ThornyRose

Stories Among the Thorns 1x1 Interest Check

Bumpity?

Stories Among the Thorns 1x1 Interest Check

Hey, there! This'll be my 1x1 interest check for ya'll who are interested :D

1. First things first, do PM me if you are interested :D
2. I'll only be accepting one person for each prompt.
3. I do write about three, or more paragraphs depending on my mood-- I'd also like a partner who can match my length (or even surpass) as well :D
4. Since I am working, there might be times wherein I cannot reply right away! I'll give you a heads-up, though :)
5. Also, MxF pairing for now, since I'm not entirely comfortable with MxM or FxF :D
6. Feel free to add in your own plots, because I do love a good twist or addition from my partner :3 It's our story, after all!

Pull the Strings

Pull the Strings
Nox Azane, the Bandit x The Female Hired Blade

There is a price for everything. A price for goods, a price for homes, a price for love, and even a price for a life.

After the Black Mists had shattered a good number of the kingdoms surrounding the lands of Betrair, only five kings were able to stand up after the devastating disease tore apart the land, filling it with mass graves of the people who succumbed to the plague. As it turned out, these five kingdoms gathered their remaining powers as they established dominion over the now healthier territories, dedicating their effort into curing the rest of Betrair.

To the south of the land was where the Mist hit the hardest. The five kingdoms called it as the Squalid Dwells due to the tormented earth which glowed with sickly green essences as well as the withered trees which towered over the forests. Even the skies above the Squalid was gray and dark with an almost eternal downpour of rain.

Decades passed, and the five kingdoms grew in power as tales of the Squalid Dwells were left already as myths and legends since the kingdoms agreed to control passage into the lands. Stories of the plagued territories were soon forgotten until reports of throes upon throes of guards being killed inside the Squalid reached peasant ears. According to the tales, a group of plague-infested bandits had taken residence inside the Squalid Dwells, and were slowly building their own kingdom to dominate all life on Betrair.

With this news going rampant, the five kings called a gathering as they decided to hire and send an assassin down into the Squalid to deal with the rumored 'leader' of the plagued rogues. They mustered their resources as the kings finally found the best assassin they could among the lands they controlled: a woman who climbed the ranks until her very name became a synonym for Death (your character).

While her price soared to the premiums, the king wasted no time and parted with their gold to send the assassin on her way to lop off the head of the snake before it grew any longer.

Now, as the assassin traversed the Squalid for days, she was able to kill and track a good number of the plagued rogues until she was finally ambushed and taken prisoner. As she leaned against the tree she was tied to, the leader of the Squalid approached her-- tattered raven cloaks and dusty bandages shrouding his features-- and raised his knife. As the knife slashed down, the assassin would realize that the ropes had been cut, and that, she was free. However, the leader whose white pupils refracted light, spoke to her:

"You were sent to kill me." The blind rogue mumbled. "But, I assure you, your lot with the kings are a far worse bargain. There are secrets you must know, and I intend to tell you. Betrair and the Squalids, they weave an interesting tapestry. If you stay and help me in finding a cure, I will let you go and live once the cure is found. I'll even show you the way out of the Squalid. Should you choose not to, well... I'm afraid I must do what I must. "

Now, the assassin is left to an impossible task: fight and be killed, or listen and risk getting enmeshed in the secrets which ruined the land centuries ago.

Cutthroats

Cutthroats
Daniel Proudsword x The Female Bodyguard

Three sons were born into the bloodline of the Proudswords, fully assuring the king that his line will continue to grow even after his death. The first son, Metaron, was a prodigy in the martial arts. In fact, the eldest prince quickly became the general of the kingdom's army. The second son, excelling in diplomacy, became the kingdom's representative in all external affairs. It would seem that the sons of Proudsword would go down in history as talented, brilliant, and handsome men who led the kingdom into greater heights. However, as pleased as the family was with their two sons, the opposite happened when Daniel, their third prince, came into existence.

The youngest prince was a sickly child, his endurance and stamina unbefitting that of a man. Daniel failed at everything his brothers could do, and thus, he quickly became the shame of the family-- a skeleton in a closet. A prince who couldn't even contribute anything to the kingdom is nothing more than a burden, and so, Daniel grew up as the shame of the Proudsword bloodline. Technically, the only reason Daniel was kept alive was because it was illegal to kill him. But, the monarchs needed to 'show' their subjects that the third prince was still taken care of, and so, they hired the cheapest bodyguard (your character) they could find, and to top it off, it was a woman.

Obviously, Daniel's safety was not the priority in hiring this bodyguard. The task was simple: take care of Daniel, and protect him.

However, the retainer would discover that the danger was Daniel himself. A few months after the woman was assigned to him, Daniel confessed to her his plan to kill his parents and siblings. Intricate steps of deaths ranging from brutal to 'natural causes' were laid out in detail among the third prince's parchments, and his rationale for such an act was that monarchs who would treat their own child this way, as if he never existed, did not deserve to rule the kingdom.

He would take the crown, and he needed the help of the seemingly useless bodyguard to commit the sedition of the age.

Cubix's 1x1 Ideas

Is this still open?

Apprentices

Vestia noticed Dust who was observing her too much. She shook her head as she turned away, and wore the cloak, covering her head once more. Vestia just couldn't help it-- she becomes extremely defensive when people begin to hurt her. Vestia knows she was being rude and mean, especially to her colleague, but... well, this was who she was. Vestia sighed deeply as she took out one of the coffee stained parchments, and tapped Dust's shoulder to get his attention.

"Sorry about that, Dusty. Well, I don't think we'll be meetin' again, but you're an interestin' feller. I hope you succeed. Keep the faith." Vestia smiled as she handed him the parchment which contained the advertisement and the contract as well. "Well, in case you're interested. See ya on the flip side, Dusty." the alchemist saluted the lad as she turned to Ash, and gave her the ever famous flipping finger. She then stuck out her tongue, as if trying to insult her. Vestia turned away as she dodged through the crowd, and came upon a lemonade stand. Vestia kneaded through her pockets, pulling nothing but lint. She finally found a silver piece in one of her pockets, and tossed it to the vendor. Vestia took the cool beverage instantly and when she was about to drink it, a raggedy child began pulling her cloak.

"Oh come on, really?" Vestia mumbled as she rolled her eyes, and gave the lemonade to the child who took it quickly and ran away. "Yeah... they're all like that. Pricks." Vestia ran a hand through her locks as she began to search her pockets for silver. She found, perhaps the last one, a piece, and exchanged it for another lemonade which she drank hastily... another beggar might come.

From the corner of her eye, Vestia spotted a pretty lass (Thea), who looked tough and all. "Hey, you there! Lookin' for an apprenticeship?"

Apprentices

Vestia tried to smile as Dust, the kid, said that he wanted to meet the Master of the Healing Arts. Yeah, Vestia knew her; Vestia knew all those lazy-bums at the healing apprenticeship. It irked her to see that most kids nowadays would just go for the easy way out, and go for the sparkly-sparkly magic hut. Yep, this Dusty Fox didn't appear to be of any use to the alchemy training. Vestia nodded slowly before focusing back on the Golden Bird who had just flipped its gums and started talking. Honestly, Vestia was astonished at the talking bird, in fact, she even smiled in amusement. "Your only friend, huh? Ya know, kid... In this world, when everything fails, ya can only rely on yerself. That is why, while Goldy Flappy here is still with you, I suggest you take care of her, okay? My name's Vestia. You're not from around here, are ya?" Vestia chuckled, not even introducing herself as the alchemy master, after all, this kid wasn't looking for the hardwork arts, Dusty was looking for the lazy arts. "Oh yeah... the Healing Master is---" Vestia affirmed when suddenly, another idiot smashed into her tiny frame.

Vestia toppled forward as her cloak fell off. What was this? Smash into a Midget Day? That's it... Dusty was still okay since he was quite light, but this new faggot wasn't getting away with it! Vestia raised her head, and lo and behold-- it was the lazy bum, Ash, the healing master.

"Ya blind, ya sparkle bum?! Ya might be healin' and all, but ya still blind! Ya want me to shove a hydrochloric acid in your eye, huh?!" Vestia curled her fist as she turned to Dusty. "Hey, Fairy Powder, that's the lazy bum that ya are lookin' fer. Ash, the Healing Retard. Now, scram!" Vestia shook with fury... Ash had always looked down on her capabilities. She was just unbearably annoying.

"AND I'M NOT A KID IN CASE YOU WERE THINKIN' THAT, YA LUNATIC! YA LOST A FEW BOLTS AND NUTS?! Why I oughta smash that ointment in yer face so that ya can see!" the alchemist gritted under her teeth as she exhaled and turned to Dusty. "Hey, Dust Boy... go. I know ya want to be a healer, so take yer chance."

Apprentices

Vestia was feeling pretty proud of herself for hanging up that advertisement. It only took a chair, some flat rocks, a book, and her tip-toeing to the max so she could reach the top of that bulletin board. She barely got off the chair when a rather timid figure knocked into her, causing the chair to topple, sending Vestia crashing to the ground with a barely audible thud. The alchemist sat up angrily as she spun around, and pointed her rather small finger at the nearest person she could point out as her offender.

"Who do ya think ya are, maggot?!" Vestia shouted in a voice which was so timid that it would be hard to take her seriously. "Ya think ya can just waltz your tootie-patootie in here and bump me, huh? I'll lop that stinkin' head off of your---" Vestia stopped mid-sentence as she realized that the person was... well, not a person. The person... err, humanoid? He had ears-- fox ears! His skin was pale as snow, and he looked so innocent and pure. She couldn't muster any rage to get angry at him. His eyes looked pained, as if he had endured something traumatic. Who was this child? The alchemist dropped her frown and smiled instead.

"Ya dun have to stammer, ya know?" Vestia rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "Apology accepted, kid. Say, while we're on this topic-- ya lookin' for a master or somethin'?"

Apprentices

"Hey dad, mom... I'll be going now. It's the Day of the Choosing. Yeah, the last apprentice quit as well. No one has reached the 5th Level yet -- everyone is stuck in the 4th level. It's not my fault... if they can't handle the pressure, then they don't deserve to become alchemists." a soft voice echoed from the room inside an inn. "You don't have to worry, Dad and Mom, I've already paid for the rent until next month. I've just got to have some apprentices, and once they've paid the enrollment fee, they can leave whenever they want."

The girl stood up, grabbing the black cloak before covering her figure with it. The cloak acted as some sort of a veil which hid her youthful features and her red eyes which pierced into everything she saw. "It's fine... I'll manage. Make sure you can wake up, okay?" the girl smiled gleefully before turning to the door, and with a last glance at her parents, she softly closed the wooden door. A barkeep was looking at her with a confused glance, almost as if questioning her sanity.

"What are ya lookin' at, wise guy?! Out of my way!" the girl lunged forward before smacking the guy right in his groin. The alchemist, named as Vestia, strode through the different rooms before exiting the inn itself. She turned back, almost as if wishing that the inn wasn't there. Her eyes roamed the wooden frame and appearance of the place where her parents were laying in a coma. Vestia sighed before wrapping the black cloak around his neck, almost as if it was a scarf. Her steps were heavy and pained, and with each strode she made, it seemed that her burden was getting heavier. She knew where she was going: to her house.

Vestia reached the dilapidated shack that was just located in the corner of the marketplace. She hastily went inside, and got a few parchments. These were contracts apparently with the following conditions and provisions:

Contract

I, ___________________, wish to study under the tutelage of Vestia Veilin, Alchemy Master, and therefore, accept and understand all the provisions given below:

1. I understand that my apprenticeship is a privilege, and thus, the Alchemy Master can remove me at anytime.
2. I understand that before I am considered as an official apprentice, I must pay a shekel of silver as an enrollment fee.
3. I understand that alchemy is a risky field, and while rewarding, it is not to be taken likely.
4. I understand that I cannot sue the Alchemy Master should I be incinerated, disintegrated, poisoned, incapacitated, comatosed, dismembered, sundered, and be injured if it arises from personal mistakes and ignorance.
5. I understand that, as part of apprenticeship, I must report to the Alchemy Quarters, located near the river, before the sun crosses the horizon (9:00 am). Failure to do so will mean that the Alchemy Master has the right to punish me in anyway that he/she sees fit.
6. I understand that, as a future alchemist, I am entrusted with a sacred art not to be used for taking lives, but for preserving it.
7. I understand that any secrets revealed through the apprenticeship should be kept with utmost confidentiality. Failure to do so will merit an expulsion from the program.
8. I understand that, as a future alchemist, my duty is to the kingdom I serve before all else.
9. I understand that the Alchemy Master might require me to do some light cooking and cleaning due to the experiments that will be performed.
10. I understand that Alchemy is an art and science, and as such, I must be proud of what I've chosen and I will never give up until I succeed.

I understood all the conditions, and on this day of ___________________, witness my sign as a proof of my desire for apprenticeship:

(Insert Signature Here)

---

Aspirant Apprentice

Approved by:

Vestia Veilin

---

Alchemy Master

Vestia went out of her house as she now headed for the town square where most of the people were. She arrived there without much difficulty, and with a great effort, she managed to hang one of her advertisements:

"Do you desire to surpass boundaries? Ever wondered how it feels to be able to create something entirely new? Well, study under the Alchemy Master, and you can reach for whatever dream you might desire-- here, you can brew glory and craft fame.

Interested? Good! Now, go to the Alchemy Quarter near the river south of the town. Wait there for the Alchemy Master before you can sign the contract!"

The girl nodded to herself, and for her brilliance. "Don't worry, Mom, Dad... I know I can do this!"

Apprentices

Name: Vestia Veilin

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Image

Personality: Vestia is an extremely hot-headed individual who takes everything with a titanic salt. Any insult, no matter how small, is taken personally and she never forgets it. She is also prideful and haughty, which makes her apprentices loathe her to the bone. Vestia is also insecure about her height. Insult her height, you're asking for a death wish. However, Vestia knows where to give praise where it is deserved, and knows how to insult even if it isn't deserved. She is very passionate about alchemy though, and takes her profession really seriously. She treats alchemy as an art and science, art because it requires delicate will, effort, and sacrifice... science, because it changes and weaves fate. Anyone who would try to insult alchemy would get an intimate talk with her... a talk that will involve a boot in that person's face.

History: Vestia was born of two alchemist parents who are in a coma as of the moment. She was a child prodigy who took alchemy as if it was just a game. Potions danced at her fingertips, and creating fertilizers (for their farm) was nothing more than counting with her eyes closed. However, in a terrible alchemy accident, her parents were sent into a coma, and have never awakened since. On the other hand, Vestia had another side effect: she stopped aging and growing. She was stuck in a 4'1 height, and her physique still that of a 13 year old even though she entered her 20's. These traits made Vestia extremely insecure, and forced her to hide her delicate nature under a facade of a mean and ruthless mentor of alchemy. Like her parents, Vestia continues to teach some knuckleheads (who would leave soon afterwards) the delicate practice of alchemy. Vestia disliked healing magic, and spells because she views them as a lazy way of curing people. You want to cure a disease? Brew the potion yourself. You want to cure an asshole? Brew a poison. For her, magic is for fools while alchemy is for the strong. This kind of upbringing gave Vestia a tough attitude which she rubs off on her students. She makes it clear though that no one should insult her height, or they will get the living daylights sundered out of them.

Profession: Alchemy Professor

Other: Vestia's alchemy quarters is located near a river. That way, should there be any incidents of fire, the river is just near. Other than alchemy, Vestia is COMPLETELY untalented. She sucks in cleaning, cooking, sewing, knitting, music, and pretty much, everything in between. However, when it comes to alchemy, she is an extreme prodigy. That said, Vestia's house is just a small shack a few meters from the town market... it is untidy and unkempt. She has an uncontrollable urge to give to the poor though, and this had led her to be scammed multiple times. In addition, whatever money she has she gives it to the inn where her parents are currently incapacitated in. As such, she is left almost penniless every month. Still, she tries her best to look strong in front of those knuckleheads who dared to venture into the realm of alchemy.

Queens Guard: the Iron Company [semi-realistic medieval RP]

"If you're still acceptin', here's my CS"

CS

Erowe Vaelhmir
"Everyone and everything wears a mask to hide their shadows; these are shadows which no one is meant to see."

Full name: Erowe Thornmir Danahir DeBaron Vaelhmir

Titles: Duke Erowe (unused), Mask

Rank: Boar

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Personality: Erowe displays a typical fanaticism towards the Iron Company. He is extremely loyal and dedicated, and will often judge decisions based on which one benefits the company more. He is also remarkably soft-spoken, but when his emotions are irked, he becomes merciless in his words. Erowe's random twitching is also noticeable as he randomly twitches from time to time, but it is at its peak when he is aware of an upcoming battle. Is it a disease? A possession? This is an issue which not even the former Bear has ever understood. Erowe is noticeably a sadistic person, and as such, he enjoys battle (more often, blood) to the highest degree. If War could be married, Erowe would propose to it a thousand times. Another evidence of his sadism is his impulse to replace his armor with the bloodied armor of the last person he slays in combat. As such, a small game has been created among some of the warriors where they try to guess how many times Erowe has replaced his armor. Another noticeable thing with Erowe is his habit of changing his mask often; some masks are of the red shade while some of the purple. No one has seen him without the mask, maybe except the former Bear. Some rumors arise from his masks; some say that the masks are the weapons of his victims while the gruesome ones speculate that the masks are made from the skin of the fallen. Why would such a dangerous person be allowed to stay? His loyalty, dedication, and spirit are beyond measure.

History: Erowe has only told his story to a single person; the person who had gained his respect: the former Bear. Erowe was born of the noble family of Vaelhmir with his mother side of the DeBarons. He was filthy rich, and was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, and a silver spoon in his butt. He had everything in the blink of an eye! Servants, guards, and escorts followed his trail which would leave many envious of Erowe. However, the young lad wasn't who he seemed to be. His soft-spoken, gentle, and timid nature was merely a facade for something that was terrible: his true sadistic nature. In fact, the only reason that Erowe even took up fencing, swordsmanship, and other fighting classes was to sate this shadow that plagued him. He liked it when he drove his foil to a person's groin, he relished the feeling of his wooden sword thumping on his target's gut, and he liked it more when, in sparring matches, the crimson liquid flows from his opponent's wounds. However, outside of the fighting ring, Erowe puts on his mask once more. He acted like a noble, and as such, his desires were left suppressed for so long. As always, if there is a suppressed darkness, when the time comes, it will burst out from its cage.

The turning point in Erowe's life was when he was 18. He was supposed to be sent to the castle on some diplomat meeting as a representative of the Vaelhmir-DeBaron alliance of nobles. Then, tragedy struck. His convoy was ambushed by a band of rebels, and with such a swift attack, a good number of guards perished. Erowe, himself, stepped into the battlefield as he raised his favorite sabre, and engaged the bandits in combat. Erowe's sword was like a paintbrush; it was painting the ground, as if a canvas, with such a rich crimson shade. The ground ran red as Erowe's suppressed desires were released. His sadistic nature took over, brutally mauling the bandits, gutting them, and finally, he even licked the blood off of his sword. Erowe had never felt so ALIVE! Then, he realized his place-- he turned to his surviving family, and saw the immense fear in their eyes. Was this the Erowe that they raised and knew? This was a monster.

With a simple word, Erowe was disowned by own father. He was left their on the bloodied ground while the caravan moved on as if nothing happened. There, Erowe felt lost yet free. He would quickly attack anyone who come near him, and then, he met his match. A tall and burly warrior crossed his path, and eventually, his sword. Erowe was easily defeated, as he realized that this man was no ordinary warrior-- this was the Bear of the famed Iron Company. Erowe pledged his loyalty to the man-- claiming that it was an honor to serve someone who was so great of a warrior.

From that moment forward, Erowe honed his abilities to the limit. In order to hide his true identity, Erowe opted to don on masks of different shades of colors. Which effectively makes the Bear the only one who saw his true face within the Iron Company. He trained under the skills of the best warriors in the land, and when the time came, he was allowed to participate in a battle which was famous for causing the death of the ONLY MAN he ever respected: the Bear. Erowe felt lost afterwards... After all, he only respected strength... Who could replace the Bear? It was apparently the descendant -- Gnarl. Erowe doubted the younger head, however, Erowe saw something in this leader that he didn't see yet in the Bear, and as such, he willingly (yet uncertain) pledged his loyalty to this de-facto leader. Apparently, he made the right decision. In the Battle of Gunbar, Gnarl led all of them to combat, and they crushed their opponents like sand against wind. Erowe now held a pang of respect for the lad, however, it was still far off from the original Bear. Still, Erowe knows that the Iron Company would flourish under Gnarl... Erowe would support Gnarl in his decisions, because this would be what Bear wanted him to do: to help his descendant ascend the ranks and bring honor to the Iron Company.

Skills:
-Fencing Elitism: Erowe is exceptionally skilled in fencing, and as such, his main weapon is a sharp sabre. While fencing is mainly for dueling, Erowe can fight multiple enemies with it. Of course, he still has a weakness-- which is, he is still human. He can easily be overwhelmed by brute force because fencing is not for fighting axes and blunt weapons.
-Swordsmanship (Dagger Mastery): Specifically, Erowe is skilled in using daggers. He is quick with slashes and pierces which suits him to a hit-and-run style. Again, this fighting style is not good for fighting brute force.
-Scribe and Literate: Due to his excellent education in the Vaelhmir-DeBaron alliance, he is skilled in politics and reading ancient texts.
-Medicine: He learned basic medical aids during his schooling in the Vaelhmir-DeBaron. He can treat minor wounds and minor poisoning-- nothing more than that.

Dreams and fears: Erowe dreams to be of service to all the Bears that the Iron Company can procure. He believes that the original Bear will guide all his successors to lead the Iron Company to greatness. He dreams to see the Iron Company as the most feared and respected mercenary group of all-- all would tremble at their feet. Yes, his dreams are all anchored on the Iron Company. One of his greatest fears is to see the Iron Company fall-- he would die before he would allow the Iron Company to perish. In honor of the Bear, and in honor of all who fought under the banner of the Iron Company. Another of his greatest fear is for him never to realize who he truly is, and to keep living a life of lies-- all hidden under the guise of a smiling mask.

Favored equipment:
-Iron Sabre sheathed and hidden in an Iron cane: Simply enough, Erowe's sabre is hidden inside an iron cane which he carries all the time. By twisting the cane's handle, the sabre can be drawn.
-Two Iron daggers strapped to his waist.
-Currently, he wears a stained plate armor which he got from his last victim. He also wears some iron armlets, and some iron greaves.
-He has a small pouch which hangs from his waist. This pouch contains water, some medicinal herbs, and some bread.

Extra:
-Erowe has forgotten his clan's insignia... Either he chose to forget or he just forgot naturally is something he wouldn't tell.

A Great Bloody Mess

Kuro's light footsteps resonated within the dilapidated shack as he was pacing around the shelter. He caught wind of a figure who entered in the shack; it was Priscilla the Ancient. For some reason, Kuro had this strange feeling to keep his distance from her. Ironically, she's their only hope, yet Kuro wanted to keep his distance. It's not like he hates her or something, but for some reason, he didn't like to know the full extent of Priscilla's powers. Kuro felt as though he would not be able to accept some of her capabilities... specifically, Necromancy. Truly, Skull Queen meant more than just being able to bash the skulls of humans.

"Hisako-pyon! Hehe! You goin' to go on a hunt? Hai hai! I'll just stay right here, and keep watch on the shack. I'm glad that Big Sis and Krov-kun are goin' with ya!" Kuro chuckled childlishy while he waved his hand. Suddenly, Kuro's eyes flashed red as he took a predator stance, and wildly twisted his head so that it would face the approaching figure. The figure came out from the shadows as Kuro took in a deep sniff, and exhaled wildly.

"Necro--- mancy---" Kuro growled huskily, making sure he wasn't glaring at Priscilla. Could she have done this?! No. Hopefully, not her. Kuro awaited the arrival of the Abomination... Suddenly, the grotesque creature stood in front of them, and spoke in an accent which Kuro was familiar of... it was italian.

"Italian, eh? My coven is situated in Italy, that is where I fled during the Shogun Wars; pretty much, after Nobunaga committed suicide under Akechi. My Lady was an italian vampire." Kuro mumbled lowly, approaching the abomination. "Sei al sicuro qui*" Kuro spoke in a japanese-accented italian language. "[i]Chi è il tuo padrone?*"

* - You are safe here.
** - Who is your master?