forum Guess who's bored and wants to RP??

Started February 10, 2020 by Deleted user

tune

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It's me!! I've got 3 characters, no plot ideas, and all night to mess around online.

Can I?

Totally! I'm down for pretty much anything, so do you have any ideas about what you'd like this to be?

I really like fantasy stuff.

Lol, me too. What kind of fantasy? Like, medieval inspired, urban, contemporary, etc?

I like medieval

Cool, any idea what kinda story you want to tell? Or should I try and grab some prompts

Well.. I want to be a Magician that works for a corrupt king, but she's bound to him because of… I don't know yet, but he's using her to wage war on other kingdoms.

oooh, sounds cool!! Do you want to be the mage or the evil king?

I want to be the mage if that's okay

Sure, sounds great! Do you want me to send a character sheet?

Yes please.

Name:
Age:
Sexuality:
Appearance (Link or a fairly detailed description please!):
Normal clothes:
Personality:
Backstory:
Other:

Name: Norabella
Age: 17
Sexuality: Straight.
Appearance (Link or a fairly detailed description please!): https://pin.it/ks4icvojfqkxx3
Normal clothes: Usually anything black.
Personality: Stubborn, and hardheaded. She has a bit of a temper and isn't afraid to talk back and stand up for herself. She has trouble showing her caring side. She's extremely strong, so most people like to stay on her good side. If she trust you though she will protect you with everything she has, she is secretly a romantic, but won't show that to anyone. She can be a bit spacey sometimes and likes to have fun when not working.
Backstory: Her "Mother" Was a famous witch, known her her love spells. She took down many powerful men with those. When people found out, they went on a witch hunt. But before they could find her she used dark magic and the body of a young girl to bring Nora to life. Her Mother was caught and killed. Her on the other hand wandered the streets for most her life.
Other: The hat she wears is her moms.
(Hope she is okay.)

(I quite like her!)
Name: Fiero Montasque
Age: Old (uses magic to keep himself young) but looks young
Sexuality: Demi
Appearance (Link or a fairly detailed description please!): https://www.pinterest.com/pin/184506915962667842/
Normal clothes: Loose ceremonial robes, usually with some sort of fur or gold/silver embroidery to help show off his status.
Personality: Completely and utterly in control at all times, he never relaxes enough to seem anything other than cool, calm, and collected. He's a schemer at heart– a chessplayer– constantly planning out every path he could take and exploring every available option. He usually comes off as dispassionate and cold, largely because he doesn't allow himself to focus on anything but expanding his empire and keeping power.
Backstory: He came to power after the rest of his family was killed in a brutal coup that left him orphaned, traumatized, and desperately clinging to every scrap of power he could get his hands on so he could make sure another overthrow would never happen
Other: a friend of the birds

Who's going to start?

I can, sorry I've been so on and off today!

Fiero paced the throne room, the click of his heels loud in the empty chamber. Anger was rising in him, hot and desperate as he tried to shove it back. How could anyone be so incompetent? He'd sent his soldiers out for a simple take, hardly even an errand.

There was a witch in his kingdom, one who needed to be shown her place. Not only had she been able to escape, she had burnt down damn near half the capital with her, leaving Fiero furious beneath his mask of calm. He needed more soldiers, better soldiers. Ones more equipped to deal with magic. Or, he thought, a grin spreading across his thin lips, perhaps… ones more magical themselves.

The idea tormented him once it had been formed, haunting him day and night until he penned his most famous decree. Witches were to be rounded up and brought to the capital for him to judge, where they would either be domed to endless backbreaking work in the labor camps or trained under him– forged into the perfect soldiers for his army.

(I love your writing!)
The sound of thundering foots steps stormed the streets. She knew they were after her, but it was unlikely they would catch her. One born purely of dark magic wouldn't be easy to chase down. The smell of the sea filled her nose. Atop a building, she stared down watching them tear through houses, yelling and screaming. She was thankful it was night, she blended easily. "Find her or all our heads will be rolling down the ends of the street!" The leader or at least who Nora thought to be the leader yelled. Sighing, she saw her warm breath it the cool air. "Well, this has been fun, but I'm leaving." No one was around to hear her, but she didn't care. Turning on her heels she ran and effortlessly jumped to another building. The orange and yellow flames dances in her eyes. Nora always like fire, it was beautiful but destructive. "Like he could ever catch me." She felt the the chase has been going on forever, but was never bored by it. Just as she was about to jump to another roof, something cold clasped her wrist and tugged on her. Losing her balance, Nora fell to the concrete roof hitting her head. Ignoring the pain she turned and again, more coldness on her other wrist. "Don't struggle, I know much about you. I'll be getting a lot of money from you." Nora laughed as she snapped her fingers, she was surprised to see nothing happened. What are these things? Her eyes grew wide as she looked up at the mysterious figure. He was a magician user as well. But how did he get his hands on a witch weapon like this? Only a few existing, a weapon used to hunt down Witches for centuries, they null magic, but Nora thought that they were all hidden. "Let's go."

(Thanks!)

Fiero had been pacing more and more often as of late. He got plenty of witches, all talented in their own ways, all begging him to take them in, and yet none had been what he needed. They were at war now; new blood was swiftly becoming more of a need than a desire and still his hunters brought back the weakest. He'd had to drain the armory just to give them the tools they needed to hunt slightly more dangerous prey and they hadn't managed to bring anyone with anything close to his skill in.

A knock on the door stopped him in his tracks so he sat, lazily perched on the throne with his crown tilted just so. He looked ruffled, young, less calculating king and more recently promoted prince. In fact, he had just staged his death– a not unfamiliar cycle– and presented himself as his own son. Yet another identical boy in a long line of kings.

"Come in, and make it quick Mikhail." He knew the mercenaries by footsteps alone, and even if he hadn't Mikhail would've been easy to identify by the thunderous thump of his steps. He said caught something really special. Fiero was skeptical.

Nora kept her head down, fury burning in her eyes. How could I get caught? Going back to the scene many times, seeing if she made a mistake somehow. The two big doors open, and all she heard were her footsteps. Lifting her head just slightly, she saw many other Witches standing in the throne room. What are all of them doing here? Did he plan on killing them? Nora had many questions, but decided they weren't as important as getting out of here. "Your King," Her captor bowed before the King. Waiting a few seconds, he stood upright making sure his posture was just right. "I believe I found what you want. This here," He yanked on her chains, making her step forward. It was now she lifted her head and stared daggers at the King. "This is Nora, the dark Witch." Just then whispers arose from everyone. They have been rumors about her, some true, some not. "Yep that's me." She smiled looking around at all the people cowering in her presence. None would look her in the eyes. They must not know that these chains are keeping her from using her magic. Pathetic.

Fiero watched with disinterest as the last witch spilled in, barely taking note of the dark hair breezing over her shoulders. She was a pretty thing, sure, but utterly unimpressive. That was, until Mikhail dragged her forward by the enchanted chain around her neck, the runes there not burning half as defiantly as the fire in his eyes.

He smirked, grin growing wider as she was introduced until it stretched across his face in some feral facsimile of a smile, entirely to wild to be sincere. This was just what he was waiting for, if she was the real deal. This was everything he needed. He met her eyes easily, gesturing for her to be brought forward so he could grab the collar around her throat and yank her down to her knees.

"Didn't anyone teach you manners, birdy?" There was a lilt in his voice, testing. Teasing. "You're supposed to kneel before your betters."

"I kneel before those who I respect, and you have not earned it." The words came like venom from a snake, her eyes not wavering from his. She was a proud Witch, one that bows before no king. Again the room went silent. If it wasn't for the chain around her neck, Nora would have burned this place down, with everyone in it. Even the Witches. She worked for herself and was not close to others like her, they gained their magic from many different ways, while Nora was pure dark magic. Blackness coursed through her veins. "Now, if it is my power you want, I won't give it to you." She already knew that's what he wanted, that's all anyone wanted from her. Foreign words escaped her mouth, the chain began to shake, but because of it's powerful binding magic it caused her a lot of pain, and you could see it. A few seconds and she couldn't do anymore, though she was close. "Damn this thing." With the kings grip on her she couldn't turn and try to get to the guy with key. Sweat dripped down her face, but still looked the king in the eyes. Wavering meant he won, and she was going to give him that satisfaction of that.

Fiero was already satisfied. She was a feisty thing, this dark witch, but not experienced enough to be a threat to him. Not yet. "You're not a fool birdy, you know you'll be a good tool for me. I've got this lovely collar around your neck after all." He tapped the metal, listening to the cheerful jingle of the chain links clinking together with something like pride. He had made this, in his younger days. It was fulfilling to know that even someone as feared as the black witch couldn't break the bonds yet. "You can feel my power in it, I can tell. Do you really think you can oppose me? I could kill you right now without breaking a sweat and nobody would even bother to stop me. Nobody would even care that you were gone." He'd linked his thumb in the collar, pulling her in close until they were only a hair's width apart and he could brush a lock of hair from her face. "So yes, I think you'll bow to me eventually. If only because you know I could break you."

"You're right your highness I have no family or friends, if you think you can kill me, do it. Show everyone how fearsome you can be." Nora rather be dead than be a dog to the king, if he was so powerful than he should be able to do anything he wanted. Unless, he wasn't as powerful as he makes himself out to be. She's heard stories of the Son of the previous King. "Choke the life out of this lifeless body." She then smiled and did the same gesture as him, sweeping a hair out of his face. "Your highness." She repeated. Nora was tempted to close the gap and catch him off guard with a kiss, but then she really would be put to death. Though she hated to admit it, He was extremely handsome.

"Now why would I do that when I could have so much making you beg for it first?" He leaned forward, letting his lips graze hers, so very close to touching. It would be so easy to show her what hundreds of years of cultivated study could do, but he refrained. It was best to make her underestimate him, doubt his power. That was always how he won in the end, not through magic or steel but through the simple game of misdirection.

His hand trailed down her temple, resting lightly on her cheek. He let himself stroke her skin gently, enjoying the softness of it. The warmth. How long had it been since he'd touched another person in a way that was anything other than strictly perfunctory? "I see you looking at me, birdy. You despise me but you want this body– tell me, do you really think I'd deny you one stolen kiss?"