I seek the sanctuary of Elliquiy, for a time, and that means I need someone (female) to write with. Hopefully, one of these three story ideas will interest you. If you want to know more about me, there's a link to my Ons and Offs below and, of course, you're always free to send me a PM. I must admit I can be a bit picky about who I write with (I tend to be a big believer in investing in one's writing partners. I don't like to do things by halves), but I wouldn't ask for a song and dance. I'll just read up on your previous posts to see if I think we're compatible. But if you feel those do not express what you're really capable of (It happens: People tend to give as good as they get) and you want to display some plummage, feel free. I won't stop you.
The story ideas below are incomplete, but they should at least give an idea of what I'm looking for. They are, naturally, subject to negotiation. And if you dislike them, but somehow find me sufficiently compelling that you still want to write with me, I'm open to suggestions. I've written the ideas past the point where the story would "begin" to give you an idea of where I'd like to head with it, and I've written the characters in some detail to give you a bit of a vision of how I see it, but again, it's all subject to negotiation.
The Three Brides of the Black Prince
High Fantasy, Intrigue, Harem, Non-consensual
The good kingdom of Willowen prospered beneath the rule of its righteous, compassionate king, favored by the gods and protected by its paladins, until the Imperial Armies of the Mandragoran Empire descended upon it. Their towering warbeasts despoiled the rich, green forests of Willowen, the black-clad legions enslaved its populace and its warlocks cast out its paladins and darkened the skies. The son of the emperor himself, the black prince of Mandragora, ascended the steps of the castle, threw Willowen's king into the dungeon, cast the throne to the ground, and replaced it with one of steel. The emperor smiled upon his son, and gave him the fallen kingdom as his personal playground.
The court, once filled with sunshine and golden banners and oaken tables, now wears cold marble and red banners. Life within the court swirls around the Black Prince and his iron fist, and he has whatever woman he wants, and he wants many, including the virginal priestesses of the old temples, and the princess herself. Hope is not yet lost, though! The son of the king escaped the fate of the rest of his kin, and now rides the countryside, gathering the remnants of his paladins and calling upon old allies as he gathers his strength to retake his kingdom and free his sister and his father. Within the empire itself, though, the warlocks raise doubts about the dedication of the Black Prince to the subjugation of Willowen and the Mandragoran cause. They whisper behind his back that he listens too much to the priestesses, that he shows signs of genuine feelings for the princess, and that he has begun to rule Willowen for his sake rather than for the empire's, to shape it and improve it, rather than simply keep it locked down. Can the prince be losing faith in the Dark Gods of Mandragora? And if so, how long until the Warlocks find a way to remove him?
The game begins with the fall of Willowen and the ascension of the Black Prince to the throne. From there, the game spirals into a web of intrigue, deceit and dark romance as the ladies of the court try to use the only means they have to protect the remnants of the kingdom. You would play at least three different female characters (Presumably, the princess, a priestess, and some other character). I could do this as group play, but I often find that someone inevitably feels left out, and I'd rather avoid that.
The vaulted chamber of Willowen's throne room echoed with the rustling whispers of its many, frightened courtiers. They swept across the marble floors like leaves blown by an autumn wind, the vibrant colors of their garments constrasting with the stark grey and white of the marble floors. High above them, where the banners of their kingdom once stood proudly, the red and black arms of the Mandragoran Empire hung in oppressive stillness, the Eye of Mandragoa watching them impassionately.
The whispers grew in fever pitch as the sound of metal boots run out against the marble just outside the door, and then, suddenly, the doors boomed out as the legionaires threw them open, silencing the entire room. Utter stillness filled the air as every eye turned towards the armed men. The torchlight gleamed off black, baroque, etched armor and their faceless masks. The hems of their red cloaks swept around their boots as they stepped aside and let him step forward.
The Black Prince glowered at the gathered crowd, who watched him with the wide-eyed fear of a deer caught in the hunter's crosshairs. Hair the color of silken night fell around his alabaster, almost angelic features, and beneath his slim, angled eyebrows, his dark eyes glittered. He lifted his gauntleted hand before the crowd, his red cloak falling away from his body at the gesture, and held it aloft, every gaze in the room on is fist. His eyes searched the room until he found her. That moment, a moment of connection where their gazes met, though mere seconds, seemed to last for an eternity, before his lips split into a smirk, showing his sharp teeth, and his fist suddenly unclenched into a magnanimous gesture, his fingers extended palm up to the crowd.
"Were we not celebrating?" He asked rhetorically, and, with a collective sigh of relief, the crowd returned to its manic conversation, while the Black Prince's soldiers slid out to circle the crowd, wolves watching the sheep. The Prince tried to find her again, but when he lost her in the crowd, his smirk faded, an unreadable mask falling back into place over his porcelain features.
Princess's 18th Birthday!
Urban Fantasy/Horror, Romance, Action, Non-consensual(?)
She was daddy's little princess! And princess got whatever she wanted: Cars, jewelry, the latest fashion, and any boy she wanted (not that, like, any of the boys at the school were good enough for her
. Just not, you know, mature enough). Naturally, everyone loved her (if they knew what was good for them), and tomorrow was going to be the biggest event of the whole year (no! The whole decade!): Princess's 18th Birthday!
That night, though, her father got a call and his face turned as white as a sheet. His sad eyes sought out his daughter, and, with a lump in his throat, he swallowed. After he hung up the phone, he turned to his little girl and promptly cancelled her party ("How could he do that!"). In her rage, Princess began to pack her things in secret, determined to run away the next day if she didn't get her way. What she got, instead, were visitors.
Tall, rugged, with dangerous eyes and a lethal grace, they filled her house. These men wore simple clothing, denim and leather rather than the silk of finely tailored suits, but they, nonetheless, managed to project an aura of regal power that dwarfed and cowed her father. One in particular stood out, a young man with a rough jaw, bright, gilded eyes and short, rough brown-gold hair. The moment their eyes met, antipathy bloomed like a fire between them. Her prattling complaints made his eyebrow twitch and his lips peel back from his long, sharp teeth.
Then she discovered, this boy, this Sebastian, was to be her groom.
Werewolves had long haunted this region, building their power and acting as a bridge between man and spirit for centuries. They gathered some humans, so called "kinfolk," under their protection. Thus, her family fortunes, wealth and power had all been assured and orchestrated by the clawed hand of their secret masters, and now, they demanded their price: Princess herself. The spirits had ordained that Sebastian, son of the Werewolf King, heir to the greatest of the werewolf Clans, must marry Princess, to produce a fateful child. That neither particularly liked one another interested the alien creatures of the Otherworld not at all.
And so Princess was dragged from her familiar world of parties, homework and fancy dresses and into the dangerous world of tooth, claw and werewolves, where she quickly learned that there existed not one but many werewolf clans, at least one of which wanted to see the Werewolf King fall. One member of that clan, silver-haired Shane with his dark eyes and his excellent taste in suits, a wolf in human's clothing, instantly fell for Princess's wit and sarcasm, as much intrigued by her bratty nature as Sebastian was irritated. And so bloomed a rivalry upon which the fate of the Werewolf Clans would turn.
You play as Princess (not necessarily her actual name, more of a placeholder), and the story begins just before Princess's cancelled birthday. Her personality is up for negotiation (you should make her your character, of course), but I do have a soft-spot for brats.
Virtue and Vice
Modern, Crime drama, Action, Tragedy, Slavery, Non-consensual(?)
She was just a country girl, a simple girl with dreams too big for the wide open fields of her home, and so she went to the city to chase a brighter future. But the city, as it often does with the innocent and naive, tangled her in its dark tentacles and dragged her deep within itself, devouring her completely. She rapidly fell into debt, her talent discarded in favor of a chance to touch the innocent girl's body, until she faced a dark decision. When the crime lord's goons broke her door down and demanded recompense, she agreed, in defeat, to their terms: She would become a stripper.
He was a just thug, scarred in body and soul by the harsh streets until he had been hardened into a dangerous weapon. He finally bent knee to the mafia, selling his soul, offering his services as assassin and bodyguard in exchange for a taste of power, of the good life. With cold eyes and a dark heart, he tore his way across the mafia's enemies and brought his boss to the peak of power.
The mob boss hungered for the country girl, but her spirit had no yet broken completely. She refused to bow before him, to spread her legs for him, and so she found herself in the seediest of clubs, peeling away her dignity one garment at a time before the hungry eyes of lusty patrons. To keep her safe, the mob boss assigned his best assassin, his thug, to watch over her with his cold eyes. Only, when he saw the tears on her cheeks, his street-hardened edge softened a touch, and his eyes gained a bit of warmth, and his loyalty to his boss began to crumble.
Meanwhile, the boy from back home, the boy she had left behind, began to worry about her. So he comes to the city, with a pile of returned letters and unanswered questions, determined to find the girl he loved, unaware that his actions would precipitate a bloody conflict within the inner city.
You would play our Country Girl. Her personality and name and such is up to you (naturally, you should make her yours), but I think there should be a sweetness to her in some fashion. The story starts with her first night on the dance floor.