forum And God knows (closed)

Started March 18, 2023 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

And God knows, I'm not dying but I bleed now
And God knows, it's the only way to heal now
With all the blood I lost with you
It drowns the love I thought I knew

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A decades long war between two kingdom had caused poverty and fear and death of thousands. Each kingdom had their own versions of war, the truth hidden behind. Neither king would negotiate. Neither king would end the war. The people were beginning to loose faith in their monarchs. Those with the means had begun to fled and yet, neither king were willing to put an end to the slaughter.

Alora Omarie thought she was untouchable. The only daughter of the king, she was doted on and beloved. She was a skilled warrior and skilled with her magic. Despite the raging war, she felt like she was on top of the world. Until it all came crashing down when her chosen fiancée was murdered. The love of her life, gone in a blink of an eye. Her world turned to ice, her body and mind numb. She was driven by nothing but the urge to murder the fae that killed her lover. And she would stop at nothing.
That is, until a situation arrives that puts her and her lover's killer in an unfortunate situation where they have to rely on one another for their own survival. Unbeknownst to her, her company was the enemy king. The young male that came to the crown entirely too soon, as her own father had his parents killed.

Will they be able to get along to survive? Can they stop the war? Can they stop themselves from falling in love?

---

Tropes: enemies to lover, one bed, "who did this to you?", morally gray, would end the world to save you.

This is a medieval fantasy rp. This a bit more rated r for gore, language, and sexual content. I am looking for longer replies and at least one reply a day. I'm looking for someone to play my enemy king. Lmk if you're interest.

(You're good. I've just come back on after like a 4 month hiatus at least. And I work alot, especially on weekends so I won't always be on but I'll be able to respond at least early in the morning or later at night. So I'm totally good with that.
And that works for me for the king. I can tweak the story line to match the hallucinations, though my character will probably have a few choice words about him being a bit crazy as long as he doesn't get too offended.)

Name:
Age:
Magic:
Weapons:
Apperance:
Personality:
Other:

(Here he is. If I need to adjust anything, just let me know)

---

Name: Myahil

Age: Many millennia (probably around 3,000-5,000 years old, but his exact age is currently undetermined). He looks to be in his late 20’s.

Magic: He’s a seer, though he’s unaware of it, and he occasionally has prophetic visions. Unfortunately, he can’t tell if he’s having a vision or a hallucination, so he often ignores it until the prophesied event happens.

—He can unconsciously summon a green force field inches away from him. It shields him from incoming attacks. Though, it isn’t very strong, and will break down if it’s constantly attacked.

—He has innate Earth elemental magic that is especially useful for building and sculpting. The Rhinacules call it Architecture Magic, and use it to build cities that are subtle aboveground, but magnificent underground.

—Because of a divine pact he made long ago, he’s technically immortal, but the pact came with the cost of an incurable poison that will take many more millennia to finally kill him.

—He carries a magical necklace made of peridot pearls with an onyx pendant in the shape of a female Hercules Beetle. It is a container for the spirit of Myahil’s beloved first wife, Cecelia, so that she can guide him. It was a gift after Myahil made the divine pact, as he’d lost Cecilia in the events leading up to the pact being made. She tries to keep him in check as best she can, but she also tries to encourage him to enjoy life, even if that includes marrying another woman.

Weapons: He always carries a Rhinacules Horn Blade, if not two. It’s a longsword with several hooked points along the back edge, with strange beetle carvings etched into a softly green glowing blade. The hooks can grab onto anything, and will not let go unless the wielder it is attuned to commands them to release. It is a blade made only by the Rhinacules race, as no one can figure out how to replicate its abilities.

Appearance: 5’8”, 173 lbs, amber eyes (one or both occasionally turn white if he has a vision, loses reality, or falls unconscious). A thick mane of straight, black hair that hangs nearly to his hips. Tan skin on most of his body, except his torso where he has a thin, pale olive colored exoskeletal ‘shell’ that is very difficult to damage/puncture. The shell also extends down his arms, stopping just before his elbows. Lean, athletic body with strong shoulders and long legs. He has translucent pale green blood, and his tears are blood. He wears an ankle-length black robe and has a dark green cloak (no hood). On his left wrist are spidery green veins that reached almost to his elbow. These veins are painful to touch, and it’s the poison from the divine pact.

Personality: He’s generally mellow and respectful, with a gentlemanly air about him. He is honest, passionate, cunning, and fearless, and he is a brilliant strategist/tactician. He’s also very stubborn, has a fiery temper, and can be erratic at times. He’s prone to mood swings, but he can also seem very detached or absent-minded at times, like he’s not even aware of the world around him.

Other: He is of the race known as Rhinacules. They are insectile shapeshifters that can morph between their ‘human’ form or their ‘full’ form, which is a house-sized Hercules Beetle (Myahil’s form is a dark olive colored beetle).

—Myahil is technically the First Rhinacules, as he was the one who made a divine pact with his clan’s god to save them from annihilation (the god is also called Rhinacules, and the race named themselves after him).

—He hallucinates often, and can only sometimes tell if he’s hallucinating or not. He also occasionally blurts out whatever is in his head, even when these outbursts are completely out of context to the entire situation (this typically happens more when he’s distressed, but can also signal that he’s having a vision without realizing it).

—He is a fast runner, and has excellent skills with swords and bows. He’s also a good architect.

—Here’s a Heroforge pic. It’s not exact, but it’s close enough.

—Pic of a Hercules Beetle, for reference.

Name: Alora Omarie
Age: She's roughly 150 years old, however she resembles a woman in her early twenties.
Magic: Alora is a powerful water fae. She's mastered the fete of control the water in one's body, a power few could do. And a power she rarely used. It was a violation to do such a thing and she only used it on the worst of those. She was gifted healing magic as well, though not as strong as her water magic. She could heal injuries that weren't life threatening, anything more severe, she could provide enough for them to hold on until they could reach a skilled healer.
Weapons: She has a sharp set of throwing knives that she was highly skilled in. She was dealt accurate more than a few feet away. She dabbled in a few other things, such as a long bow and short swords. Her hand to hand wasn't the strongest and she relied on her magic perhaps a little too heavily.
Apperance: Alora stands about five foot six. Her body is sculpted and muscular due to years of training. She has bright red hair that hangs down her back. She has forrest green eyes with a brown ring. Soft freckles scatter across her nose and cheeks. There are few scars scattered on her, some from childhood adventures and others from war.
Personality: Alora used to be full of love and kindness. She loved and laughed and lived life to its fullest. That was, until, her lover was killed traveling to her. Every since, she had been full of rage. First, it was hot, burning rage. She went on a rampant, killing anything in her path. Over the years, it had calmed to an icy rage. Her heart had turned to stone. There was no love or kindness left in her body. Only a need for revenge. And she would get it.
Other: She's the only daughter of nine children. They were born over several centuries, many of the children fully developed before the next was born. Most of them lived separate lives from each other, none of them were very close. As the only girl, she was the odd one out.

For as long as she could remember, Avollone had been at war. There was a kingdom across the waters that planned to invade. Nomads had gathered in the woods and planned to loot. Uprisings in the outskirts villages were putting them at risk. There were times of peace, of course, but the years seemed to blend together and war was dominant. This was different, however. They had never had a war last so long, be so devastating, with another kingdom. Hundreds of thousands were dead and more were on the way. Famine and poverty rose. Boys as young as twelve were whisked to join the war. Child soldiers were on the rise. The front was a graveyard. Piles of bodies. A line that barely moved either way. Devastating. But it wasn't until Alora lost her lover a few years back that she truly understood the consequences of war. Being the only daughter of nine children, the king and queen doted on her and sheltered her. While she was a fierce and skilled warrior, she always felt untouchable. Until she was and her beloved was gone. She had gone on a rampage. Tearing through villages, killing anyone in her way. She swore she would get revenge if it was the last thing she did. It would be the last thing did. She would get revenge on her poor sweet lover and then she would join him in the afterworld, but only until his killers were long dead. Her burning rage had calmed to icy anger. She had grown cold, cruel, and unforgiving. Nothing could bring her back. Nothing could, or could it?
Alora was following a lead. With a handful of her most skilled warriors, they had left on another mission. One of her little rats in an outlying village had a tip for her. It was too dangerous to say over a letter, a messenger raven could easily be intercepted. So she made her way to the village with four of her best warriors. Entering the small workshop where he worked, the couple of customers scattered out of the shop. They knew who she was with her flaming hair. They knew what she would do should they get in her way. "What do you have for me little rat?" She leaned against the counter, a menacing smile on her lips.
He slipped her a sheet of paper. She opened it, read it, closed the paper and it disintegrated. A self-destructing paper that destroyed itself when the reader had finished with it. A helpful charm when dabbling in secrets. "You have been most helpful." She dropped some coins on the counter and she was out of the shop as quickly as she came. There were rumors that the man she was looking for was traveling in a small group following the Vasteel river. Just a few miles from where they were. Alora had picked off the men that were responsible for her lover's death over the years but this one man was impossible to find. She had no name, no title, no rank. Only that his blood ran green. She had been on the hunt, bleeding those who were pale enough but it was never them. Never.
Their small company vanished into the woods. The river was easy to find. The man, however, was not. Hours were spent tracking down the party. Hours were spent planning, and scheming what they would do when they found them.
However, when they finally did catch up to their suspected killer and his party, a shitstorm rained down on them. Just as the weapons were drawn, the earth began to quake. Roots shot out of the ground. The river overflowed and morphed into wolves. The world went dark.
"You will not come into my home and cause bloodshed. My land is sacred and you will not sour it. You have fought long enough. Now it is time for it to end. You will be tied together until peace is brought. You cannot live without the other." The voice of the witch of the woods rang out. A fairytale told to calm rebellious children. A tale Alora hadn't believed real.
When she woke, her company was gone. There was no trace. No blood, nothing left to say they were there. She lying face down on the ground, her body soaked to the bone. She pushed herself up weakly only her hands. The world was spinning, spinning, until finally it stabilized. Looking around she saw nothing but trees as far as the eye could see, and… And a man lying unconscious from her. The man she had been tracking. She reached for a weapon only to find she had none on her. She found nothing but a mark on her wrist, a mark that bound their souls together.

(You’re fine. I had to work this morning, so it was probably a good thing this didn’t start last night, lol. And, then being on and off busy with other things during the day, lol)
(Also, just to clarify on something, I had meant that Myahil has ‘Caucasian white’, not ‘white as a ghost’ skin. That was my bad for not being more specific. But… maybe this could actually be worked into the plot, where maybe there had been a mistake, or misinterpretation, or something similar, in the information Alora had gotten, which led to her searching for the wrong skin tone. If you want to, I’m casual either way)
(And, I also forgot that his shell extends down his arms to his elbows. So, that’s also my bad, and I’ll fix that in a minute. It’s a minor detail though)

---

The Kingdom of Clan Mya, a place renown for being the homeland of the strange folk called the Rhinacules, had long been ruled by Myahil, supposedly the first of the Rhinacules. To the suffering common folk, and even the enemy kingdom of Avollone, Myahil was rumored to be barely more than a tyrannical warlord, a conqueror with his eyes set solely on Avollone.

Sure, the rumors were true, except for the fact that they neglected to mention many details about Myahil, particularly regarding his intellect and motives. He didn’t just charge into battle without plans and contingencies. He also wasn’t really concerned about conquering Avollone, though it would be a nice bonus to his actual goal, that of tormenting the royal family of Avollone before destroying them entirely. After all, the king had ordered the attack that long ago killed Myahil’s parents, leaving him an orphan child, and nearly destroyed his clan. It would be the perfect retribution.

In the past few years, Myahil had gained interest in Alora, the lone princess of the Omarie family. Being a young woman of direct relation to the monarchs that Myahil so hated, she could easily grow into a threat, whether through battle or by continuing the bloodline. And, Myahil couldn’t allow that. So, he’d had her beloved killed. In fact, he’d been the one to strike the killing blow.

Unfortunately, it inspired Alora to become a threat by battle. She’d cost him many soldiers and many assassins in her search for him. It was aggravating, but somehow intriguing as well. But, he couldn’t afford to have her rising to Queen. So, he had one of the spies he’d sent to watch her send a little note to one of her spies, detailing his whereabouts. He would give her what she wanted, but he planned to leave alive, and with Omarie blood on his blade.

Myahil and six of his best guards were following the river called Vasteel. They were aware of the land governed by the locally named ‘witch of the woods’, an entity that Myahil and his folk preferred to call a nature goddess, but he didn’t plan on staying within the land. He had set up an ambush site a good ways outside of the supposed borders of the witch’s land, both to challenge Alora and to keep the witch at bay.

His plan backfired though when his quarry found him a few hours too early. Myahil had hoped this outcome wouldn’t happen, but it had, and she was too close for most of his contingencies to work. That didn’t bode well. He considered running, just so he could exit the witch’s land before a fight actually began. Unfortunately, his guards, who hadn’t believed his earlier claims of an actual goddess living in the woods, were in the mood for a fight, not an ambush.

And so, his guards drew swords and charged at their enemy. Myahil also drew his sword, but he did not run, nor did he really want to use his sword. Not yet. Not under her gaze.

It was too late though, and the witch, or goddess, whichever she was, didn’t hesitate. The land became literally alive, forming blockades and beasts as easily as if they had been there all along. Then, her words.

‘You have fought long enough.’

‘You will be tied together until peace is brought. You cannot live without the other.’

The witch’s words reminded him of the day he’d made a pact with his god, Rhinacules. The presence. The power. The outcome. Then… nothing.

A nagging pain woke him, and Myahil realized that he was laying on his left arm. Gingerly, he rolled over and onto his knees, tenderizing his shaky left arm, trying hard not to grimace. He didn’t even notice that he was dripping wet as his eyes quickly scanned the area, finding only untouched landscape and her. Alora Omarie. No one else, not his guards, not hers, not even their weapons, just the two of them. And, on his right wrist, he had an identical mark to the one on Alora’s wrist.

“Woe to those that anger the gods,”Myahil commented, his voice accented by subtle chirps and hisses. He then started to laugh, a sharp sound that was simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant.

He wasn’t quite sure why, but everything seemed so funny now. The witch goddess had bound him to his current nemesis. What better way to end him? To destroy Alora was to destroy himself. But, to try creating peace with those that killed his family… Myahil couldn’t see how it could be done.

After a long moment, Myahil quieted. He then eyed Alora in amusement.

“Well, had you been just a few hours slower, I might have been rid of you. But… that seems a moot point now. Particularly with the Nature Goddess around. Fools all my companions were. So, shall we leave this place, that we will not anger the lovely goddess further? Then, we can discuss how we wish to die.” And, get new weapons.

Myahil then chuckled before moving to stand, never turning away from Alora. He held his left arm against him, the veins still aching. They would settle down eventually, but for now, he’d have to be careful, and keep an eye on Alora.

Alora looked at the man in front of her incredulously. This was no laughing matter. This was not funny and yet here he was, giggling to himself as if they were on a picnic and she had cracked a joke. She wanted to bury a knife in his head if only to make him stop, only she didn't have her knives and his death meant her death. And she wasn't ready to die until she had exacted her revenge. His following words only seemed to confirm the thought in her head. It was all a setup. The tip was false to lure her into the woods and this was not the man she was looking for. She had no idea who it truly was that she was bound to. Had no idea of the enemy that was in front of her.
She recognized his species almost instantly. Recognized that he came from the kingdom she was currently at war with. It was all a setup to assassinate the princess. Alora wasn't exactly well-liked among his people. She had wreaked havoc on his army and people, her morality going out the window the moment her lover had died.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" A valid question, she thought. A witch had come and cursed them, bound them. Their company was missing. And they were stranded somewhere in the woods. And yet, he seemed to be behaving as if this was a regular Tuesday afternoon. It made her blood boil. "Did you do this? Were you responsible for this?"
Her jaw was clenched and her anger was rising. And as much as she wanted to swing at him, she knew better. Her hand-to-hand was not her strongest asset. She relied heavily on her magic in place of her weapons but when she tried to draw on it, she found her energy was drained. "Where the hell are we?"

Seeing Alora’s incredulity only seemed to make him laugh harder. He knew she was hostile, could see it in her eyes, but he also knew that she wouldn’t act on it. She had more to lose than he did. And, besides, Myahil was a little more accepting of death than she likely would be, considering that he was well aware that the poison in his arm was unpredictable, and could speed up drastically if it wished to.

He also could see the recognition. Alora knew he was Rhinacules at least, though Myahil doubted that she actually knew him. He’d never shown his face to the Omarie family, even though he’s been lurking near them for a few years now. And, he also made sure to leave no witnesses to his presence.

Myahil laughed at her question. He couldn’t help it. To hear her curse… it was hilarious. And, that wasn’t mentioning the hilarity of her question.

“More than you will likely ever know,”he replied.

He glanced around again, searching for any sign of his guards or any weapons. None. It was likely that they’d never return. Or, at least, they had been washed far away from the pair via the pack of wolves in the river. Regardless, they wouldn’t be of any use for the time being, and Myahil wasn’t go to waste more time by seeking them out.

“‘Did I do this?’ Leading you here, yes. Binding us, no,”Myahil answered with a mocking snort.

Her rising anger didn’t scare him. Unless she actually had a death wish, which didn’t seem like the case, for now, she wouldn’t attack him. She probably also knew that she was outmatched, in strength, and likely speed, which meant that she’d lose the fight anyway without some other advantage.

“Near the far border of the lands governed by the woman you call the ‘Witch of the Woods’. Though, I call her a nature goddess. She does have many traits of a goddess,”he said matter-of-factly.

Myahil started to hum a random tune a few moments later. It was unclear if he was actually aware that he was humming, as his eyes seemed to be more staring through Alora than at her.