Nathan Davis
Knight
- Local time
- Yesterday 11:48 PM
- Messages
- 31
- Age
- 34
Hey peeps! I'm looking for a long term RP partner. I take RPing seriously, and am looking for a partner who will do the same; that means someone who pays attention to spelling/grammar, puts time and effort into their posts, writes only in the past tense, and is willing to post at least 2-3 paragraphs. I ask that my partner post at least once a week. I'm generally interested in macabre fantasy settings, but occasionally take interest in sci-fi. While I'm not opposed to romance, I certainly don't require it to enjoy an RP. With that said, in the case that a romance does ensue, I only entertain MxM relationships.
Below is a sample of my writing:
I should also mention I'm a concept artist, and there's a good chance I'll illustrate aspects our adventures. Here's a sample of some of my work:
If you're interested, please PM a sample of your writing. I hope to hear from some of you!
Below is a sample of my writing:
Morcant knelt beside the corpse and pulled a small piece of talc from his rucksack. Ancient spells ushered from his lips as he drew a circle around the body. Festering beneath the bog, its features had become horribly disfigured. It was strange to him that this rotting slab before him was once a member of the most feared thieves guild in Vogos. Decades of scheming, murdering, and hiding from the civilized world, and this is what the rogue had to show for it. He recalled Judoc's words. Death, time; these were the only true gods of heaven and earth, and it was through their power that the vanity of man's petty pursuits was laid bare for all to see.
"Anala...Sabtain...Mithrakas…"
Each syllable echoed on the cold wind, bringing with them a redolent, earthy aroma, like that of a forest just 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 was growing thinner with each word the Skin Walker uttered. He pulled a sharpened ceremonial blade, thin and needle-like from a leather sheath upon his ankle and raised it high above the sternum of the rotting corpse. With all the force he could muster he drove the blade into the center of itschest, 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. His eyes welled up with tears. 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 which 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…" The surrounding greenery was sapped of its vitality and form, leaving behind a ring of withered husks. From the Ghost Land energy continued to flood into the corporeal world unabated, creating a subtle humming on the air. Morcant's heart raced, the hair on his arm and legs standing on edge. A melange of ecstasy and dread enveloped him, brought on by his ever deeper immersion into that timeless realm. He reached his hands deep into the corpse's hollow chest, and tore what little remained of the heart from the side of its ribcage. The maggots which had burrowed beneath the rotting flesh wriggled to the surface. 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 raised it into the air.
"Sabnatha...."
"Anala...Sabtain...Mithrakas…"
Each syllable echoed on the cold wind, bringing with them a redolent, earthy aroma, like that of a forest just 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 was growing thinner with each word the Skin Walker uttered. He pulled a sharpened ceremonial blade, thin and needle-like from a leather sheath upon his ankle and raised it high above the sternum of the rotting corpse. With all the force he could muster he drove the blade into the center of itschest, 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. His eyes welled up with tears. 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 which 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…" The surrounding greenery was sapped of its vitality and form, leaving behind a ring of withered husks. From the Ghost Land energy continued to flood into the corporeal world unabated, creating a subtle humming on the air. Morcant's heart raced, the hair on his arm and legs standing on edge. A melange of ecstasy and dread enveloped him, brought on by his ever deeper immersion into that timeless realm. He reached his hands deep into the corpse's hollow chest, and tore what little remained of the heart from the side of its ribcage. The maggots which had burrowed beneath the rotting flesh wriggled to the surface. 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 raised it into the air.
"Sabnatha...."
I should also mention I'm a concept artist, and there's a good chance I'll illustrate aspects our adventures. Here's a sample of some of my work:
If you're interested, please PM a sample of your writing. I hope to hear from some of you!
