forum "I would burn the world for you" (OxO Closed)

Started December 01, 2022 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

Enemies to lovers. Forced proximity. One bed. All the best tropes rolled up into one rp.

The Kingdom of Araniel has been at war with itself for a generation. Ever since a second son of the King of Greahan decided he wanted his own throne. Using deceit and trickery, he killed the entirety of the royal family (so he thought) and placed himself on the throne. He outlawed magic and put anyone who exhibited signs of magic to the sword, despite if whether they were truly mages or not. The people protested this and they were slapped with tax after tax, effectively crippling the majority of the common folk. The rich were made richer so long as they offered their support. And the poor were made poorer by the day. An army can't rise against you if they can't even feed themselves.
Whispers of a royal child escaping the butchery were spread through the land. She was raising an army against the man who killed her family, recruiting anyone who would join. She offered food and protection for support. Her numbers were slow to grow, but they grew. They specialized in sneak attacks as they did not have the numbers to attack head-on. They would ambush cargo or traveling armies. They would blow up bridges or outposts. Anything they did, they were careful not to cause civilian casualties, that was all the army. However, the king spread his lies, claiming these rebels were killing innocents. The king held the majority of the people, by fear, not by love. But there were still some who were brave enough to turn away.

Over the decades, their numbers grew. The Lisias, they called themselves. Liberator, it meant. They were always moving, always changing. Decades had passed and they had never been found, never spotted unless they intended to be. Their ambushes were frequented, and assassins were sent out to kill generals, leaders, and anyone they could access too. They had yet to penetrate the palace. It was their biggest failure. Any attempts were naught. The spies they sent in never came back. After the fifth disappearance, they stopped sending in spies. They would not risk their people, and not just because of their limited numbers. They cared for their people. They were tired of telling husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, that their family wasn't returning to them.
Their leader had since died, the princess, but not before leaving her own child behind to continue her rebellion. A son. The rightful king. However, this son did not believe in his cause because he wanted to be king. He saw how the people were treated, how they suffered. He fought to save his people, and end their suffering. He did not want the throne. Any sane person who understood ruling would not want the throne. Meanwhile, in the Aranielian palace, the king still lived, fat and cruel. He had several children of his own and yet refused to pass the crown to his oldest, despite his dying age. He was greedy and power-hungry. He did not want to give up his position.

Character A is the son of the princess that survived. Since his mother's passing in an ambush gone wrong, he had taken the lead of the rebellion. He led with a firm grip and a kind heart. He asked nothing of his supporters that he would not do himself but he did not tolerate disloyalty. There was no room in his ranks for such a thing. A kept his people hidden deep within the woods, beyond the border of Araniel. They occupied land in between kingdoms. It was the safest for them to be. One of his spies reported an important cargo would be traveling out of the palace and it was imperative they intercept it. A quickly gathered his best warriors. A and his four best departed quickly. They traveled weeks into Araniel, stopping through towns, providing what they could. Gold or protection. A never once revealed who he was, only that he was an envoy. They never stayed in one place longer than a night. Finally, they approached the palace, watching as the cargo departed under the cloak of night in a carriage. They followed it for miles, waiting for the opportunity. Finally, late one evening, when the carriage was in the forest, miles from any town, they struck. It was a brutal battle, if one could call it that. The five of them ambushed the guards surrounding the carriage, killing them swiftly. They approached the carriage, excited to retrieve a parcel or a map that could help them, only to find one of the King's children in the carriage. Perhaps this was his lucky day.
Character B is one of the King's middle children. They are often forgotten about and left up to their own devices. Most days, they occupy themselves outside of the palace, riding or gardening or visiting the market. Anywhere but the palace. It was stuffy and their father was cruel. They did not want to be around him longer than necessary. B believed their life to going well, despite the ongoing civil war. It was all A's fault, of course. Because of A, civilians were being tortured and murdered. They were stealing cattle and crops and children. They would rob them of their gold. It was all because of A and his stupid rebellion that B's people were suffering. One day, B was called to their father's office. B was terrified. Had they done something wrong? B's older brother and heir to the throne was int he room along with their father when they arrived. That was when B received the worst news they could ever hear. B was being forced into a marriage alliance. Araniel needed allies to help them put down this rebellion once and for all. They needed marriage to make that happen and so B was to be shipped off. B was dreading the day it came, dragging their feet into the carriage, wondering why they had to leave so late in the night. B moped through the journey, wishing that anything, anyone would stop this. Well, B got their wish. The carriage was ambushed. B could hear the murder happening right outside the carriage. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. B could only wait for their own death. They had no weapon on them to defend themself. So when the carriage was opened, revealing five strangers, covered in blood and grins on their face, B closed their eyes waiting for the worst. What B wasn't expecting, was for them to put B in chains and take them as their prisoner.

This is a fantasy romance with enemies to lovers. I am fine with being either character. A is a man, B can be either. I can still carry on my plot being either of them.

Rules:

1. This is PG-16. Which means swearing, some gore, implied mature scenes but not descriptive.
2. At least one detailed paragraph.
3. No god play, please. Despite their being magic, you can still get injured almost just as easily. I know it's fantasy but try to make it a little bit realistic.
4. This is your rp as much as mine. Don't be afraid to discuss concerns.

I'll post a form if anyone decides they're interested.

hi yes hello I am interested 👀👀👀👀

Hello there

Would you care if I snatched up the spot of B?

Unfortunately, I will be going with @Larcenist-Arsonist. I don't like repeating rps with multiple people because I find I end up favoring one over the other. However, if you are wanting to do an rp, we could definitely do a different plot together, change it up a bit if you still like the fantasy setting.

Would you care if I snatched up the spot of B?

That is good is with me. I will put up a character sheet.

Form
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Personality:
Background:
Other:

Name: Prince Belcoril Eryx Ristokirin, second son of King Meirlenan (truly, he just prefers to be called Bel)
Age: Just barely turned twenty-two
Gender: Male, he/him
Sexuality: Always assumed that he was straight but… maybe he's really not. (Basically very gay but in denial.)

Appearance: Bel has dark brown skin with darker freckles across his broad nose and fairly sculpted cheekbones. He's slightly above average, standing at about 6'0" with a fairly decent build. He keeps his hair short and in neat dreadlocks that poke upwards at all sort of angles, yet he always makes them look good. He has wide eyes that are a dark, warm brown and medium eyebrows over them. Bel's smile is semi-awkward, sort of lopsided with a tiny gap between his front two teeth. He favors royal blue and gold when it comes to his expensive clothing, even adorning two golden studs in his earlobes and golden cuffs on his dreads. He also keeps a sword at his side.

Personality: Bel is a clear ambivert with a love of conversation but a fear of embarrassing himself by talking too much. He enjoys writing in his free time and learning about cultures and history (though his father always restricts what he can learn). Bel has an infinite urge to learn and to experience, though he can't quite do it often. That leads to much pent-up frustration and some obliviousness that could certainly get him into rough situations. Bel nearly always has some book at his fingertips or a thousand questions in his mind. He tries his damndest to keep an open mind, but growing up in the heart of all the propaganda, it can prove quite difficult. He is not a stubborn man, rather one who will go with the flow to see what will happen. He doesn't like to get involved, instead preferring to watch from the sidelines and take mental notes. He is very much a jack of all trades and learns incredibly fast.

Background: Bel grew up the second of four children. His older brother, Miran, was the one to receive all of the prime schooling. Naturally, this built a slight hatred in Bel towards Miran. Much to Bel's relief, he was out of his father's line of sight for most of his life. Hell, his father hardly acknowledged him growing up. This should have made Bel at least a little angry, but Bel took it as a freeing opportunity that his older brother never had. He picked up dozens of hobbies, perfecting each of them to a certain extent. However, that one day when Bel was called into his father's throne room he knew it could only be bad news. And of course it was. His hand in marriage was offered to the neighboring kingdom, to the fine Lady Tacia. There was nothing wrong with her, no, Bel had met her a grand total of twice before. She was civil and intelligent, but Bel just couldn't process the idea of being her trophy husband. Clearly dreading it but not daring to speak up against his tyrant father, Bel goes along with it. And then he's attacked. And then a whole new life begins for him.

Other: While he may know how to garden, cook, weave, candlemake, play the lyre, and play a nice game of archery, Bel has no idea how to hold a sword. It simply does not connect in his brain. (I might add a little more later!)

Anyways, I'm hyped to get this going; it seems like a lot of fun asldkjf

Name: Nicandros Castel
Age: Twenty-five
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance: Nicandros is fairly tall, standing over six feet tall. He has a lean body with an athletic build. Because of this, it has led to many people underestimating his skills. Those people are now dead. His blonde hair is about shoulder length. He keeps it pulled back in braids, as a way to honor his mother who would always braid his hair when he was a child. His pale skin has tanned over the years of living in the forests and being under the sun. He has pale blue eyes that seem to stare into the soul. He has attributed many scars over his body from his many battles. The most notable one is the scar on his face. It started on his temple and was slashed diagonally down his face to his cheek, narrowly missing his eye. While his figure might point otherwise, he is a warrior through and through.
Personality: Nicandros is an honorable man, despite the wrongdoings done to his family. He is honorable and has always kept his word. This being, he is always a strict man. When it comes to his people, there isn't anything he wouldn't do for them. He has rules in place he expects to be followed. He dulls out punishments to those that do not follow them. They varied in severity based on the crime and the age of the offender. The only time he can ever let himself be free is when he is on a mission, and those are so few for him these days. As the only offspring of his mother, there would be no one else to inherit the throne should he die. For that, his council has instructed him to stay at their base, that he did not join in the fight. It agitated him. He did not like to sit back and let others do the fighting for him. Yet despite all of his hardships, he did have a kind heart and that was what he ruled with.
Background: Nicandros had been groomed for war ever since he could walk. As long as he could remember, he sat at war meetings with his mother and trained with his father. He learned how to be a leader. He learned how to care for his people and lead true and honest. War was what he was born for, being king was what he was molded for, and yet he did not want it. He did not want the life that had been carved for him. All he wanted was a home with a loving family and to be himself. But that could never happen as long as the false king sat on the throne. There was no one else. There was no one else with the courage, with the birthright to overthrow and place themselves on the throne. There was no one else with the power he possessed. it would have to be him. He would lead his people into war so that they might have peace.
Other: Nicandros is a skilled air mage. He is able to manipulate the air in many different ways that benefit him. He was taught from a young age never to rely on his magic to save him. He would have to do that with his own bare hands.

Aww I love Bel

If you're all set, I'll go ahead and post a starter?

aaaaa!! I love Nicandros!!

And Yes!! I'm ready for a starter

Alright. Give me a few minutes to write one. I tend to ramble lol

Just keeping you in the loop, still writing it lol. Maybe half way done? It's a lot.

Unfortunately, I will be going with @Larcenist-Arsonist. I don't like repeating rps with multiple people because I find I end up favoring one over the other. However, if you are wanting to do an rp, we could definitely do a different plot together, change it up a bit if you still like the fantasy setting.

(that makes sense! I'm down for an RP together if you are!)

askdlfj no worries! i'm probably gonna head to bed soon so I might have to respond tomorrow!

A cargo is leaving the palace. It's essential you get it before it passes the western border. They leave at the next full moon.
Nicandros had no idea how his little bird heard of this news. She wasn't supposed to be in the palace. She was supposed to be spying in the market, close enough for important news, but far enough out of harm's way. If he found out that she had infiltrated the palace, the next time he saw her he was going to kiss her and then smack her upside the head for being so foolish. She should not have risked her life like this for this information, even if it was vital for his cause. He cared more about her safety than anything else.
However, it was just the information he needed.
Nicandros needed a break. So many of his plans had been failing recently. He felt like he was falling off the edge. He had lost many good people, many of them his friends. He hadn't had time to mourn them. This was war. There was no time to sit and cry. He could do so once he had won this war or he would meet them in the afterlife and greet them on his knees, begging for forgiveness. He prayed they would forgive him, that they would accept him. But he knew deep in his heart he would not deserve it. It was because of him that they were dead. It was because of his mistakes that his people were gone.
But he would not make a mistake this time.
He forewent going to his council. He knew what they would say. It's too dangerous. You cannot risk yourself. They would cry. You are our last hope. We cannot lose you. Nicandros was tired of it. He was tired of sending his men only to die. It was time for him to get back into the field. He wasn't taking no for an answer. This was too important. They would need the best for this mission and well, Nicandros was one of the best. And knew he just who to bring along with him. For retrieving cargo, they needed a small group. Smaller groups could travel faster and would be less suspicious. They needed light steps and to be swift and precise. He did not want this to be a battlefield. He did not want to risk the lives of any of his friends. It would be an execution. The faster the guard was disposed of, the sooner he could be on his way home with a chance of victory in his hands. He wasn't sure what he was extracting. Perhaps even his little bird didn't know. But if she said it was important, he believed her.
Nicandros approached his men one by one. Five of them, to be exact, but he would only be taking four.
He approached Laurent first. There was no one else he knew that was as skilled with a bow as he was. "Anything you need, Nico," Laurent replied when he asked. There was no question of loyalty, no question of their mission.
He approached Cassian next. There was no better fighter he knew than Cassian. He was brutal and swift. He could kill a man with his fists. "When do we leave?" Cassian asked in response.
Next, he approached Braxton. He was the best tracker that Nicandros had ever come across. There was nothing he couldn't hunt down. "I'll pack my things," Braxton answered.
Kaillas was the next he approached. He was the best assassin that Nicandros had in his army. He was swift, silent, and deadly. "Finally, some fun. Just like the good ole days," Kaillas smirked.
And lastly, Nicandros approached Ambrose. Not to ask him to join on this mission, something that greatly wounded his friend. No, because Ambrose was the best man to remain as regent over their home until Nicandros got back. He was honorable and firm and moral. He trusted Ambrose's judgment more than his own. "It is an honor," Ambrose bowed.
With all five of his men gathered in the privacy of his tent, he showed them the note, and explained the plan. There was an important cargo leaving the palace on the full moon. That gave them exactly three weeks to get there and track the carriage. They needed to intercept it before it crosses the border in the neighboring kingdom. The palace was typically a four-week ride. They would need to cut down seven days. That would mean they would have to ride as hard as they could, only stopping when it was necessary. They would ride at dawn. There was no time to lose. They needed to get the cargo and get back. They would not kill anyone more than necessary. They would not risk civilians. This needed to be clean and quick.
Come the dawn, Nicandros and his men rode out of the camp without explanation. Nicandros, who would be known as Nico while on the mission, wore a cloak and dark clothing. He had just a couple of spare clothing packed away, hoping they would come across a stream to wash. There was enough food to last them the journey there, but they were on their own on the way back. Each one of them was strapped with their weapons of choice. Swords and bows and knives, but everything was as discrete as they could be. They did not want to raise alarm.
For weeks they rode. They stopped only long enough to allow their horses to rest. They stopped in villages only long enough to spread the word of the Lisias. They helped those who were in need as they were able to, but they could not waste time.
With their discipline, they were able to reach the outskirts of the palace a day ahead. They moved through the market, listening for whispers of this mysterious package that was supposed to be leaving but to no avail. Nicandros had half a mind to pay his little bird a visit but he did not want to endanger her further. So instead, the five of them made camp out int he outskirts, hiding and waiting. It was the night of the full moon. They became restless as the night drew on and there was no sight of the carriage. It wasn't until the moon had peaked in the sky that there, a carriage was riding out of the castle on the back end near the servant's door. It was like the King to be suspicious like this.
They kept their distance as they followed the carriage, not wanting to tip off the guards that they were being followed. It went on for almost a week before they decided to make their move. Kaillas had gone ahead to set a trap. A rock on the road that was large enough to break a wheel but not so much to be visible. The other four joined him shortly afterward, hiding, waiting.
There. The carriage was nearing. They were all twitching with anticipation. Twelve guards. Five of them. They had seen worse odds and come out on top. The wheels were turning turning turning. Then it went over the rock and the wood cracked. The carriage was pulled off the road as the horses panicked. Guards tightened around the carriage, shouting to one another.
Laurent loosed an arrow into a guard's neck. Eleven now. The five of them charged, each from different positions around the carriage. Dodge. Swing. Block. Kill. They repeated the actions until all twelve guards lay around them dead. A quick battle. They had put up a fight. "Clear this up," Nicandros ordered his men. They did not need to leave an obvious mess even if this wasn't the main road. Better to hide this as best as they could.
The horses were cut loose and the dead mean were dragged away while Nicandros approached the carriage. he grabbed the handle, yanking it open, expecting to find maps or weapons or letters. It was none of that. He stared bewildered at the boy in the carriage. No, not a boy. A prince. Prince Belicore. Second son of the pretender king.
Nicandros smiled widely as he tipped his head back and laughed. Oh, little bird. I'm going to kiss you when I see you again.

Unfortunately, I will be going with @Larcenist-Arsonist. I don't like repeating rps with multiple people because I find I end up favoring one over the other. However, if you are wanting to do an rp, we could definitely do a different plot together, change it up a bit if you still like the fantasy setting.

(that makes sense! I'm down for an RP together if you are!)

(I would definitely be down. Do you have a plot in mind?)

Unfortunately, I will be going with @Larcenist-Arsonist. I don't like repeating rps with multiple people because I find I end up favoring one over the other. However, if you are wanting to do an rp, we could definitely do a different plot together, change it up a bit if you still like the fantasy setting.

(that makes sense! I'm down for an RP together if you are!)

(I would definitely be down. Do you have a plot in mind?)

(not really, tbh, but I'm sure we could figure one out! Do you want me to make a thread, or PM you, or?)

(not really, tbh, but I'm sure we could figure one out! Do you want me to make a thread, or PM you, or?)

(We can do a thread)

Prince Belcoril Eryx Ristokirin, second son of King Meirlenan, is not simply one to follow orders blindly.

He had his suspicions when his father ordered him to the throne room. The silver ceiling and chilling crimson curtains didn't mesh well with Bel's own scheme of blue and gold. His avoidance towards the hall isn't just confined to color theory, however, Bel also has quite the distate for the sweltering power that shrouds the throne. For an intangible thing, it's quite visible.

His father, sitting on the bejeweled chair in all his glory, had laughed and instructed Bel in his gargling voice that he was to marry. It didn't come as a shock. Not when his younger two sisters had already been wed away. Bel at least had some scrap of hope that his father would take pity on him and allow him to remain at the palace with his studies, but Bel supposes not all prayers are answered.

Bel was set to leave three nights later. His beloved maid, Mathilde, helped him pack and organize three trunks. One was reserved for his clothing, the other two for his seemingly endless hobbies. ("Do you really need your calligraphy set?" She had asked. Bel was offended she even thought about leaving his fancy fountain quills.) On the night of the full moon, he boarded the carriage. An escort of twelve guards and two cavalry horses surround the small wooden vehicle.

And he was a fool for thinking it would protect him.

In the midst of writing a letter to his youngest sister for her seventeenth birthday, a broken wheel causes him to spill ink across the crisp parchment. Cursing to himself, he went for the door to ask what the hell had stopped them. But then somebody dropped. Red. Crimson. Spilling straight from an arrow lodged in a guard's neck. Bel's throat constricts, fear strangling even the smallest of screams from escaping.

Maybe they'll leave me? He begs, but any chance of escape was smothered when the carriage door is practically ripped from the hinges.

A man stands before him, and not one his extensive knowledge can recognize.

"Don't kill me," he breathes. He blinks. His eyes are fuzzy and warm. This had to have been a targeted attack. The carriage was supposed to take a vacant road, one that hadn't been used for years. Bel may not wear a crown, but the stitching in his suit is sign of royalty enough. "Please, I'm more use to you alive than dead."

Nicandros looked down at the prince in front of him, already formulating his plan. Traveling with a prisoner would be hard. They take longer to get home, they would have to take detours to avoid being caught. But it was vital for his people. There was so much potential with his prince. They would milk him dry of all the information he knew. Nicandros would start off kind. He would befriend him, try to reason with him. But if that did not work, he knew what he would need to do.
"You most definitely are, Your Highness. A greater find than I had ever hoped to find."
"What the hell is it, Nico?" That was Cassian, ever a nosy bastard. He could feel the five pairs of eyes on his back, watching and waiting. They wanted to know what they had left home for. They wanted to know if it had been worth it, as if his little bird would lead them wrong. His little bird was never wrong. he trusted her word perhaps more than anyone else.
He stepped aside, revealing the prince his men. "Kaillas, that spare piece of rope is going to come in handy after all." His assassin pulled out a length of rope out of his pack, perfect for binding a prisoner.
"What the fuck?" That would be Cassian again. "Who the fuck is that?"
Nicandros rolled his eyes as he took the binding. He looked down at the prince. While he was sure he could catch him if he ran, Nicandros didn't want to risk the energy and time it would take to track him down. "Prince Belicore, this is your lucky day. You are now a prisoner of the Lisais. It would be in your best interest to cooperate if you wish to get out of this in one piece. Now, you can either hold out your arms and let me bind them or I can have my men force you down and I'll bind them. What's it going to be?"
Cassian had gone quiet now, as the rest of his men had. The realization of who this was finally hitting them. The prince. The prince. The things that they could learn. The leverage they could use. This could be their break. This could end the war and finally bring peace to his people. Money would be returned to those it was stolen from. Retribution would be had for those that hunted down innocent people simply for the indication of being a mage. They needed this. They needed the prince to win. Their little bird knew it and now they knew it too.

Bel swallows whatever the hell is building in his throat and stares at the man in front of him. He's shaking. Oh god, his steady calligraphy hands are shaking. He practically rattles the entire carriage from where his back is pressed up against it. Smeared on the floor is his letter to his dear sister Treya. Will these thieves and rogues hunt her down as well?

The thought unbearable, Bel blinks it away. The warmness of his tears cut paths down his cheeks. A greater find. What had they been expecting? Gold, treasures, documents of the king? His breath hitches as more voices sound from outside. Of course it isn't just the singular blond man in front of him. Of course he comes with a team. Bel assumes himself a fool for thinking otherwise.

The Lisais.

Is that what this band of vagabonds call themselves? And they want him prisoner. It's better than the other option. Bel very much prefers all of his blood inside his body. His hands still unsteady and useless, he holds them out to the blond leader. Better to cooperate and survive than make this difficult for people on all ends.

Words form in useless jump lessons in his mind. He yearns to say something, to strike up a conversation with the renegades, but what could suffice? Bel is–on all aspects–at a disadvantage. Momentarily he wonders if it was any of his other siblings trapped in this moment. Miran would draw his sword and fight to the very end. Valera would wait to strike, living up to her nickname among the palace staff as Cobra. Treya would sob, break and beg to be let free. It doesn't matter. They're not here and Bel is alone with a group of five criminals and surrounded by twelve corpses.

"You say you are the Lisais," he starts, the foreign word curling comfortably around his multi-langual tongue. "But who are you?" His dark eyes find the leader's piercing blue.