You’ve seen him around a lot. Never up close, though. He’s always in the shadows, at the edges of the picture. But there’s something about him… he has a secret, you just know it. And you just might get a chance to find out what it is. Due to a series of extremely lucky coincidences, you end up running from the Queen’s Men (a sort of police force) with him. Maybe you can finally figure out just who he is… and what his connection to the Crimson Lord is.
Hello, and welcome to this story! Here are the rules/clarifying stuff:
This will be sort of fantasy, maybe a little mystery, set in a world with limited tech. There are basic cars for the rich, mostly. Weapons are mainly blades, though there are some simple guns (also usually for the rich).
This could be a romance if you want– I don’t care.
Try to keep the one-liners to a minimum, please!
Please be as active as you can! If something happens, just let me know.
Please have good grammar and all that.
I might ask for a writing sample and I reserve the right to say no.
If you have questions or ideas to add to the very loose plot, please tell me!
@amber_is_a_starchild
Heyo! Thanks for making another one :D
So do you want a writing sample then or a template?
You can do a writing sample if you want (or not, I don't really care), and a template if you want to as well. I'm going to give basic descriptions of both "him" and The Crimson Lord instead of a full template, just to make everything mysterious… insert mystery noises here
Alright, here are descriptions, and in the case of the Crimson Lord, a little of his reputation.
“Him”: He has light brown skin with warm undertones and wavy dark brown hair. He’s 6’2” tall and lean. His left eye is covered with a black eyepatch, and his visible eye is a teal color. His features are sharp and he has a slightly upturned nose.
The Crimson Lord: Not a lot of details are known, but he’s known to have dark hair and red eyes. He usually wears a dark red coat and a simple black mask with silver accents. He’s a ruthless murderer in most (rich and gods-fearing) people’s eyes and has killed a lot of people. He has a huge grudge against the Queen’s Men and the gods, though no one knows why. If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of his way.
Here's a simple template if you want! Feel free to add anything to it.
Name:
Age:
Gender/pronouns:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Personality:
Short background:
Other:
Wonderful, thank you! I'll have it filled in by the end of the day, sorry for the delay :)
Name: Dorota Solis
Age: 20
Gender/pronouns: Female, she/they
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance: a bronze skin tone with tawny eyes and golden blonde frizzy hair. She stands at about 5'10 with a curvy full figure.
Personality: she's a bubbly, outgoing and sharp woman. She's fierce and loyal and feisty, but emanates a kind of kindness that demands respect. She's tough as nails, determined to protect and defend those who need it.
Short background: three siblings, twin brother and two younger sisters. She hasn't seen them in months, they're self sufficient with her brother as a blacksmith and her sisters farming. She works as a barmaid/waitress and petty thief, sending home whatever she can, but wants with all her heart to be a soldier of some brand.
Other:
(Yeah, I like her! I'll post a starter soon.)
The Queen's Men were supposed to protect everyone and make sure the city was safe. Of course, "everyone" actually meant people who were rich, people who actually liked the gods, or both. He was not any of those. So, the Queen's Men basically hated him. Then again, he wasn't exactly a law-abiding citizen. It wasn't technically his fault– he had to make money somehow, and stealing from the rich, gods-fearing people was his favorite way. It usually got him in loads of trouble, but it was fun. He peeked around a corner, eyes scanning the street. A group of Queen's Men was marching down the street, their evil, piercing eyes looking every which way. He ducked back into the alley, back pressed against the dirty brick wall. All he had to do was wait for them to pass, and he would be home free. As long as they didn't–
"There he is!" A voice cut through his thoughts, making him jump. He glanced back into the street, only to see the entire group of Queen's Men starting straight at him.
"Well, shit." He turned and sprinted down the alleyway, the shouts of the Queen's Men echoing after him. After a few turns, he burst out into a busy street. Perfect. He slowed to a walk and moved through the crowd, stopping to lean against a wall behind a cart. Hopefully, they wouldn't see him there.
Dorota turned away from the men she'd just been talking to and slipped into the crowded street, her empty pockets begging for whatever valuable scraps she was about to find.
Just as she clinched a silver chain from a woman's wrist, she stopped dead in her tracks. An aggressive-looking troop of the Queen's Men were running towards the crowd, but Dorota couldn't find the one they were after. She circled around a clump of merchants to find a disheveled, breathless young man nearly skid to a stop by the baker's cart– the pieces weren't hard to connect. She kept her distance as the Men approached, grabbing a handful of coins from a pastor's pockets in passing.
The Queen's Men were coming towards him, but not in a way that implied they knew where he was. It looked more like they were just trying to seem like they knew what they were doing. He lowered his eyes to the ground as one of them glanced towards him, then looked up again. They were almost past him now. Just a few more steps and he could slip away in the opposite direction. Maybe he could get a drink, calm his nerves a bit.
"Excuse me, sirs?" A voice rose above the dull murmur of the crowd, directed at the Queen's Men. "If you're looking for a young man in an eyepatch, he's right there." A middle-aged man had spoken, probably one of those people who have excessively large houses and have an "I love the gods" tattoo. Although from the look of him, he probably didn't have a tattoo. The focus of the Queen's Men turned in unison towards the young man, who swore under his breath.
"Are you kidding me?" He growled, glancing left and right. Which way to go? Which way wouldn't lead to him getting arrested for the billionth time?
Dorota caught the entire exchange. She knew how stupid it would be to help this man when she could slip away easily. She could back away before the Men spotted her and let the outed criminal be caught for what was probably not the first time.
She barely let herself finish the thought before she found herself sprinting towards the carriage. She ran past the troops of soldiers and seized the criminal’s man, dragging him behind her. They were running for the alley she knew branched off into enough streets that it’d give them a head start.
He was so distracted by trying to think of a plan and keeping an eye on the Queen's Men that he didn't really pay attention to anything else. By the stars, those Queen's Men looked like sharks, with their dead eyes and predatory smiles. It was almost past time to make a decision, and he still had no idea what to do. At precisely the moment when he resigned himself to getting arrested and somehow breaking out, a figure with frizzy blonde hair burst out of the crowd, grabbed him, and pulled him after them. Normally, he would have been extremely annoyed, but right now, the help was quite welcome. Except for the running part, but how else would they get out of there? He wanted to ask this mysterious person who they were, and more importantly, why they had risked the wrath of the Queen's Men to help him, but he couldn't muster up the breath. And it was not the time for such questions. Maybe after they'd gotten away.
Dorota was fairly experienced in running from the authorities and kept up a sprint as they veered off into a narrow, uneven alley. With the soldiers close on their heels they took the third right onto another even narrower street.
Dorota didn't slow as they approached a rickety wooden shopfront "Stairs, watch out!" she called behind her as she shouldered open the door and rushed down the staircase.
She finally slowed to a speedwalk as the staircase widened into a large, circular marketplace. Weaving through bustling merchants and gaping children, she made for a fabric stand, waving at its owner. With the stranger's hand still clutched in her own the fabric seller shrouded them both in headscarves, automatically engaging in animated pointless chatter. Dorota nodded along, gesturing at the stranger to do the same.
He hadn't gotten enough time to fully recover, and by the time they reached the stairs, his breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. His legs weren't doing too well either, and he was relieved– no, beyond relieved– when his strange rescuer finally stopped. After a glance over at the woman, he started nodding along with her.
"What…" He gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Who… why?" Even though this probably still wasn't the time, he wasn't about to be "rescued" by an undercover Queen's Man. Knowing more wouldn't really help, but it would make him feel better. And if his rescuer wasn't Queen's Men, she might be… someone else. Another one of his many enemies. There was a small chance she was just a random person, but he didn't think so.
The Queen’s Men marched right past them, barking orders at each other before splitting off in different directions.
It took Dorota a second to realize the stranger was talking to her. She slowed her breathing and glanced over at him, grinning.
« The thrill of the chase, huh? » she laughed breathlessly. « You’re welcome, by the way, but I’m not telling you my name unless you tell me yours. »
She shrugged the headscarf off, shaking her hair out.
He took a few more seconds to regain his breath, watching the Queen's Men out of the corner of his eye.
"Thank you," He finally managed, breath still slightly ragged. "I'm…" Would it be a good idea to tell this woman his name? After a couple of moments of deliberation, he decided it couldn't hurt. "I'm Adrian. Who are you and why did you help me?" His tone of voice wasn't as clipped as his words were, and even as he said them, he winced. Being rude to the person who saved him wasn't exactly the best idea. In an attempt to apologize without actually saying anything, Adrian gave her an apologetic smile.
Dorota looked Adrian up and down curiously. "You really should be more careful about those guards. They're ruthless, as I'm sure you know."
She turned her back on Adrian to thank the merchant, pressing a thin silver chain in his palm as payment. He nodded, smiled at them both, and backed away.
She faced Adrian again. "Dorota," she said brightly, extending her hand. "I figured might as help out the poor helpless thief."
"Yeah, I know," Adrian grumbled. "I got unlucky." The idea of this woman thinking that he was an incompetent thief was not what he wanted. There had been a series of increasingly terrible circumstances that had led to him sprinting though the city with the Queen's Men in his tail. "Ah, nice to meet ypu, Dorota. But I assure you, I am not a poor, helpless thief." His mouth twisted slightly at the thought. "I simply miscalculated," Adrian added, wanting to explain himself.
Dorota suppressed a grin, revelling in his bruised pride. « I assume you’re now going to explain to me the unique circumstances that led to you needing a woman’s help, » she predicted easily as she maintained unrelenting eye contact.
She crossed her arms, waiting for whatever explanation he was about to muster.
"Hmm…" Adrian stared down at her, slightly annoyed at how much she was enjoying this. "Let's just say a couple of friends distracted me." Of course, in this case "friends" really meant extremely annoying enemies, but he'd shared enough already. "Now, if you're done asking questions, I think I should go." Adrian's fingers grazed his neck and he flinched slightly when they touched metal instead of cloth. His medallion must have escaped when he was running. In what he hoped was a casual move, Adrian slipped the medallion under his shirt.
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