spencerishere

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@Ithradine just shoot me a PM! :)

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Hello! My name is Spencer and I'd really love to try out 1x1 roleplaying. In the past I really only did group roleplays and I wanna try something new.

I have nothing too particular in mind. I like fantasy, scifi, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, all that jazz. You wanna make a whole fantasy world with me? Fuck yeah let's do it. Anything with world building in any setting, I love.

The only romance I'm comfortable with doing is MxF, with me as the female. But I would prefer a more character and story oriented rp rather than one revolving romance. 18+ scenes I'm fine with as well.

Just inbox me if you'd like to try and start something :) I'm open to all your ideas and I will help contribute to them! Thanks!

Rebellion is Our Calling, and why we rise!(closed)

Letter is Given to the Princess

(Four days after arrest,day after escape)
Eleanor stormed out of the room, a mixture of tears and anger on her face. Her heart was broken from the loss of the man she just recently figured out she was in love with and her anger swelled towards the betrayal of her own father. Fenros was no traitor and should not be dead. She was already at odds with her two male family members just for her kindness towards those below them but after their dinner, El no longer saw them as family just two people who happened to share her blood. People whom she could never trust or care for ever again. Although her brother was still in the in between, he would always hold a soft spot in her heart.

Elize waited patiently outside the door for her princess, letter clutched in hand. She rubbed the wax seal with her thumb but remained careful not to smear the design. Her heart beat fast behind her ribcage and her lungs seemed too small to breathe normally. Fenros was alive. Alive.

Eleanor bursts out from her father’s study, obviously upset. “Oh, El,” Elize cooed softly. She wrapped her arm around El’s shoulders and tucked the letter in the folds of her own dress. Words like those should not be shared in public. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go to my room.” That seemed like the best place to show her the letter. Guards would be stationed around the princess’s chambers, and lord knows their prying eyes and ears would report anything suspicious to the king. “Is Ritza around?” While Eleanor’s bodyguard was a trustworthy woman, Elize wasn’t sure how she’d react to the news of Fenros’ faked death. She might jump to conclusions and try and find him without any good plan.

The princess gladly accepted Elize’s embrace, her need for warmth and love after that strong fight. Eleanor hugged the younger girl back tightly,thankful that she had her in her life. She had always seen Elize as a younger sister and that connection was one she needed right now. Upon releasing the girl, her face had softened, the anger having been erased. She nodded at Elize’s suggestion and hooked her arm with the younger girl’s.

“No. Ritza is off on her own right now. We both are taking the loss of Fenros differently…” When she said his name her voice cracked ever so slightly as she held back fresh tears. The heaviness and sharp pain in her chest growing stronger again. Eleanor took a deep and shaky breath, holding back the tears. She needed to remain strong when not in private, having to keep her appearance of the kingdom’s strong, beautiful princess.

“Hush now, we can talk about him more when we get to my room,” Elize insisted. The letter felt heavy with guilt in her pocket. “We don’t want people staring, alright?” The noble girl kept her arm around the princess and guided her through the palace, glaring at anybody who dared stare at Eleanor. Once they got to her room, Elize sat El on her bed and shuffled around, looking for her pitcher of water and a soft cloth. She discreetly heated the water with her magic and dipped the cloth inside before bringing it to the princess. “Hot water always makes me feel better when I cry,” she stated.

Before El could reply, Elize did a circle around the room; she opened her closet door and closed it, lowered the shutters, checked in the hallway, and locked her door before pulling the letter from her dress. The air in her lungs seemed stale and dry and caught in her throat. “A man,” Elize whispered. “A man gave this to me and told me to bring it to you.” She handed the paper to Eleanor, her fingers shaking.

Eleanor nodded, taking another deep breath as she walked with the girl, ignoring the stares of people they walked by. Once they arrived to Elize’s room and were behind a closed door she let her poise go, her shoulders slumping forward as she rested her head in her hands, her face contorted in sorrow. The princess looked up when her friend came back over and gratefully took the warm wet cloth. “Thank you Elize. I don’t know what I would do without you. The others are just keeping distance from me…” Eleanor referencing to the other ladies-in-waiting who hadn’t been speaking to her since everything began with Fenros.

Gently, she dabbed the damp cloth on her face, holding it over each eye for a few seconds as the warmth felt good against her swollen eyes. While doing so she was too lost in thought to notice Elize going around and checking everything around her room, but she was brought back to reality when Elize spoke to her while holding out a letter. Eleanor set the cloth on her lap and took the letter, staring at it for a few minutes.

When she opened the letter and read the first few words a gasp escaped her mouth before she covered it with her hand and fresh tears began to flood her vision. The princess blinked rapidly clearing the tears as she read on, her heart rate increasing and an occasional choked back sob escaping her lips. After finishing the letter El looked straight at Elize, “Who gave you this letter? Tell me. Please.” Tears were streaming down her face once again but this time a look of hope could be seen in her eyes. It was small, no bigger than an ember the flew out of the fire, but it was there. Fenros was possibly alive and Eleanor needed to confirm it with whoever brought the letter.

Elize folded her fingers together, her palms sweating. She resisted the urge to check the door. “He was--he was hooded and had a bow and quiver. Sometimes the old women of the court talk about a man like that; they call him the Woodsman.”

Eleanor stood up knowing exactly who the man was. “Thank you Elize. Thank you.” She gave the girl a quick hug before she quickly hurried off into the halls, wiping her face of tears. A new look of determination plastered on her face as she head off to find the Woodsman, aka Verrick.

Rebellion is Our Calling, and why we rise!(closed)

@AtomicNut uh we're not quite sure if there even are mythical creatures besides just legends? It's up to gm @OneStoryToMany but we as a group haven't even mentioned it yet

» ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ

I'm still around :/

Rebellion is Our Calling, and why we rise!(closed)

Hello, I would like to join if it is still possible :) I hope I didnt make any major mistakes in the CS, if so, feel free to point them out and I will do my best to fix them.

Dhaeva

Name: Dhaeva

Race/Faction: Shrikanti

Age: looks around 35, but is probably much older

Description:

image

Dhaeva looks like a typical Shrikanti woman – very dark skin, rather short and skinny. She always wears magical talismans and trinkets, some of them made of wood and stones, some of them of animal bones or teeth. She has looked the same age for years, some even say decades, maintaining her body through her magic. Her eyes are said to hide the flames of Sol, as they are bright orange, a color very unusual amongst the Shrikanti.

"Class": Witch

Motivation:
Dhaeva prefers to stay out of conflict and tries to focus on helping her people through healing and protection magic. She will fight fiercely when her people are attacked, but is quite reluctant to attack herself.

History:
Dhaeva was born as a sixth child into a poor family. Her father was a goatherd and their family wealth were a small herd of goats. Dhaeva’s mother died a few days after giving birth to her, the childbirth was long and complicated, and she never stopped bleeding after it. Because her father could hardly feed the children he already had, let alone a few days old infant, she sent her to a witch coven to raise her. Witches were reluctant to take the baby in, but when the oldest one saw the color of child’s eyes, she prophesied great future for it.

So Dhaeva grew up learning magic even before she could walk and talk. She studied all kinds of magic, but it was the healing that she preferred, partially because of the way her mother died. Dhaeva wanted to prevent that happening to other women.

Very little of this history is known to common people, as Dhaeva spends her long life travelling between Shrikanti cities and smaller settlements, sometimes spending few months in place, sometimes a few years. She has a place in every witch coven, but she rarely uses this privilege, as she prefers to lead simple life free from politics.

She has been staying in the city of Cealla for the past three years, helping other Shrikanti and surviving on the gifts she received for her help.

Strengths:
She excels in healing and protective spells, also knows some useful curses and confusion spells. She wants to help everyone and hates to see people dying from causes that could be prevented, like minor diseases or hunger.

Weakness:
She is very reluctant to use offensive magic. She helps people sometimes to the detriment of herself, giving them last food or water or using her powers to the point of exhaustion. Also, she is quite weak in hand-to-hand combat.

What is the most important thing to know about your character?
Dhaeva is a healer, not just by profession, but by heart.

What is your character's greatest flaw?
Sometimes she cares too much and that can be used against her. She will go out her way to try and save people, even into dangerous situations.

Why should your character be in a position to influence an entire country?
While she doesn’t like using offensive magic, she certainly knows her way around it. If nothing else, she can help protect her people from foreign attacks.

Writing example

Dhaeva was sitting in front of her hut, enjoying the morning sun. If you asked her, mornings were the best part of the day. Perfect balance between the unpleasant cold of the night and exhausting heat of the afternoon. She closed her eyes and appreciated the quiet for a moment.
“Dhaeva, Dhaeva!” So much for the quiet. Little girl was running towards her, calling her name.
“What is it?” she asked while getting up and trying to remember the girl’s name. Was it Sali, or Sari or something like that? She couldnt have been more than six years old.
“Our well is dry again, my mother asks if you could help us.“
Another one? That’s the third one in two weeks. “Well then let’s see what the power of Macea can do about it,“ she smiled at the girl and followed her around the outskirts of the city. Some people greeted her as she passed by. She tried to at least smile at them and remember everyone, but there were just too many. So many people and only one of her to help all of them.
Finally, they arrived to a small hut. Some more children were playing around it, from small toddlers to about age of ten. Older children were probably somewhere working, so their younger siblings had something to eat.
Dhaeva headed straight to the well. It was a typical well shared by multiple families from the area. She peeked at the bottom. There was some wet mud, but that was about it, no water. Some women were watching her carefully, as she sat down on the sand next to the empty well. Dhaeva closed her eyes and reached for her magic, mumbling prayers to Macea. Praying wasn’t necessary for this spell, but it helped her concentrate.
She spread her senses around and down, beneath the dry sand. A few years ago, any novice witch could simply reach a little bit under the surface and she would find plenty of water to fill a dozen of wells. Now Dhaeva had to reach deep to find the spring and direct it into the well. She was shaking and drops of sweat appeared on her forehead, as the well slowly started to fill with water. When she was sure that the water will find the right way on its own, she interrupted the spell, sighing with relief. Water gathering was getting harder and harder. In just a few decades, this place will turn back into a dry dessert, she thought to herself.
The children were cheering and playing around the well, splashing water at each other. Their mothers picked up some water into larger pots for cooking.
One of them headed to Dhaeva with a basket in her hands. “We thank you for your help,” she said and bowed slightly. “Here, have this in return.”
Dhaeva took the basket and looked inside. It was filled with some basic food, milk and a little bit of butter. “I thank you for this gift,” she smiled at the woman, already thinking about starving children from a family she visited yesterday. Well today, they will finally have something proper to eat.

@Raylah

I thought liram would be the only veiled one yay he's got a bud

Machina X Magicae

"Everything we got in here are basically the only things worth buying, so yeah, I guess I am happy with my purchases." They directed the trucks to arrive at their apartment complex later than evening to drop off their furniture. The two roommates stood outside, watching the city traffic shuffle by. "Anything else we could do today?"

Rebellion is Our Calling, and why we rise!(closed)

Liram Najaho

Liram Najaho

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Name
Liram Najaho

Race/Faction
Born into the Veiled Ones, but somewhat beguiled by the Ouroborus and their powers

Age
22

Description
Standing at a tall 6'3", Liram takes after his father's height and looks. He has milky brown skin the color of the sands and brown curls falling just below his neck. Another oddity besides his rather pale skin color are his stark blue eyes that he shares with his half sister Elize that sets him apart from many of the Veiled Ones. With his training, he has built muscles in both his legs and arms, but his sword arm has gained the most strength. Strapped to his side at all times, his bronze Khopesh is his most trusted weapon. He's a handsome young man, but he is still set apart from his people.

Class
Foot Soldier slowly rising through the ranks.

Motivation
Liram finally knows what he can do to prove himself to his people. Maybe fighting this rebellion will finally win him the love and respect he has always craved, or maybe it will lead him to the mystical allure of the Ouroborus. Either way, he's going to find his calling.

History
Born the bastard son of High Lord Casterly and a desert Veiled One, Liram has lived an alienated life. Everything about him has set him apart from his people and his culture. His father insisted he take a family first name before retreating back to his cushy life of money and wine and even more women. Liram's mother never explicitly told him that his dad was a kingdom nobleman, but he could at least deduce that his father was not a Veiled One, not to mention the fact that he is notably paler than his peers.
He was teased and bullied as a child, called milk face and a betrayer to his kind because of his blood. Worried her child may be expelled from the tribe, his mother pleaded with the Cealla elder women to keep him and accept him into their society. They reluctantly agreed, under the circumstances that when the time came, Liram would have to leave and migrate back to the kingdom, so his unnatural disruption would be righted in the universe. But then the rebellion started, and he was given a chance to train, fight, and earn his place with the Veiled Ones.
During an early training session, some masters of the Ouroborus came and visited. Liram was immediately drawn to their abilities and glamor, and they knew it. Torn between his duty to his mother and his people and the hunger for power that lies deep inside him, he's still unsure if he should abandon the only life he's ever known and seek out the Ouroborus for guidance.

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Strengths
Loyal • Physical Fortitude • Impulsive

Weakness
Eager • Insecure • Slow

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What is the most important thing to know about your character?
Liram is ambitious, but not for the right reasons. It is possible he may become dedicated to the rebellion at some point, but for now, he is more focused on his own goals of acceptance and this feeling of home he so desperately craves. He will be unwavering and loyal to those who show him the same amount of consideration and respect.

What is your character's greatest flaw?
He really needs to get over his need to please others and receive praise in return. While he's not a dumb boy, a few nice words can lead him down the path of long-term manipulation and control. What he needs most is to realize that he has nobody he really needs to prove himself to other than him.

Why should your character be in a position to influence an entire country?
Despite how wrapped up Liram is with his own personal image and how society sees him, he has a lot of potential not only as an individual but as a high nobleman's son. Once people learn of his lineage, he has the ability to not only alter the mindsets of the Veiled Ones and the commoners of the Kingdom, but the royal class as well. The nobles will listen to his blood right and the peasants will see his humble beginnings and capability to overcome his vulnerable self.

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The desert sands whipped across the cold night and splattered onto the small encampment. The soldiers huddled together around their small fires, chatting about home or women or the rebellion. Letting the heat of the flames lick against his sore back, Liram stretched his muscles out. "Milk face," one recruit called out to him. It was a young boy, maybe around 19 or 20. Though the Veiled Ones are a tight-knit people, Liram had never seen him before. He was as the color of tree bark and had a light pink scar running across his nose. "The soldiers around here tell me your father is a kingdom noble man, and that's why you're so pale."
Rubbing his face, Liram bit his tongue. "One night," he muttered to himself. "Just one fucking night." Liram knew his father was a kingdom man, but he was no royal. That was a rumor the soldiers had come up with to ridicule and humiliate him.
"Well?" the young man asked, expectant and staring.
"Sol made me this way, so this way I shall be," Liram answered easily. It was a phrase he had memorized as a child, one his mother had taught him.
"Sol makes no mistakes like your skin," the recruit retorted.
Liram could feel his fingers grip the hilt of his Khopesh. Normally he could take the usual taunts, but tonight was different. His cheeks flared with color and his heart began to beat with adrenaline. He could feel the eyes of his fellow soldiers begin to turn and watch, waiting for somebody to move.
"Then maybe Shrikant or Macea did it. It is not my place to question the gods," Liram finally responded after a tense pause. He didn't feel like fighting tonight, even if it was a wound on his ego. He had already spared so much today.
"You know what use to happen to babies like you?" the boy asked. Before Liram could even turn to look, the recruit grabbed his sword and was on his way to strike.
"We use to gut you and sacrifice you to So--"
Liram jumped from his spot, Khopesh in hand. He deflected the recruit's long sword with ease, the deafening clank shattering all conversation across camp. The boy was still in basic training, Liram noted. His curved blade hooked onto the short sword and yanked it from the recruit's hand before taking another swipe at the boy's sword hand. Wisely, the kid stumbled back, nearly tumbling into the burning embers and coals. He cursed and yelled and called it an unfair match, but their captain had already emerged from his tent and demanded an end to the violence. Liram spat before the boy's feet, the ultimate insult. This wasn't the first fight he'd had over his skin. It wouldn't be his last.

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Elize Casterly

Elize Casterly

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Name
Elize Casterly


Race/Faction
The Kingdom

Age
17

Description
Elize takes after her mother very much in her looks. She has blonde flowing hair running down her back and a petite build of 5'2". She is a typically beautiful noble child, but her bright blue eyes that she shares with her half brother Liram attract much attention and many suitors. She wears a special ring given to her by Lady Casterly in order to help control and boost her magical powers. While pictured above with her hair down, her hair is in braids or a bun the majority of the time to keep it out of her face because it breaks her concentration.

Class
Witch

Motivation
Elize needs to reclaim her father's titles and lands, for the sake of her future and her family. She has no one allegiance to either the crown or the rebels, only to her family.


History
High Lord Casterly and his wife Lady Casterly happily welcomed their third child, baby Elize, within the walls of their lavish Kingdom manor. Elize grew up in a privileged life, with little responsibility and expectation. Her eldest brother, Micah, would inherit the Casterly seat and wealth, while her older sister, Lyra, would be trained and educated to marry into another house. Elize would eventually be married off as well, but she did not receive the same pressure as her two older siblings. She easily became spoiled and fat with all her mother and father gave her. Every jewel or cloth or thing she ever desired was given right to her.
As Elize grew older, turmoil steadily began to brew in the Kingdom between the commoners and the nobles, but Elize remained oblivious in her comfort. Things progressively deteriorated, and Elize's parents argued over whether or not to tell her. High Lord Casterly wanted to keep his darling baby girl ignorant while Lady Casterly wanted to arm her youngest child with knowledge and magic. Witchcraft was an old practice among the ancient women in Lady Casterly's family, one cast back in favor of royal court life, but Lady Casterly knew enough to teach her daughter. Going behind her husband's back, Lady Casterly began teaching Elize the archaic practice at the tender age of 13. Lady Casterly was afraid that the magic wouldn't take well, as most children begin their training around 5 or 6, but Elize was a natural. She had a true gift. The way she crafted spells and charms were beyond any witch in her lineage, which somewhat concerned her mother. They began to have trouble concealing her abilities. Elize was susceptible to tempers and outbursts that influenced and affected her surroundings, making her powers all the more evident, but her father is still oblivious.
By 16, she should have been married off to another noble family, but her father was very distracted by the onslaught of out all revolution. Micah became apart of the Vanguard and died defending the royal heirs from an angry mob. House Casterly was falling apart with no son. Lyra was married off to a rich family far away, and would not come to harm as a result of a coup. High Lord Casterly has come down with a mysterious illness Lady Casterly believes is the responsibility of either the Ouroborus or the Veiled ones, leaving the two women of House Casterly to run their daily functions. While Elize promised her mother that she would only use her magic to defend herself, she is secretly beginning to hunt out her family's enemies and slowly pick them off one by one, whether they pledge to the crown or not.

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Strengths
Honest • Magically Gifted • Loyal

Weakness
Temperamental • Apathetic towards others • Notoriety

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What is the most important thing to know about your character?
Elize is ambitious beyond belief. She is willing to do anything to protect her family and its possessions now that Micah is dead and her father has fallen ill. She may feign the helpless young girl act, but know that she is much more powerful than she seems.

What is your character's greatest flaw?
Her willingness to do anything could easily teeter her over the edge into some improbable and risky situations. She's not eager to face death, but if doing so will save house Casterly, don't doubt that she will do so. While she has no true allegiance to either side of the rebellion, she is willing to double cross both if it means she gets to return to her old life.

Why should your character be in a position to influence an entire country?
Elize already has the noblewoman factor going for her. She can be charming and charismatic with her soft looks and tempting lips, but that is only the power of a beautiful woman. Coupled with the exceeding abilities of an exemplary witch, she could make waves if she so desired.

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Elize wandered through the streets, a dark hood tossed over her head. She walked with precision and a fast gait but kept her head pointed down. Now wasn't a good time to attract attention. The sounds of the peasants' rebellious preachings echoed through the narrow streets, calling for the head of the king and all of the nobles as well. Speeches like this use to frighten Elize, sometimes even give her night terrors, but things have changed.
The girl arrived at her destination. It was a small divination shop called Wicca's Haven that sold small amounts of herb and carved candles that were supposedly enchanted with love spells. Elize pushed the creaking wood door open before stepping inside the musky space, the stench of lemon and rosemary washing over her senses. An old crone stood behind a counter. She grinned knowingly at Elize, revealing her greying gums. "Child," she rasped softly. "I was not expecting you for another few hours."
Elize smiled back and removed the hood from her head. Had it not been for the tie containing her blonde curls, her hair would've tumbled down her shoulders and reached past her waist. "I know, Anari, but things have become more urgent. My father has gotten worse."
The old woman nodded in understanding. She reached for something below the counter and brought out a small black bag. Elize approached and peeked inside, looking at the brown brittle tea leaves. "I am terribly sorry to hear about dear High Lord Casterly," Anari murmured. "Remember to give him this tea once a day, and he will get better."
Elize stared at the little pouch and frowned. She reached inside her pocket before setting a sizeable amount of coin on the counter. "Thank you, Anari. I will be back soon," the girl bid the old witch goodbye.
Putting her hood back on and stepping back onto the street, Elize tucked the pouch of tea leaves into her dress. The medicine had worked so far. Her father was beginning to be able to sit up on his own and breathe normally. Before, he had been so weak he could barely lift a finger. Thank the gods Elize had found Wicca's Haven.
The commoners were becoming more rowdy as Elize walked home. They spoke of royal blood running through the streets and the king's head on a spike. Like children, they screamed and shouted in delight at the thought of the king's dead body being ripped apart by their bare hands. Elize knew they had good reason to be mad, she had to admit that. But if the king came down, so would her family. She couldn't let that happen.
"Hey!" a gruff voice called from behind her as she left the larger crowds. The girl walked on, trying to ignore the man. "Hey, I'm fuckin' talkin' to you." A hand forcefully yanked her back and whirled her around.
A man, maybe in his mid 30s, gripped her elbow and pulled her close enough that she could smell the stink of onion coming off his breath. "What's gotcha runnin' so fast, little girl? Ain't you with the rebellion?" Elize's heart began to spasm in her chest. She tried twisting her arm away from his grasp, but his fist only clamped down harder. "Huh? You gon' answer me?"
"Fuck off," she managed to sputter out.
His eyes darkened. "Now, who taught you that kinda language?" The peasant's other hand came up, poised to strike Elize, but it stayed frozen in the air. He grunted and twitched his arm, but the hand refused to move. His eyes widened in realization as he looked between Elize's gaze and his wrist. He opened his mouth to scream, yell, beg, curse, but choked down his words. His hold on her arm loosened and she managed to pull away as he clawed at his throat, trying to get at least one gulp of air. "Please," he pleaded with his last breath. The crowd was too enthralled in the sermon to notice the man slowly suffocating from nothing. Elize watch as he crumpled and the light slowly faded from his eyes. There was no place for men like him in this world. Not even in a place as corrupt as the kingdom.

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Machina X Magicae

"I guess the furniture store. I kinda don't wanna sleep on the floor," Mable chuckled. They arrrived at the nearest used-furniture store and began to browse. The first bedset they looked at had slash marks and burn scorches on it. "Christ, this place is sketchy as hell," she murmured under her breath.

Machina X Magicae

"Does that happen often?" Mable almost chuckled. "Because I ain't afraid to smack a bitch. Again." She helped Owen clean up some of the mess. "Can we go shopping now? I need to get some more stuff for my room."