LadyRunic

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

Bump

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

Bumping this.

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

bumping this

Grishaverse Fandom Role-Play

I've finished the whole series and am very interested. However, I'm worried I'll spoil things by letting one of the big reveals slip. As the final two books (King of scars and Rule of Wolves) put a lovely spin on things. So, I'll keep an eye on this, though.

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

Boop

A giant List of Ideas and Potential Stories [High-Casual to Advance] [18+]

Going to bump this

The Prince's Royal Guard

Horses had a sense abiut them of when to be quiet. When foals were born,for one example, or when catastrophe was close at hand. Though if it was the latter, surely it was for this man. Zatana almost wanted to have some mercy on the man as the wicked mare fought the assassin for his cloak. Trained to fight along with her own disposition, the mare was a fiend and for this very reason had yet to be stolen. The last thug who had tried on the road to the Empire of Man had found himself nursing a broken arm and some bruises. The bit in the mare's mouth stalling off her bite, but her hooves were just as efficient.

Stepping forward she sent her blade at the man's bad leg again. He could not fight with one leg, and she truly did not expect the long blade to hit. Drawing another from the back of her neck, Zatana adjusted her grip and lunged forward. Smiling as the man cut through his own cloak to engage her and escape the mare. While the cloak was a burden he was now free of, it was also a disguise. He was shedding one defense after the other and Zatana found herself wanting to lay his soul bear and garner his secrets.

Fainting toward his wounded side, she pulled the move at the last second. Her knife both moving toward new and different targets. One towards his good leg, the other to intercept his likely block via his hand. If successful, she would be grinning in cruel delight as her daggers struck his inner thigh and sliced deeply into the hand holding one of his daggers.

Jumping back to avoid locking blades, Zatana cursed silently as her feet slipped in the straw. The mare screaming a insult as she half reared and bucmed within her stall. The wood rattling as the mare longed for battle. Righting herself, the drow darted toward toward uninjured side again, this time seeking seeking lock blades. Injured from her first attack or no, her foot would snake about and jerk the injured knee to throw her opponent off balance. One hand dropping her own knife to punch the man in his groin and then work up his soft stomach before she retreated again her eyes quickly darting about to read the situation.

To Claim a Starting World

@Blizz It's alright. This Rp is a slow one and more reliant on the players actions than be making the decisions as to telling you what to do. It's not for everyone.

And a post will be up in a day.

The Prince's Royal Guard

As the man fell to the floor and the other was furthered lamed, Zatana felt a distinct sense of pride. Her job, her task, was one she had trained in since she could hold a knife and there were few who could match her. Perhaps such hubris made the appearance of the small black ball such a sour note in her night, or perhaps it was the stinging smoke that made her eyes water. Small favors to the cloth over her mouth and nose, disguises against her dark elf origins, though she still wheezed and gasped more than she thought reasonable. Twisting, she gripped the edge of the desk. Listening for the assassin or the wizard in the haze. As it cleared though, she snarled several curses in her native tongue seeing the blood trail leading to the window. The door was a small favor, and though he went out the window he was blamed.

Inclining her head to the wizard, her body sketched an ever so slight bow even as she broke into movement. "Aye, Lord." Her tone was slightly off, her eyes filled with dark fury as she slipped the sharp blade she held between her teeth. Her balance though was not as she swung out over the window sill and began to descend with drops and grabs onto handholds that made her shoulders ache and her toe throb as she felt them ram into the stone. Finally, she felt the solid flagstones and sprung after the trail of blood. He would not escape her!

Releasing her blade, she caught it and spat out blood from where the sharp edge had slightly sliced her tongue. It would hurt for a time, but the wound would heal. The trail was obvious, two wounds to a single leg would leave the fight weak and a weak assassin would try to hide Zatana reasoned. 'Or I would.' The assassin who lived could try again, the assassin who was captured? No, death only would await for them. But with a trail so obvious where could he-?

Her reckless run had brought her around the corner of the stable, escape by horseback would not be possible if the gates were down, but he could gain distance and lose her in the city. Perhaps that had been his plan, but as she swung about the corner Zatana flung herself back as a pitchfork launched like a javelin towards her torso. As it was her armor took a deep tear across the chest and the dark elf gritted her teeth against the foolish mistake. "Trying for a horse? The entire city will be crawling with the Duke and Prince's men!" Privately she hoped the assassin would try to hop aboard the wicked mare that Zatana called her own. The man would surely prefer the dungeon after that. "Or would you rather deal with a dark elf's version of recompense? This particular city distinctly dislikes it, a shame." She crooned as she darted around the corner, rolling into the gloom within the dark stables. Listening for any movement that was not a horse. A second long knife in her hand as she put the wall at her back.

To Claim a Starting World

Oskar looked guilty as he shook his head. His knuckles were white as he gripped his bow. "No, not at first." He mumbled and gave Arn and Gwendolyn a pleading expression. "It wasn't me! I swear I've not seen him- that- before! It was Wersk and Skal, they decided to go hunting and were going to a rabbit's warren." The boy swallowed hard. Betraying his cousins would earn their wrath, but someone had gotten seriously hurt and it was not the creature as Wersk had thought, or was it? Shrugging helplessly, Oskar continued to spill his tale hoping Gwendolyn would let him disappear and concoct some story that did not involve him.

"Well, they saw him. The creature and Wersk decided to ambush him-it? It was Wersk who shot him. Skal had a spear he took from Kettil's hearth and, well, chased him off." The man on Arn's shoulder shifted and groaned weakly. "Please, please, don't tell Wersk? He went after Durin when Durin screamed Wersk had killed someone. Broke his finger." The boy was sweating and realizing he spoke far too freely Oskar clammed up. Looking pleadingly at Gwendolyn as he considered if slipping into the brush and disappearing would be of any use.