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  • Old Guild Username: Nuada
  • Joined: 10 yrs ago
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    1. Nuada 10 yrs ago

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@HeySuess

I'm interested in this plot

[Vampire Horror/Cyberpunk] With their power uncontested for thousands of years, vampires rule humanity from the shadows, using them as pawns and cattle in their sadistic game. Many organizations have tried, and failed, to fight the vampires effectively, until one organization, after centuries of planning, information gathering and investment in research and development, makes breakthroughs in cybernetics that allow a human to have a fair chance of fighting individual vampires. The organization's first operation with this technology is the revenge killing against a specific vampire... If you can't stand Twilight, you'll enjoy this.


And this one too:

[Modern Fantasy] Magic returns to the world after a long slumber, and an unprepared world freaks out. Two magic users have to make their way through an altered social landscape while keeping their secrets.


But of the two, the vampire plot seems nore interesting. If you're still looking for someone to RP with, let me know :) Thanks
Wow four... Well, just let me know :) Thanks
Send me a PM if this is still open :) thanks
In Fated 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
No problem :) I'll keep checking the site :)
In Fated 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Hunter

The High Council was older than its white-haired members. It was formed over a hundred years ago to serve as the king’s advisors and trusted allies. It was composed of the lords of the four most influential houses in Westlands. Their power and wealth was borne from the fact that the King chose them to be among the privileged member of the High Council. However, a position in the High Council was not permanent. It was all dependent on the ruling monarch’s whim.

Hunter thought that there was therefore no reason for the old men of the High Council not to take advantage of the King’s last proclamation.

The assassin stood amidst the crowd of peasants before a well-dressed noble. The man was standing on a platform with knights in polished armors at his back. He was reading a copy of what Lord Hallowgem had been signing the morning that the lord sent his assassin away on a mission. This meant that the head start was over and everyone who was ambitious enough to take the throne would be on the move.

He waited until the messenger dismissed the crowd. He walked with them, senses alert, and listened to every conversation within earshot. It was a good time to gather information, because the people would be brainstorming what they knew about the legend.

That night, Hunter sat with middle class men inside the Twin Head Pub. It was not the best place to spend the night after a full day of research, but he was not yet done with research. He learned that men were more cooperative when possessed with the spirit of alcohol. This was why he had been the one paying for the food and drink of his new found friends.

Lilliana

Lilliana fell off her perch on the log. Her bottom hurt, possibly bruising, and she scraped her palm against the bark of the tree. If she landed the wrong way, she could have broken a bone. On the other hand, the red-haired woman fell from the sky. Lilliana’s gaze lifted to the clear blue sky spread above the leaves of the trees then back down to the woman who had affirmed that she was fine.

“You fell from the sky,” she said, just barely a whisper. Her heart was hammering in her chest from the shock of her fall and this stranger’s. There was much difference between her fallen log and the sky. She was hurting, this red-haired woman should be too.

Sensing that she was gaping at the stranger, Lilliana took a steadying breath, brushed dirt from her skirt, and lifted her chin high. “I am sure there is a good explanation for all of these,” she said in her imperious voice. “You are in our property, my lady, in Bromwich. My name is Lilliana Ironsmith. I am afraid you are trespassing in our territory.” It was not their territory, of course. She was not that rich as to own the woods. “However, if you would tell me where you are from, and,” she looked the stranger over, from her read head to her toes, then back to her head again. “And what are you wearing? Did you need a tailor? My mother knows excellent tailors that she may introduce to your mother. And – and I am blabbering, am I not?”

She sighed and bent down to pick up her book. The pages were soiled, but thankfully the letters were still readable. “I cannot believe what I saw. You fell from the sky, miss, and it is just not possible.”
In Fated 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Hunter

The man was more than angry he was enraged – outrageously enraged that his ears were red. Lord Thomas Hallowgem, King Edward’s brother-in-law and most trusted advisor, sat behind his desk, grudgingly signing papers. He lifted his gray head when the assassin entered the room and looked at him as if he was just another bothersome child instead of the assassin that he himself summoned to his study. Lord Thomas didn’t bother to mask the frustration he was feeling, he simply let it crumple his already wrinkled face and gestured for Hunter to take a seat.

Truth be told, Hunter would rather be chained inside enemy territory, interrogated by those who had perfected the art of torture, than be sitting in the same room as the late queen’s brother. Lord Thomas Hallowgem was not a pleasant man in general, more so when his face was red with fury.

Not that he was afraid of the man. Although stripped of all his weapons, Hunter could kill Lord Thomas with his bare hands if he thought it beneficial. But the lord was Hunter’s patron, which therefore exempts Hallowgem from the assassin’s whim.

“You are the brightest of Mooton’s boys,” said Hallowgem.

Perhaps, because Hunter already had an idea what was making this man so mad. Nevertheless, he kept his face straight and nodded without a word. He learned that he was more formidable looking that way and that people responded positively with fear. Sometimes even Hallowgem seemed afraid of him, but not that morning.

“I have a special assignment for you, Hunter Pyne. An assignment that will land you a position, a title, and a land should you succeed,” the older man continued. His voice was calm when he spoke and some of the lines that denoted his anger seemed to disappear. He had placed down all his papers and was instead seemed fully interested in memorizing the face of his assassin, who still spoke neither a word nor showed any emotion in his presence. “Have you heard of the artifact called ‘Thief of Time’?”

Hunter answered truthfully. “I have, on occasions, heard of it when I was a boy learning about the culture and lore of Westlands.”

Hallowgem leaned back on his chair and clasped his hands together on his stomach. The man was old enough to be Hunter’s father, but Thomas Hallowgem was a lean man with an almost flat stomach and straight back that could only be from years of discipline in the military. “Good to hear that Gerrad takes care of his boys’ education as much as their training. Now, I want you to bring back the Thief of Time for me, Hunter.”

Bring it back? Did the old man hit his head? Hunter cleared his throat. He was not used to questioning authority, but bringing back a fabled artifact was insane. He was an assassin not a treasure hunter. Perhaps Hallowgem had been wrong to summon Hunter in the room. “With all due respect, my lord, there is no evidences” the assassin started slowly, choosing his words as they came out of his mouth. “That such an artifact exists. I recommend consulting a scholar to research the possibility that it is real.”
Hunter expected a harsh rebuke from his superior, but other than the burrowing together of Lord Hallowgem’s brows, there was nothing. “That is a viable first step. I am giving you only until the first snow falls to the earth to bring me the artifact. If not, it shall be your head that will be brought to my feet,” the lord said.

He would want to see the men that Thomas would send try to take his head from his shoulder. If it was another man he was talking to, Hunter would have snorted at the idea.

“The person who will return the artifact to the castle shall be crowned the king.” Hallowgem showed the document that he was signing with a snarl. “This is the last decree of our late King Edward. The high council supports and shall enforce it. Once the edict is out every man – highborn and peasant – shall vie for the throne, but none is more fitting than I to sit on it. I am giving you a head start by telling you the information in advance. I expect to have the artifact before the first day of winter.” He leveled Hunter with a cold gaze, a silent threat saying that Hunter could not think about taking the throne for himself.

“I understand, your highness,” he said after a short pause.

Hunter was granted funds and all the resources he would need to find the artifact. He left the castle early the following day and started riding disguised as a young heir of a lord disguising as a peasant.

Lilliana

It had not yet been a week since King Edward passed away and the whole kingdom was still in mourning. Suddenly black was very fashionable. Even in a place as far away from the capital as the province of Larton, one could feel the heavy atmosphere brought about by the loss of a well loved leader. At least Lilliana felt the lingering grief in her solitude.

That day was the day that the Westlands would lay their king down to his final resting place. Her father and brothers together with her mother went into the capital to pay their last respects to the late king. Lilliana had been left behind, not of her own will, of course. Sometimes she wondered whether or not she was a daughter borne of her parents’ flesh and blood. Not that she neither look like her parents nor her siblings, but because her parents treated her differently from her brothers when the only real difference was that she was a girl.

The young woman sat on a fallen tree trunk with moss softening its bark in the middle of a clearing. Her dress would be ruined and her mother would not approve of her sulking alone in the woods. Then again, her mother would not see her in a few days or even weeks so Lilliana didn’t care.

There was nothing to do inside the house and nobody to stop her from preventing her to do what she wanted to do. The woods were a lovely place, which she frequented with her brothers as a child, but as she grew older, her mother became strict when it comes to her daily itinerary.

As she sat there though, with her legs dangling over the edge and a book balanced on her lap, the sound of rushing air caught her attention. She looked up to rustling leaves, then higher towards the clear blue skies. Her eyes widened and she felt the sudden hammering of her heart on her chest as the sight of a bright ball of fire falling down from the sky towards… her.

Lilliana didn’t have time to react. Actually, she did, but fear and surprise stunned her where she sat. The ball descended fast and hit the ground with a sound she could only compare to a thunder clap. The earth shook and she fell off the tree trunk. Curiosity pushed her to look into what fell off the sky.

“A woman?” she asked more to herself than to anybody else. Still shaky, she got to her feet and cocked her head to the side. A woman was indeed at the center of the dent on the ground.

“Are you alright?” she called out. But in her mind, she kept on thinking how could the anybody be alright after falling off the sky?
In Witch Hunt 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Dawn
Fingers of light reached out into the dark gloomy night, paving the way for the brand new day. The sun was taking a peek from the east behind the mountains. Dawn sat on her bed watching from the tall glass windows as the sky changed its hue while sipping hot tea that one of the servants served for her.

She ought to be tired from the long journey to the capital, but the woman had a restless night. It was not because her accommodations were not comfortable. On the contrary, Dawn had never before slept in a more luxurious room, not even when her father was still a high-ranking official. She was given a spacious room with a view of the city. The queen sized canopy bed resting atop a raised platform in the middle of the room was her favorite, second only was the soft carpet beneath the bed, which made her toes feel warm. She wiggled them and sighed.

Did Prince Jan mean what he said? Would he really pull some strings to get her to join the hunting party? There was no assurance that a man like him would be true to his word, and yet Dawn found herself expecting. She had her breakfast in her room early, dressed herself in a simple riding dress, and braided her hair to keep it out of her eyes. With all of these out of the way, she sat on her bed as the golden light of the sun crept from the mountain tops to the capital.

It wasn’t long before somebody knocked on her door. Expecting it to be a servant, she softly encouraged the person to come in.

A young man dressed as a servant stood at her door. “My lady,” he said, his voice lacked the confidence of those of a highborn boy. “His highness, Prince Jan Leon, requests for your presence in his private apartments,” the servant said.

Dawn raised a brow. She placed down the cup she was holding and sat on one of the upholstered chairs in the room to lace up her boots. “Did his highness tell you what he may need from me?”

The servant caught his breath. He was afraid of the prince, thoughts of death and the undead floated in his mind and reached his face. Dawn was in his head though, gently teasing out information that she may be able to use. Unfortunately, there was none. This man was not close to either the princes. What she was certain, though, was that he was afraid of Jan Leon and would not hesitate to resort to force if she declined his polite invitation. He did not want to offend or disappoint his prince.

“Alright, then,” Dawn said under her breath as she straightened up and walked to the door. The young man failed to give her an answer so she continued, “Lead me to your prince.”

“It will be my pleasure,” he answered, relief flooding his head.

Jan’s apartment was as she remembered it – tidy despite the number of trinkets and tools. The servant led her into the workshop and made her sit on a sofa while he called Jan Leon. Dawn, on the other hand, learned that the servant’s name was Jude and that he was not often called by the prince to help him in any way. The prince was capable of taking care of himself, unlike his brother who required assistance.

“Your highness,” he said as Jan strode into the room.

Dawn got to her feet and curtsied low. “Is there something that I can help you with today, your highness?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“I have also brought a change of clothes as you have required,” added the servant presenting the contents of the bag he carried. Dawn saw a servant’s tunic and vest and a pair of trousers. It was a smaller size than what Jude was wearing. Perhaps it belonged to a boy.

Sighart

Sighart was up before the sun. He had to finish reading reports that he missed the day before, because he expected to have very little time to read when he got back from the trip. These trips usually lasted until the afternoon, depending on the weather. Lunch would be served in a temporary camp that the servants had probably already set up in the woods. He always looked forward to the hunting season, but the crown prince was a bit less excited by the prospect of wasting time killing dangerous animals. There was real work to be done and very little precious time to have everything completed. For instance, the occurrence of crime had increased in the last few days. He attributed it to the temporary increase in the population in the city in anticipation of the coming festivities.

Being the heir was more than the popularity and the power. A huge amount of responsibility rested on his shoulder. He may not be the one making the decisions yet, but his opinion was expected and often criticized by the emperor. None that he did seemed sufficient for the old man. Sig was always lacking, always not the heir his father had always dreamed of. He wondered if his father secretly wished that the heir was Jan Leon instead of Sighart. Jan was a powerful mage, feared by many because of his exploits in Galorien.

A knock at the door of his study pulled him off of his musings. The prince raised his blonde head and called for the person to come in. “Your horse has already been prepared, sire,” said the servant.

“Thank you, Davion.” Sig placed the papers he was reading down on the table beside a plate of untouched breakfast. He got to his feet and prepared to leave the room. That morning, he chose to wear light clothing and leather armor over his chest, a pair of dark colored trousers tucked inside his boots. He was putting on leather gauntlets as he continued speaking to Davion. “Please do not touch anything on this table, except for my breakfast. Make sure to relay that to the others.”

The servant acknowledged the command, bowed and watched his prince walk out of the room in long strides. One hand was in the pocket of his pants. Inside was the bead that Risey gave Sig. He was toying with it the whole morning, thinking over his plan for the night.

He arrived at the courtyard before most of the lords and his father. Sighart always had to arrive before his father, because tardiness was another trait that the old man just couldn’t tolerate.

“Good morning, your highness,” greeted the stable boy guiding Sig’s horse. It was a battle horse bred for speed and stamina, given to him as a gift by the Emperor. He stroked its neck when the boy led the horse to a stop before the prince.

“Thank you,” Sig said. He scanned the area for his brother, worried that their father might notice that his second son was missing. It was still early, but the Emperor had a habit of arriving before the agreed time. He turned to the servant, whose name he cannot really remember. “Has Jan arrived yet?”

The servant shook his head. “I have not seen Prince Jan this morning, sire.”

He nodded thoughtfully. Did Jan drunk a lot the night before? Sig couldn’t quite recall his brother getting drunk on the wine served in the castle. It was among his least favorite wines in the kingdom. “Can you please see to it that my brother is already awake?”

“Certainly, sire.” The servant bowed low then turned on his heels towards the direction of Jan’s apartment.
In Fated 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Yup. I agree with that. The assassin will pose as an ambitious nobleman's son, but the prince will know that he's lying. Maybe the assassin will also recognize the prince. Maybe what they have is a silent agreement between them that they will keep each other's secret as long as the other one is still useful. So they work together, but secretly doesn't trust each other.
In Fated 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Thanks! I'm glad you liked them :) Sorry for the giant picture.

We can have 2 separate scenarios, but they don't necessarily have to follow the same time frame until they are all about to meet. Will the price reveal his identity? I'm trying to think of a reason why the assassin and the prince would work together.
In Fated 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Here they are. Sorry it took me long.

Assassin
Hunter Pyne



His first memory was not of a mother's lullaby or a father's gentle guidance, but drab gray walls and strict instructions from a middle aged man who he later learned was Sir Gerrad Mooton, Lord of Rotherham and Commander of the Fifth Imperial Company. He was known by most as a noble knight, but to the King and his closest advisors, Sir Gerrad Mooton was something else, for he was the head of a subtle group whose sole purpose was to obey and eliminate without question.With the knight's superior skills in combat and rather questionable disciplinary means, he was able to place under his control five of the deadliest men who ever walked the Westlands.

Of the five, only Hunter was of questionable origins. Sir Gerrad told him that he was a bastard, that his mother was a maid and his father was a Barron. Neither of his parents wanted him so Sir Gerrad took him to give him a life that would serve the kingdom. He never mentioned the involvement of the King in how Hunter ended up in the knight's fortress, nor was there an explanation about the mark that ran from the left side of his lower back to his shoulder. Hunter just learned to accept that he would never get any answers. Although the youngest, he was always better than the others. He was quick to learn and seemed to thirst to be the best in everything -- from gambling, to drinking, to snapping a person's neck bare-handed.

He was never a serious kind of person, very much unlike those who took the same path as he did. Hunter almost always seemed carefree, but perhaps it was just his cover, because behind the carefree mask was a careful predator. He never hesitated to follow the orders of his superiors, never paused to think about the innocent lives he was about to end. He was the best of Gerrad's boys that way.

Young Maiden
Lilliana Ironsmith



Liliana was the only girl in a family with seven sons. She was the sixth child, meaning two more younger brothers came after her. That being said, she had always fought for what she thought was hers. Her father was an Earl's third son and her mother a wealthy merchant's daughter. Although they lived a life of semi-luxury, her mother drilled in her the duties of a woman. With his brothers being themselves - boys - she was expected to help in the "womanly" duties in keeping the house. She was a woman, her mother would always tell her, she should learn to make a home, should learn to submit to her future husband, and should always be patient with her brothers.

Lilliana was none of that. It might be her brothers' influence, but the girl had a stubborn streak in her. She preferred secretly joining her older brothers play with wooden swords, even train with them with steel. Her father would tolerate her, her brothers more so, but her mother strongly disapproved. What she wanted to be was not a wife to some rich and spoiled man, but an independent woman who could carry herself and her sword. A life of adventure was what she had always dreamed of, and home had become a prison for her.
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