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Author Topic: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )  (Read 1848 times)

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Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« on: January 04, 2014, 07:33:50 pm »
Fantasy Ideas:

Idea 1 - With Nymphadora HERE
The snow came floating down.

Thick, wet flakes that clung to everything, covering the ground in a fresh layer of pure white snow. It brought a calmness with it, a stillness to the air. Barely a wind to whip it into snowdrifts. This was one of Sam's favorite times.

His breath billowed into puffs of moisture every time he exhaled. His cloak was bound tight against his body, hood up, to keep him warm, the snowflakes a stark white against the black of his cloak. His under layers were green wool and leather, helping him blend in with his surroundings. He was on the hunt, afterall, and winter was his favorite time to do so.

For one, there were rarely any other hunters or trappers out braving the cold. The crispness to the air made sound carry meaning he had to be extra careful. But, on the bright side, there were no twigs to snap, treeroots to get snarled in, and it was far easier to track an animal in fresh snowfall then in the otherwise dense brush and foliage. He had cut off the first two fingers of his right-hand glove, in order to grasp the bowstring better. But he had stitched them back on in a way that made them act like covers - able to keep his fingers warm when needed.

He was currently tracking a deer through the woods. He pressed himself up against the trunk of a tree before cautiously peeking his head around the corner. The deer was using its hoof to dig down through the top layer of snow to get at the food beneath it. It's side was facing Sam and he drew in a short breath, reaching for a bow before carefully notching it to his bowstring. He went to one knee, leaning around the tree and drew in a deep breath as he pulled the bowstring back.

Something was not right. He wrinkled his nose and relaxed his arm, letting the bowstring sag forward once more. The deer perked its head up, ears standing on end, but it wasn't facing him. There was something else. There was the smell of smoke on the air.

Sam sheathed the arrow and stood up, slinging his bow over his shoulder. The deer startled and bolted off into the woods. Sam felt a cold bead of sweat roll down his face as he realized just what was happening. This was no smoke from a campfire. No. This was the smoke from a burning village.

Sam started forward through the snow, snowshoes leaving large footprints behind, as he began to jog back to the village, trying all the while to suppress the growing fear and anxiety that built up in his chest.

The Warrior and The Boy

Richard felt a searing pain in the back of his shoulder and fell forward. His eyes remained open for a few seconds more, long enough to see a torch arch through the air and land in the thatching of his families tavern. The first flames began to lick at the thatch as darkness finally took him, his face resting on the soft grass where he had fallen. The soft laughter of the three men behind him was the last thing he heard.

They had arrived separately hours before. The Inn had been quiet at the time. A recent rain storm had kept travelers off the road. Only a few other patrons were in the Inn when the last had arrived and Richard had been tasked with serving them as he had finished rolling a fresh barrel of ale from the pantry. They had talked in hush tones and had gone silent every time he had approached. But Richard had learned what he could of them.

One man had a scar down the side of his face. His armor was dented in places and stained in others. Richard had instantly marked him as some one who was no stranger to combat or death. A dangerous man, if he had ever seen one.

The second man wore finer clothes and Richard had caught a glint of chainmail underneath his cloak. The man kept shifting uncomfortably and the mail had enough shine to it to let Richard know that it was rarely worn. Based on the livery, and the fancy hawk insignet on the mans ring, he had marked this man as a Noble of some sort.

The third man wore leather armor under his cloak and a bow was wrapped in deerskin to protect it from the elements. All of his clothing was dark and he kept his hood up at all times, shrouding his face in darkness. A hunter, Richard had thought, perhaps disfigured from an encounter with a wild animal.

Richard had gone to tend to the horses and was up in the hayloft, shifting a bale around, when he heard voices. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he couldn't help it. And he wished he hadn't, over hearing the conversation as it was. He waited for them to leave before deciding to make his escape. But the cloaked one, he had been waiting, along with the other two. He tried to plead with them, that he wouldn't tell anyone. But they would have none of it. They were going to kill him and his family.

Richard had ran, back towards the Inn, when the soft twang of a bowstring preceded the thump of arrow into flesh. Richard had gone sprawling face first into the mud, a fire burning in his shoulder. He heard the men behind him laughing as they lit and torch and set fire to the Inn, having locked its outer door. And that was when the darkness had taken him.

If this interests you, I am looking for a female counterpart, a female warrior of a sort who has been wronged by the scar-face man in the past and has been trying to track him down ever since. PM me for further information.


An expedition to the west, to explore new lands and bring back untold riches. What could possibly go wrong?

Dargoth was thrilled to finally see land on the horizon after weeks of sailing with out a single sighting. Food supplies and fresh water were running low and he felt like he had salt from sea-spray all over his body. They itched his skin raw and he could not wait to bathe once more! His weapons and armor - foreign lands weren't safe were they? - were safely stored below in soft deerskins that were waterproof.

The sighting of land made all his pains and worries go away and he felt a renewed sense of energy among the crew. But not all was going to go well. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon and soon whipped the waves into a frenzy. He basked in the rain, mouth open, letting it wash the salt from his skin and fill his mouth with fresh, cool water. It was heavenly, until the storm took a turn for the worse.

Rogue waves washed men overboard and he lashed himself to the deck. Powerful winds snapped the mizen-mast and the main, sending more sailors to their death. The rest became a blur as the wind, rain, and waves battered and pounded the ship. A sickening crunch that jolted every bone in his body suggested they had run aground but the waves continued to batter the ship to pieces. It wasn't long before he was knocked out cold.

He awoke, sprawled on a sandy beach, wreckage all about him. He seemed to be in one piece, but where were the others?

The Dar'Shadur

Blood streamed down his body. He could not count the wounds he had suffered. Yet he fought on, ignoring the pain. An arrow through his shoulder, another protruding from his back, weren't going to slow him down. He didn't even feel the pain.

His skin glimmered in the fire light as his village burned. Flames licked out towards him, caressing his skin, but leaving it unmarred. The screams of the wounded and dying fell on deaf ears. His feet padded softly over the desert sand, his body moving gracefully. One could almost see his body tattoos swirling with his movements.

His bloodied sword in one hand, his hunting spear in the over, he danced the dance of death. The Iron Clads, as they were called, feel to spear thrust and sword slash. His powerful muscles bulged with each blow.

But he was waning. His foot slipped in a puddle of blood. A scimitar open a gash across his shoulders. His vision began to blur. He yelled in pain and anguish, bringing his sword down on the head of his nearest assailaint, splitting it clean in two, sword only coming to a stop when it was firmly between the mans shoulders. But it became stuck. He fell to his knee, sweeping his spear in a wide arc around him as he released the sword.

And then something hard hit him on the back of his head, causing the darkness to finally close in over him.

[This is a tale of a secret group of Assassins, the Dar'Shadur, who are born into their life, all marked by some form of tattoos. They posses special powers. My character, here, is a Tribesman who is captured and brought to a Slave Market, where a Mistress - a member of the Dar'Shadur - see's him for who he is and purchases him. But this is a new world and a new life to My Character - how will he respond to having his people murdered, his life now a slave, and being told he posses magic?]

I am Legend

Gori Ironhair was alone. He was the last living Dwarf of the Underhold.

His cloak was in tatters so he exchanged with a mostly whole one from a Dwarf who would no longer be needing it. His battle-ax was still sharp - all Dwarven steel was - but chipped. His arms were tired from using it in constant battle. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. Blood trickled down his face from a cut above his eye. He refilled his empty quiver and adjusted his bow across his chest once more. He drank the last of his Fire Ale, quenching his parched throat, and rummaged around for another drinking horn. Luckily, he found one.

Unearthly cries from behind him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end once more. He patted the satchel at his hip and turned towards the Door. It was the singularly most terrifying thing he had known in his entire existence. It was even more terrifying to him then the creatures that had come forth out of the Underdark. This Door, carved in Dwarvish Runes, lead to the Overworld, a place no Dwarf had stepped foot in over 500 years.

And he was about to open that door and do just that.

The Kings Guard lay dead all around him, including the King who had given him this greatest task, this satchel, and the key to the door. Gori had never been a part of more units or full of more honor then he was now.

He had been part of the Dark Watch - a group of Dwarves who operated in the Underdark, protecting the miners seeking more materials. They guarded several key points and had been the first to fall. Gori had survived with a handful of others, making it back to the Second Watch - a defensive line formed long ago. When that had fallen, Gori found himself fighting with Moras Marauders, an elite unit. But they too had fallen and Gori had survived once more. Eventually he had fallen back to the Kings Guard as chaos descended on his peoples Kingdom. Runners had been dispatched along the Hidden Ways towards the other Dwarven Kingdoms, calling for aid, but the Hidden Ways had not been used in years and there was no telling what inhabited them these days.

So, with his dying breath, King Highar Runestone tasked Gori with traveling the Overworld.

And Gori was scared.

He didn't have much time though. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, he inserted the key into the Door and stood back, watching as it opened. Gori held his breath and found himself greatly disappointed when it simply revealed an old Miners tunnel. He had been expecting something so much more. Closing the door behind him, sealing it shut in the process, Gori began to march up the tunnel. The King had told him to go, so he would. He quickly noted that the slope of the tunnel led upwards and he could soon feel the breeze of a cool, fresh air.

He was getting close to the surface, to the Overworld.

[Basically looking for some one that Gori runs into in the Overworld. Dwarves are, for all intents and purposes, creatures of Legend, a race of humanoids who have not been seen on the Overworld (the surface, where Elves and Man live) in 500 years - so no one is around who has even seen a Dwarf before.]
« Last Edit: April 19, 2014, 01:06:02 pm by MagicalPen »

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #1 on: January 07, 2014, 09:16:48 am »
Sci-Fi Ideas:

Lost in Space with Namira HERE
Konrad awoke, choking on the fluid in his throat. He coughed violently, ripping the monitor connections off his cold skin as he leaned forward, half falling out the Cyro-Tube, to heave the contents of his stomach onto the grated floor - designed for such an instance. He coughed some more, films of saliva trailing from his lips to the floor. He wiped them clear with the back of his mouth, even as his body started to tingle.

The cocktail of drugs that had been injected into his body to wake him from Cyro-sleep were starting to have their effect. His body began to warm though it wasn't the pleasant sort of warmth a naked body felt in warm air. No, it was an internal, artificial warmth. His bones were still cold, his muscles still stiff, his lungs still hurt with every breath he took. Only proper exercise to get the blood pumping again would warm him up, combined with a long hot steaming shower.

His mind was the slowest part of him to wake back up and thats when he began to notice his surroundings.

Where were the doctors that were meant to ease you back into things after Cyro-Sleep? Where was the Crew? As Konrad sat on his haunches, straightening his back to look around, his senses came back to him. Flashing red lights complimentated the sound of an Alarm. An artificial voice, on repeat, could be heard too.

Do not panic. Move to the closest Escape Pods. Abandon ship - abandon ship. Do not panic. Move to the closest... He blinked his eyes, shaking his head to clear it of the last cobwebs? Abandon ship? What the fuck was going on?

He punched in the keycode to his locker and pulled on his clothes - a jumpsuit that would help regulate his core temperatures and monitor his survival signs. It was designed to also add compression around an area if he was wounded. It was standard issue to everyone on the Colony ship and fit nicely underneath his Marine-issue Combat Suit, which was in a nearby compartment. He glanced at the Tube next to his, then cringed. The glass was shattered, his subordinates face a bloody pulp. At least it had been painless, he thought.

As he moved down the hallway to retrieve his combat suit, the ship was rocked by a loud explosion. Comms were done so he was operating in the dark. "Got to get in my suit...then get off this damned ship..." He murmured, willing his stiff, cold muscles to propel himself down the hallway.

Thats when the internal gravity turned off...

Expedition Alpha-Delta-Phi
Expedition Rangers were the elite survivalists of the Federation. They operated in two-man teams and were trained and equipped to survive in virtually all environments. Their ships were small, sleek, and extremely fast and were strictly used in the exploration of far-out systems. They could travel at twice the speed of any other ship due to their size. But they also had a high fatality rating - lots could go wrong when you were all alone in an unexplored system.

But the role came with a lot of prestige. You got to name the planets you explored and got a share of all exports from said planets - if you lived long enough to claim them of course. Expedition teams often had a month - if not longer - on a planet before the colonists arrived. Enough time to scout it out, arrange a suitable landing strip, and determine if the colonist should stay or move on. For the teams, the Colonists were their ride home - their small ships were strictly one-way ships.

For Expedition team Alpha-Delta-Phi (ExADP) this was their first mission together and they had a much longer distance to travel. Will they be able to survive on this unexplored planet?

« Last Edit: April 19, 2014, 01:07:16 pm by MagicalPen »

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #2 on: January 12, 2014, 06:47:24 pm »
Modern Ideas:

Surviving with Damnedangel HERE
The World was dead.

The exact sequence of events - at least those that were known - didn't matter anymore.

There wasn't even a point in trying to figure out WHAT had happened or WHY it happened. All that mattered now was that it HAD happened.

The end result was the same - society, civilization even, as we know it imploded. The first month was the worst month. Mass riots, starvation, death. So many died. If it were possible to document such a crisis, estimates would be upwards of 90% of the worlds population died in that first month alone. Urban areas were hit the worst - huge population centers were death zones. People were also talking about Zombies in places but none of those reports could be confirmed. There were no hordes of the un-dead roaming around.

But if you survived that first month, well, you were a survivor. You had to do what you had to do. But life wasn't about to get any easier. No - now that only the strong remained, things were going to get worse.

-Looking for a Female Lead, I will be playing a Male Lead-

The Teachers Pet
Sarah was the beautiful, popular girl in school. She was also intelligent and used her looks to get whatever she wanted. She had boys tripping over each other just to help her with her homework or even carry her books. She flirted and teased with them but never gave into their desires. No, she had her sights set on one very specific person - her married teacher. She flirts the most with him and he is finding it harder and harder to resist her temptations. But what she offers is more then anything his rather vanilla wife can offer and before long he has giving in to Sarah, but not by submitting to her. No, she encourages him to take what he wants, to dominate her.
« Last Edit: April 20, 2014, 02:39:51 pm by MagicalPen »

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #3 on: January 16, 2014, 12:57:44 pm »
Still no takers? Lots of nibbles, no bites yet.

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #4 on: January 18, 2014, 02:57:29 pm »
Added a Sci-Fi idea.

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #5 on: January 26, 2014, 11:21:27 am »
The LOST IN SPACE idea may potentially be taken.

The rest are still open as people aren't committing to them yet.

Offline Sorrows Solace

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Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #6 on: January 27, 2014, 08:37:45 pm »
Darn it I really was interested in the Lost in Space idea, though the Last Dwarf idea is neat- I can see a quest seeking lost glory or a new place in the world working nicely.

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #7 on: February 13, 2014, 01:45:39 pm »
Updated with taken ideas and a new sci fi idea.

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #8 on: April 19, 2014, 01:22:00 pm »
Re-opened one idea.
Added a MODERN IDEAS post.

Offline MagicalPenTopic starter

Re: Your Turn! ( M seeking F )
« Reply #9 on: April 20, 2014, 02:40:02 pm »
Added the Teachers Pet.