Nathan Davis
Knight
- Local time
- Today 4:49 AM
- Messages
- 31
- Age
- 33
So, the never-ending search for a partner continues. I've been writing and roleplaying online for many years. My preferred genre is Fantasy of one sort or another, but I also enjoy Sci-fi on occasion. I prefer quality over quantity; I post three or four paragraphs (at least) once a week, sometimes more, and I put a lot of time and effort into my posts. Please be 21+; it just feels odd to RP with people who are over a decade younger than me, sorry. I write exclusively in the past tense from the third-person limited perspective and require my partner to do the same. I DO NOT care what gender my partner plays. My goal is to write thrilling adventures, not scintillating romances. While I realize this makes me a bit of an outlier in the RP community, it would be nice to find a partner with similar priorities. I also love to draw and have created a great deal of concept art to be used in our adventures. I'll post some of my artwork and a sample of my writing.
I just need to mention a few things that drive me crazy when I'm RPing with a partner:
A number of plots and settings have been brewing in the back of my mind for some time. I love crafting story elements with my partner and we can discuss/modify any of these in greater detail OOC.
Hope to hear from some of you!
I just need to mention a few things that drive me crazy when I'm RPing with a partner:
- Sentence fragments
- Tense switching
- Run-on sentences (periods are your friend).
A number of plots and settings have been brewing in the back of my mind for some time. I love crafting story elements with my partner and we can discuss/modify any of these in greater detail OOC.
Original Plots:
- A psychic, hermit, and practitioner of the arcane arts (my character) recently discovered a large meteorite several miles from his hearth. After months of studying the stone, he's learned that it's, in fact, the prison of an ancient and powerful devil. My character intends to transport the stone to a distant shrine and destroy it. To this end, he has hired a skilled mercenary (your character) to assist him on his journey. Shortly before our party reaches its destination, we're attacked by a band of cultists and the devil within the stone intervenes on its own behalf, magically teleporting our characters to wastelands of hell itself.
- A psychic (my character) has been betrayed by his coven. His former coven has devoted itself to a demonic force with its leader serving as the demon's mortal host. Narrowly escaping the covens wrath, MC disappeared into the unfamiliar cityscape. Soon after, a sorceress from a distant land began speaking to him through his dreams, claiming her coven has likewise fallen to corruption. My character books passage aboard a large vessel in order to meet this sorceress in person: a vessel which your character is also aboard. This vessel is attacked by a monstrous sea monster and our journey takes an unexpected turn.
- A schism has erupted within an ancient order of mystics. These mystics, one of which is my character, live for hundreds of years, entering into dream-like trances within which they tend to powers keeping otherworldly forces at bay. Another order of elite guardians, to which your character belongs, was established alongside these mystics. The purpose of this order is twofold: protect the dreaming mystics and put them down should they fall to corruption. Several of the mystics have betrayed the order, turning to Lichdom and allying themselves with a powerful devil. These liches now launch an assault on the mystics' hidden sanctuary and we must defend it.
- Medieval Western Europe
- Medieval Eastern Europe
- Victorian England
- Renaissance Europe
- Medieval Persia
- Ancient North Africa
- 1700s West Africa
- Ancient China
- Feudal Japan
- Penny Dreadful
- Castlevania
- Diablo
- Witcher
- Bloodborne
- Grim Dawn
- Pillars of Eternity
- Starcraft
- Xmen
- Jade Empire
Morcant knelt beside the corpse and collected a piece of talc from his rucksack. Ancient spells ushered from his lips as he drew a circle around the body. It was strange that the rotting slab before him, so harmless and decomposed, was once the most dangerous thief in Vogos. Nothing remained of him but his legacy of pain. He recalled Judoc's words. Death, time; these were the true gods of heaven and earth, and it was through their power that the vanity of man's pursuits was laid bare for all to see.
"Anala...Sabtain...Mithrakas…'' Each syllable echoed on the cold wind. An earthy aroma filled the Morcant's nostrils, like that of a spring forest, moments before a storm. It was the Anem Cira, or 'soul spark' as it was known in the common tongue: the veil between the Ghost Land and the corporeal world growing thinner with each word the Skinwalker uttered. He pulled a sharpened ceremonial blade, thin and needle-like from a leather sheath upon his ankle and pitched it high above the sternum of the rotting corpse. With all the force he could muster, he drove the blade into the center of its chest, twisting it back and forth until an audible crack relieved the pressure beneath him. A puff of noxious odor spewed from the freshly formed cavity. Morcant's eyes welled up with tears as he retched. He'd only invoked Albiach Cineadhia on three prior occasions, and never on a corpse so late into decomposition. Under the tutelage of Judoc, he had performed many spells and rituals that required dabbling in the macabre. He'd grown accustomed to writing in the blood of goats, horses, and men, and creating salves and elixirs from the organs of all manner of vermin. But no invocation had thus far required him to work with a specimen so repugnant.
"Vamarus...Danir…" Vitality and form abandoned the surrounding greenery, leaving behind a ring of withered husks. From the Ghost Land energy flooded into the corporeal world unabated, creating a subtle humming in the air. Morcant lowered his hands deep into the corpse's cavity and tore what little remained of the heart from the side of its ribcage. Maggots buried beneath the fleshy surface wriggled to and fro. He felt a lukewarm mixture of stale water and bodily fluids trickle down his arm and soak his plain linen shirt. Fighting back the impulse to vomit, he gripped the heart firmly in his hand and elevated it into the air. "Sabnatha…"
His eyes turned black as smoke. Blurred images, one after the other flashed before him in his mind's eye, each accompanied by a prickling pain that began at the base of his spine and rushed throughout the length of his torso like a surge of electricity. Clad in scanty sienna gowns, three women with locks of auburn danced around the post to which he was bound. Their lithe bodies moved in unison as though they were of a single mind. He did not recognize the curious tongue in which they spoke. The coarse and raspy tones of their voices resembled those, not of fair maidens, but demons; a tri-tonal, guttural retching that Morcant wouldn't soon forget. The tallest of the three slowly approached him like a dancer in a city brothel, her hips swaying from side to side and a coy, yet malevolent smile upon her lips. She arched her spine, pressed herself against him and purred quietly as a placated cat. Her teeth were sharp as arrowheads and the smell of rancid meat was heavy upon her breath. She slipped her hand beneath her garments and gently caressed the teat of her breast. Her eyes rolled with pleasure into the back of her head, her mouth barely ajar. A dark, virescent fluid soaked through the thin garment covering her bosom and trailed down the pale flesh of her breasts. With stained fingertips, she softly caressed Morcant's jawline.
"Do you thirst, child?" the woman whispered gently into his ear. Her words devolved into a low-pitched cachinnation as she forced her fingers between his lips. A caustic, acrid flavor overwhelmed him. His mouth began to swelter, as though he were cradling a lump of smoldering coal upon the rear of his tongue. The sensation spread to the lining of his throat: a dry, torrid tingle that crept along his trachea and constricted his airways. As he struggled in vain for faded breath, he heard Dyana's voice in the peripheries of his mind, calling to him with an air of desperation he'd yet to perceive in the ranger's self-assured voice.
"Morcant...wake up!"
"Anala...Sabtain...Mithrakas…'' Each syllable echoed on the cold wind. An earthy aroma filled the Morcant's nostrils, like that of a spring forest, moments before a storm. It was the Anem Cira, or 'soul spark' as it was known in the common tongue: the veil between the Ghost Land and the corporeal world growing thinner with each word the Skinwalker uttered. He pulled a sharpened ceremonial blade, thin and needle-like from a leather sheath upon his ankle and pitched it high above the sternum of the rotting corpse. With all the force he could muster, he drove the blade into the center of its chest, twisting it back and forth until an audible crack relieved the pressure beneath him. A puff of noxious odor spewed from the freshly formed cavity. Morcant's eyes welled up with tears as he retched. He'd only invoked Albiach Cineadhia on three prior occasions, and never on a corpse so late into decomposition. Under the tutelage of Judoc, he had performed many spells and rituals that required dabbling in the macabre. He'd grown accustomed to writing in the blood of goats, horses, and men, and creating salves and elixirs from the organs of all manner of vermin. But no invocation had thus far required him to work with a specimen so repugnant.
"Vamarus...Danir…" Vitality and form abandoned the surrounding greenery, leaving behind a ring of withered husks. From the Ghost Land energy flooded into the corporeal world unabated, creating a subtle humming in the air. Morcant lowered his hands deep into the corpse's cavity and tore what little remained of the heart from the side of its ribcage. Maggots buried beneath the fleshy surface wriggled to and fro. He felt a lukewarm mixture of stale water and bodily fluids trickle down his arm and soak his plain linen shirt. Fighting back the impulse to vomit, he gripped the heart firmly in his hand and elevated it into the air. "Sabnatha…"
His eyes turned black as smoke. Blurred images, one after the other flashed before him in his mind's eye, each accompanied by a prickling pain that began at the base of his spine and rushed throughout the length of his torso like a surge of electricity. Clad in scanty sienna gowns, three women with locks of auburn danced around the post to which he was bound. Their lithe bodies moved in unison as though they were of a single mind. He did not recognize the curious tongue in which they spoke. The coarse and raspy tones of their voices resembled those, not of fair maidens, but demons; a tri-tonal, guttural retching that Morcant wouldn't soon forget. The tallest of the three slowly approached him like a dancer in a city brothel, her hips swaying from side to side and a coy, yet malevolent smile upon her lips. She arched her spine, pressed herself against him and purred quietly as a placated cat. Her teeth were sharp as arrowheads and the smell of rancid meat was heavy upon her breath. She slipped her hand beneath her garments and gently caressed the teat of her breast. Her eyes rolled with pleasure into the back of her head, her mouth barely ajar. A dark, virescent fluid soaked through the thin garment covering her bosom and trailed down the pale flesh of her breasts. With stained fingertips, she softly caressed Morcant's jawline.
"Do you thirst, child?" the woman whispered gently into his ear. Her words devolved into a low-pitched cachinnation as she forced her fingers between his lips. A caustic, acrid flavor overwhelmed him. His mouth began to swelter, as though he were cradling a lump of smoldering coal upon the rear of his tongue. The sensation spread to the lining of his throat: a dry, torrid tingle that crept along his trachea and constricted his airways. As he struggled in vain for faded breath, he heard Dyana's voice in the peripheries of his mind, calling to him with an air of desperation he'd yet to perceive in the ranger's self-assured voice.
"Morcant...wake up!"
Hope to hear from some of you!
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. Looking for a new partner.