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Author Topic: New M seeking F for Reality or Sword & Sorcery RP  (Read 880 times)

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New M seeking F for Reality or Sword & Sorcery RP
« on: November 03, 2010, 06:24:40 am »

I am brand new here as well as to RPing. I am looking for a sweet and patient female partner, preferable one who is, maybe, age 30+. I sort of feel uncomfortable playing with younger girls, but I am open to it if it does not bother you. I enjoy realistic stories of sexual encounters in various settings. I also like story lines that are drawn out and detailed. As far as fantasy goes, I like sword and sorcery, Vikings, maybe the Dracula type of vampire tale. I also am into historical fiction and would research as I play in order to make it more realistic. I'm not into characters who cuss every other word, but I like to be graphic/explicit in my descriptions of sex. Within the above constraints I am open for any story line/scenario: Just to throw out a few ideas:

-A lumberjack falls for a socialite whose car breaks down in front of a rural diner

-A sexy blond chainsaw artist falls for one of her clients

-A Viking/barbarian captures a virgin princess

-A love affair between an Imperial Russian aristocrat and a peasant

These are just reflective of personal interests and may not seem very exciting, but as I said, I am open to just about any scenario and I would like you to choose it and sort of lead me along as I try to learn the RP ropes. As far as writing style goes, below is a sample I submitted in response to a prompt from one of the mentors.

Time seemed to stand still; not unlike the blue heron that stood motionless amongst the cattails just ahead of him. He, too, stood without moving a muscle; only his eyes were in motion as he scanned the landscape about him. Nothing stirred except the tall grasses and leaves in a slight breeze. No unusual sounds reached his ears; no odd aromas met his nostrils. He relaxed. Turning his head this way and that he took in his surroundings. He found himself in a golden meadow ringed by a forest that looked dark and mysterious. Behind him and over the tree line the crest of a mighty, snow-capped mountain cut into the azure sky. A smile crept onto his lips. Looking down he saw on the ground before him a shirt of chain mail, a horned helmet, and a three foot long broadsword. He explored his now muscular form. He was attired in a leather jerkin, a fur loincloth, and great leather boots. Throwing his fisted hands toward the clouds he lifted his face and bellowed in unbridled joy.

The blue heron took to graceful flight when the new barbarian began to don his gear and slice at the air with his sword. With a bit of disappointment he noticed that he could swing the hefty blade but two times before he had to lower it. "No big deal," he thought, "I'm just tired from the journey." "Ah, the journey," he mused. How many years of his life had he longed with an aching longing to be caught up in a world not his own. He had felt so out of place in his world of monkey suits, rush hour traffic, staff meetings, and the woes of a boring marriage. How long had he dreamed; devouring the myriad fantasy books in his library; writing his fantastic imaginary exploits in which he wreaked havoc on trolls and dragons and mighty warriors. By sword, ax, and spear he had put the fear of God into the hearts of all who encountered him. He was the ultimate fighter, the berserker, the master of his realm. And what of the fair maidens he had rescued; rewarded by a night of exotic love. Yes, his dream life had been his savior, but only the reality of his dreams would be his salvation.

Oh, the glorious day when the stranger appeared. Walking out of the mists of an autumn morning into the realm of the dreamer, he had brought to pass the salvation our hero long awaited. "Your request has been granted," were the only words the stranger had said. And passing a gnarly hand before the eyes of the dreamer, he vanished. That was all our hero could remember of the moments just before his arrival in this new world. "Unbelievable...," he muttered as he slid his helmet onto his head and raised his sword to the sky. Summoning up his deepest voice he shouted, "I am...," and fell silent. "Well, who am I," he thought. His answer was interrupted by a new question that boomed across the meadow. "Who goes there?!" sounded a guttural voice. The dreamer turned to see a massive form emerging from the dense forest a stones throw away. With lengthy and determined strides the newcomer made his way toward our hero. He was brandishing a huge battle ax and bore a menacing visage. Startled at first, our barbarian quickly assumed his new role: "Hark," he cried, "Art thou friend or foe?" The newcomer's answer came as fast as his stride carried him. In a heartbeat he was upon our hero and, lifting his ax high above his head, he brought it down with fury onto the helmet of our hapless dreamer, splitting his skull to the teeth.

The sun began to set over the distant mountain. Long blue shadows grew across the meadow, deepening the red of the blood that pooled about the crumpled form of the lifeless dreamer. Laughter and drunken song wafted by on the evening breeze. A large blue heron soared across the sky and, flapping its enormous wings, came to rest amidst the cattails, motionless in the fast-approaching night.