits worth having.

History:

The deserts of Yasib lay south and west of Belvoir and is as little more than a barren wasteland by outsiders. The lone city of Brizna located in the easternmost reaches of the nation and supplies silks and spices to the surrounding lands and little else. It is also one of the few remaining places that holds no laws on slavery.

Traditionally, it is the Laveh, those who originated from the northernmost tribes, and their descendants who are the most acceptable slaves, alongside criminals. Neff never bothered learning which her ancestors were, a slave is a slave and there was little more to it. The bulk of her childhood was spent working in a spice mill to the north of Brizna. Farmers would bring their produces and Neff and her kin would spend their days drying and grinding turmeric, cinnamon, and coriander to easily transportable powders. The work was hard for a child, and punishments harsh, but it was the only way of life Neff and everyone around her knew, and so she was blind to her own hardships.

When Neff was just barely reaching the cusp of maturity, a good age to be resold as a house slave rather than labourer, raiders attacked the mill. Or at least that is what Neff assumed them to be for a long time. They stole barrels of spice, burned her home to the ground, and kidnapped her and a handful of her kin. Later it was explained that the raiders considered themselves the last of the Laveh, a free tribe roaming the wastes between Brizna and Belvoir. Freedom didn't feel terribly different for Neff, while rests were more frequent the labour required in tribal life was more than that in the mill, and the older slaves taken with her did not survive past the first year. But Neff was young and adaptable. She grew strong and tall, and was trained how to fight, hunt, and most importantly survive in the desert. They were outlaws, and whenever too close to the city they were attacked, by bandits or soldiers who considered them to be such. The threat of an attack was nearly constant, and Neff grew to love it.

For 15 years, Neff raided and fought alongside the tribe. But the more they raided and added freed slaves to their ranks, the slower they moved and the more they were sought out by mercenaries and roaming slavers. They were pushed further and further north, through to the mountains reaching into Belvoir. Traversing the mountains alone killed over half the tribe. With no resources and in a foreign land, what remained of the tribe was divided half wanting to return to the desert the others not wanting to lose more to the perilous mountains. The others, like Neff, left to find their own way. She traveled north alone until she reached Estramoz, and where she came across a people short and pale, who did not speak or dress the way she did. They feared her at first, so she spent her first year in Belvoir traveling between Estramoz and Shrewsbury earning slightly more favour for dealing with pests such as wolves and bears for the farms and villages between the two towns. As she learned how to communicate, her opportunities widened and she has recently arrived in Rothenburg for the first time after guarding a merchant's caravan from the west.

Time Enough

Olivia didn’t pine. Of course, before it had be she neglecting to reply to friend’s emails from California. Even so it was hardly in her nature worry much as to what others thought of her, and certainly not in her routine to get distracted over a man.

“Narrows? The bloodwork?” Oliva blinked, horrified at herself and quickly tried to make sense of the data rolling across her screen.

“Right, everything looks normal. Slightly anemic maybe.”
“Four people didn’t hemorrhage from their diets.” No that would have been the faulty implants he’d helped develop. Some thoughts where better kept quiet, instead of speaking she looked up to the dead body lying four feet away. The skull had been surgically opened on the right side and some obviously decaying brain was spilling onto the table. Doctor Layne still held a bone saw, frown telling that his mask wasn’t doing much for the smell either.

“Did you get it out yet?” The doctor held up a small metallic device about the same size as a thumb in his other gloved hand.
“Power piece still in his spine, but I figured you want to take a look at this first.” He took a step closer, apparently expecting her to pick up the tech which still had bit of brain clinging to it. She did her best not to wrinkle her nose at the idea and instead offered a petri dish for it to be dropped in. The dish was in turn dropped with haste to the counter, Layne pretended not to notice, but even with a mask the corners of his eyes showed signs of a smirk. “It’s getting late, I’ll get the other piece out and you can get a fresh look at them tomorrow.” Olivia alright tapped out of the computer system and was on her way out of the lab. Normally she would be the first to volunteer staying late, normally there weren’t two month dead corpses being dissected. The doctor who couldn't deal with the dead, or the sick she'd found while visiting the residency hospital. It was just something she’d have to get over, preferably before she got into residencies.

Half an hour of washing hands and tending to her lab-coat later, and Olivia allowed herself to reach into her pocket for her phone. No calls, no messages. It wasn’t a surprise, but that didn’t much help the sting. Everything had been going too well for it to be personal, but there was little other way to take the sudden silence. She decidedly turned her thoughts away from Duncan and placed the phone in her pocket, considering possible side effects of neural implants. It lasted until the exited the front door and the buzzing against her tigh evaporated thoughts of work.
Not Duncan. His mother. Enough, she dismissed the call and muted the phone, and continued the walk to her car with a quicker pace. She knew where his lab was, but it wasn’t something she’d planned to visit, especially uninvited. Duncan’s work absorbed him completely but left her grasping, it was his own interest in it which she appreciated more than the material itself. But receiving three calls from his mother in the same time he’d apparently forgotten about her was too much. She punched the address into the GPS system, sanitized her hands then the steering wheel, and pulled out of the parking lot.

It was bigger then she’d imagined. Her expectations had been more in line with an office building, filled with short sighted men hunched over equations for hours. Not an entire factory building decked out in even more security then her own employer’s private company labs. There where two security checkpoints at the entrance of the building, and the handling of her bag and phone by strangers did little to improve her mood. None the less she attempted a smile at the uniformed man behind a large desk.
“Hello, would Dr. Moran be in today?” The man looked at his watch, sighed, then opened a program on desktop.
“Hasn’t checked out yet, but he’s way down in the warehouse. We can’t really reach the guys down there. Aren’t supposed to bother them either.” He looked her over, apparently looking for a missing limb or any sort of emergency that would require him to bend these ‘rules’. Olivia’s smile turned to a full grin, with clenched teeth.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with Dr. Miller by this point, Mr…?” At the name of Miller the formidable man seemed to shrink half a size.
“Keen. Tedd Keen.”
“Well Mr. Keen,” She placed her cellphone on the desk in front of him, clearly displaying a missed call from the doctor. “She’s been trying to reach me for some time now, and I’m not going to explain to her that no one has heard from her son in three days on my own. So unless you find some way to reach the warehouse, you’re going to have to tell both myself and Dr. Miller exactly why that is, when she calls again in about fifteen minutes.” Isabella Miller’s influence went further than just her son it seemed, as Tedd Keen reached for a large walkie-talkie on his desk, then hesitated.
“Your name miss?”
“Olivia.” She gave the poor man one last smile before moving back to stand beside the seats placed just after the second security point. The small victory had rallied back her optimism and it actually took Duncan’s appearance several minutes later for her to remember that she was annoyed. Not that she had a chance to express as much before he began talking and practically dragging her back wherever he’d just come from.
“Thank you Mr. Keen!” was the only full sentence she managed to get out before disappearing through a series of hallways leading to what appeared to be a set for a science fiction movie. It truly was a warehouse, but in size only. Computers and boards with foreign math where just about the only things she could recognize. “Duncan-“ She tried for the fifth time with the same results. It was possible here that he just couldn’t hear her, everything was buzzing and he looked awfully tried. Her eyes however drifted to the giant holographic interface. The amount of money needed to fund a project- or whatever this was- would be astronomical. Duncan pulled her attention back with half of an explanation she answered nothing. She stared at him with utter confusion and more than a touch of concern, had he even left the lab since she’d last seen him?
“You’re talking about the Time Machine story? I might have read it in high school, scientists invites friends and colleges to see an invention and they all think he’s crazy…” Her eyes wandered again despite herself, he couldn’t be building a time machine, looking for anything that would help explain what the entire operation actually did.

Time Enough

Picture

Name: Oliva Narrows
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Hair: Black
Eyes: Teal
Height: 5’8
Build: Lanky, she is thin and while they’re there, she has little in the way of ‘feminine curves’

Background:
Olivia’s mother died when she was three years old. The Narrows where a wealthy name, and a line of young step mothers quickly came into place. These women while often vain and selfish, where never outwardly cruel to Olivia, still she was quiet and often made others uncomfortable. Without a proper mother a child’s presence was very misplaced and unwanted in a house of business men and socialites, so she was sent away to boarding school at 10 years. Harthfield School for Girls was probably the best decision ever made for Olivia, consciously or not. There where strict rule which she appreciated while others rebelled, but most importantly it taught her proper social skills. The strange, staring, girl sulking in the corners of her father’s office turned to a respectable and nearly friendly young woman in seven years. The California weather suited her, and she found interest in both medicine and technology.

She never grew close to her father, though their relationship grew to something akin to respect if not fondness. They spoke at Christmas and occasionally met over the summers, but Joseph Narrows was a business man who’s idea of fatherhood was a large allowance. He paid for her education, first at Caltech then UNM, all that was not covered by the number of scholarships she was awarded, as well as simply furnished apartments in both cities. At Caltech she rebuilt a small social circle and adjusted quickly to learning in a larger and co-ed environment. She even kept a somewhat steady boyfriend for her second and third year but the man and relationship where stagnant and she ended it in favour of devoting even more of her time for medical school prep.

Moving to New Mexico was a greater shift then either boarding school or Caltech had been, the amount of work she put in to maintain her spectacular GPA did not allow time for making new friends in the new city, and most of her contact with past friends had fizzled out. Her dedication and tech background did catch the eye of professor, Dr. Tenwin who had been teaching his last semester at UNM before leaving to pursue full time research with Relicus Cybernetics Corp. The summer following her second year at medical school Olivia was offered the choice to continue advancing her degree, or join the professor in development of human cybernetics. It wasn’t much a decision for her. Within a week she discussed her situation to the admissions office and left the school, always intending to return once she had a secure enough position in the field.

Personality:
Work is life for Olivia, throughout university she was never one to go when there was the option of studying, strictly needed or not. She prefers action to only learning about something, though both are better choices then idleness, but she doesn’t regularly indulge in ‘theories’ scientific or otherwise. The arts have never held much interest for her and little to none of her reading is ever fiction. Her family was at best untraditional, and her close and happy relationships are those with friends. She enjoys acts of small dry humor which can be easily missed in her rather quiet and professional persona.

Quirks:
Mild OCD traits, such as compulsive handwashing and need for cleanliness.
Has a horse named Anette in a Vermont country home

Strengths:
Driven, smart, punctual, usually charming
Weakness:
Stubborn, impatient, easily agitated (which often leads to rudeness)
Likes:
Working, self-improvement, cleanliness, horses
Dislikes:
Waiting, idleness, the cold, fast food, cats
Fears:
Mysophobia (germaphobe)

Dance in the Night - A Vampire Society Roleplay

Anna

Name: Anna Liden
Age: 28
Sex: Female
Sexual Preference: Straight
Human/Slayer
Family: wip
Significant Other: Ex-husband Marcus Liden in Hartford CT, they remain on good terms.

Personality
Anna never had much passion for her work. She was good at it, and enjoyed helping the people she could, but never thought it her destiny to ‘rid the world of evils’. Before the death of her father, she didn’t even hate vampires the way most of her colleagues did, it was about saving people not killing monsters. It meant Anna had a firm grip on her negative emotions, especially in her professional life. Her frustration and anger exists, but is displayed more by weariness then by lashing out in temper. She prefers action, and has a fairly impatient streak that when matched with her unabashed honesty make some think of her blithe. While recent events have soured her mood, her usual happiness is quickly returning with the excitement of a New City and for the first time, a small, vengeful feeling.

History
Anna’s parents divorced when she was at a young age. The true reason was only revealed to her shortly after her graduation from highschool, when her father first attempted to reconnect. He revealed her heritage; a line of slayers dating back at least a century, with only a few gaps. Of course she didn’t believe him, paired with years of resentment lead her to reject him outright, but he was persistent and she lacked any plans post-secondary education and at 18 her formal ‘training’ began.
Her father found her physically able, quick and collected enough to be a scout among the slayers. While she was very proficient at hand-to-hand combat, it would never be of much use against a vampire, and she was rarely put in confrontational scenarios. It wasn't until the death of her father that Anna developed a proper hatred for vampires. Before she had been in the job to make a living of sorts, and possibly help people; not some notion of 'riding the world of evils'.
Her now-ex-husband was with the Connecticut slayer group – handling the more technical side of things rather than active engagement. They were both young when they married with different ideas of where their lives would lead, but confidence that they would have enough time to sort it out. Until just after Anna's 28th birthday. What had been planned as an information and reconnaissance job for her father had somehow turn to murder and attempted rescue. In short three where dead, one civilian, one vampire and Anna's father. Afterwards there was something of a max exodus by the local vampire’s and there seemed nothing left to do but dissolve the Connecticut slayers. Marc saw it as an opportunity for himself and Anna to truly settle down and begin normal non-lethal lives, but the death of her father was too fresh in Anna’s mind and her resolve to hunt stronger than ever. The disagreements overcame them and four months after her father’s death Anna found herself alone and unmarried in New York City.