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/ By leonconnors [+Watch]

Replies: 6 / 9 years 200 days 14 hours 16 minutes 54 seconds

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This is where I put some of my roleplay ideas.


Feel free to steal them, edit them, play them to your whims. Ideas are nothing if they are not shared.


I also save unfinished posts here. Read if you want spoilerssssss

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Roleplay Responses

♊ A Fractured Peace ♊



In the past, there was only carnage. The Children of the Night fed as they pleased. They reigned over this powerless new race called the humani. Weak and defenseless, the humans were truly powerless slaves to their cold-blooded immortal masters. It was not long before they stopped resisting and this new race was in danger of coming to extinction.


That was until Isidore Sangre came to the aid of the humani. He had always admired the humani for their will, their ability to thrive amidst everything. The vampire elder was the leader of the coven, an equal to his cousin Count Primus, favoured child of Lamia. Reasoning with the count was impossible. Primus simply refused to believe the humani to be the true successors of their race and that it was time for the Night Children to retreat to the shadows.

Those who shared Isidore Sangre's beliefs came to be known as the Strigoi. For showing compassion to the humani, heaven granted Isidore and his followers the ability to walk under the glare of the sun. They were also able to keep their strength without much dependence to blood.

Those who stayed loyal to the Count was favoured by Lamia and Lilith herself. They were gifted with that ability to harness the powers of the mind. Blood not only sustained them, it fuelled their newfound ability.

Rafael De Silva of the Strigoi and Serio Moretti of the Lamiai are the current succesors to their respective covens, the finest warriors since Isidore and Primus themselves. The war would have continued for another decade if it weren't for an unexpected twist of fate. In one of their duels, Serio Moretti had lost footing and would have crashed below a twenty-storey building if it weren't for the Strigoi warrior catching a firm grip of his arm. The Lamia would have survived the fall no doubt. But the duel lasted until dawn and the sun was fast approaching. Certain death would have claimed him before he was recovered enough to retreat to a shade.


The debt was repaid when Serio saved a female Strigoi from being mauled by wolves on a certain night she was injured and defenceless from a vicious fight with his men. The woman turned out to be Jen Sangre, Rafael's beloved mate.


The truce that came after was no surprise. The covens have grown weary of the war and it was clear that human civilization have grown too large to annihilate. Both agreed that the inevitable conclusion of further carnage would only result to the death of their race.


Serio and Rafael became blood brothers and once again, the Vampire Coven was united as one. The pact they made was simple: No humani would be drained of their precious blood if no harm was to befall on any single Lamiai. A Lamiai that falls in the hands of a Strigoi must be avenged with blood. The same goes for the other.


Jen Sangre had a sister. And no one could have foreseen that it will be because of her that the truce would break as quickly as it had been made.




You see, Camille Sangre was in love with Rafael, her own sister's bethroted. And as much as she loved her sister, she won't be denied of the man she believed to be rightfully hers. In the night of the full moon, Camille Sangre managed to kill Serio's second-in-command and escape unseen. All she had to do was leave an ordinary looking dagger bearing the Strigoi crest.


When the Lamiai came to collect blood, Camille offered her life without fear, knowing what will happen next. In a blink of an eye, her sister was in front of her, fangs bared to anyone who would do as much as look at Camille. It was Serio alone, who dared come forward and remind her the nature of the truce.


"Rafael has to know that I came willingly. Stop him at all costs from trying to rescue me. Remind him that it is his duty. Also, tell him, please tell him little sister, that I love him."


It was a week until Rafael returned. And the Strigoi's legendary rage literally brought everyone to their knees. By then, the Lamiai have already left Europe and moved to somewhere unknown in America. Even if he knew of their location, the woman he loved would have been long dead.




A masquerade ball will be held in celebration of the truce between the two covens. A century has came to pass. Every single Strigoi and Lamiai would be there, along with various clans that had formed they had formed alliance with.


Rafael De Silva was of course, present. The same goes for Serio Moretti. For the former, it was easy to spot the Lamia across the dance floor. The girl who Moretti held in his arms must be the fiancee he had met in America, or so Camille told him. With undisguised jealousy, he watched as the Lamia leader twirl his partner with easy grace, the tall dark-haired woman now facing his direction. She was unmasked.


And in the split second that their eyes met, everything faded away.


Without a doubt, the woman was Jen Sangre.


............................................................




Looking for one specific female to take on the role of Jen Sangre. This roleplay is not first come first serve.


I enjoy what I like to describe as a 'chaptered storybook' roleplay. Each post we do is like a new chapter of a book. Each chapter holds new intricacies and perspectives. You should have an idea about balancing responsibility for your post in terms of how far you go in progressing the story, while still making sure the story doesn't get stale. Simply put, be risque - but don't be absurd.


This roleplay is not original. It was taken from someone I used to roleplay with a long time ago. I enjoyed it. I think it was one of the last times where I actually had fun roleplaying.

  stapler / 91d 6h 32m 38s
cold
  leonconnors / 7y 135d 8h 27m 40s
♈♈♈~I hope this isn't too late. I was busy sharpening your axe, and polishing your armour. I have no fear of what may happen to you, but I worry for the demons who might foolishly crowd your way, nag at the back of your mind, tell you to give in to the dark swirling shadow that is the unpredictable and dangerous future. I worry only that you may become distracted with doubt or some unimportant detail and lose sight of your duty as lightbearer for the rest of us who follow you.

Know this: the rest of us have seen the future, and what happens in the next shadowed hours mean nothing. No man with honour can ever die. If you wake in Valhalla tomorrow, then keep the chair next to you empty for when I arrive.
Be brave, brother, like I know you are. When death comes, laugh and I will laugh with you. If it is your time, wait for the rest of us in Valhalla. No man lives forever, but the brave are eternal. Be the fire that lights the way, and hold your chin high so the rest of us can follow your fearless lead. Your courage is the raging tempest that give those weaker than you the momentary fire to stand tall in the hopes they can meet your shadow. Some time, some where, some one will will think of you when they are lost and alone and wish to give up. They will think of you and push on, and succeed and conquer their fears.

When sleep comes, know that you never end, but a new plane becomes. Worry not about the tendrils of slumbers haunt, but feel your grip on the handle of your weapon. Be brave like I know you are; be the man others look to as a symbol of courage.

In the hours that come you may wake from your battle here, or you may wake in Valhalla, with your brothers and mine. If you do, raise a glass and sing for your heroes. Know that you are immortal, because nothing can destroy courage. There is no force that can mute the flame that fearless men inspire in the rest of us.

I want to believe that although I know fear and doubt may rally against you, you will raise your chin, and stand beside me. You will be the one I look to when I need courage in the silent, lonely moments of my life. Going forward into the dark, know that you are never alone, and as my brother, you will always be immortal.

I do not know you, but I love you; brother. Be brave, like I know you are.
  Nordus / leonconnors / 7y 301d 7h 23m 4s

♊ [Empire of Dirt] ♊

The empire of lies stands on the stones of the people who allow it to be so.


Nearly three centuries have elapsed since the closing of the Gale Wars and the rise of Chancellor Corigan's rule. For nearly three hundred years since the empire's Pyrrhic victory over their enemies, its people have felt the strangling crush of the Chancellor's iron will. Terror tore through the ages, fear a weapon far more effective than the crack of a whip. Fear broke them, broke them beyond repair. Fear of being gutted on the streets by Imperial Dragoons was a nightmare that was no farther than usually an arm's length away. What was worse, was that the stench of the mangled bodies infused intoxicatingly with the vile perfume of corruption and terrible, terrible supression.


But in the torrid wastes blooms achingly vivid hatred; remorse. Regilus Voxus is a renegade of his own kind. All too often he sees the seeds of a revolution sown into infertile concrete, only to be torn and trampled by the contemptuous hooves of nobles long past the point of respectable sanity. Sneering noble by day, Voxus realizes that he is the closest that this troubled empire will ever have for a chance to see it all burn and start over again. But to him, finding how to make it all take to ashes proves most challenging.

So he takes it further than he'd ever imagined. He found sparks flew better with cold, thick steel. Blood ignited openly through the weeping wounds suffered by flesh. And it had all become some elaborate game, a hilariously gruesome game of whose blood was to spill next, and he had little doubt that his was soon. It was just how much he could achieve before his own time came for Judgement. He sought secrets, black and certainly not the pretty ones. Swift, cautious fingers threaded in between the cracks, parting the vulnerable folds to reveal secrets that ached to be plucked.


But Judgement is no lover that waits patiently for his warmth. He deals his own sort of justice in his own twisted way, reveling delightedly in the chaos he weaves in the patchwork of the Empire. Each spark runs down the thread he spins, until they all ignite into trails of broken ashes. They don't notice it, he thinks, the edges of their fortress being sloughed away. But glittering eyes watch him intently in places of his life he does not want them to see, and a hood and a cape is not enough to conceal everything that he knows. They grasp viciously for his unsuspecting back; a knife twists into the leather of his coat. But it's not enough. Flesh wounds do not kill the idea behind the man. He realizes that it has grown ever more important to do what must be done lest the flesh wound become fatal in the next turn of their blade. And what better way to begin than to take from them what they love?

A revolution begins with a dying ember, to become the conflagration of change.


--------------------------------------------


This roleplay will be a 1 x 1. I'm looking for an imaginative, interactive woman to step up to the pedestal. Mutual effort will be expected. Posting times are allowed loose constraints, but try to keep it to at least a post or two a week. The plot also revolves around the concept of a storybook roleplay - much of the plot will involve heavy conception of ideas from the roleplayers themselves. What I've written is only to whet your palate on what I've dreamed up so far.


So, you may ask, where do you come in? Perhaps you were a young street urchin, grown into a devilishly handsome, yet treacherous lady of the night, offering her particular services for the better or worse of the slums. Or in another instance, you take the role of a noblewoman, raised in the blissful ignorance of the high society and beyond. Even the adventurous young daughter of a noble family, gone to find her place in life and explore the reality of the slums, will fit perfectly in this story. But what you write, is up to you.


This roleplay is not a first come first serve basis. PM me if you're interested. Chat with me if you'd like. Maybe I'll like you, maybe you'll hate me. We'll see where it goes.

  leonconnors / 7y 135d 7h 53m 31s


And here the buzz of eager nations ran,

In murmur'd pity, or loud-roar'd applause,

As man was slaughter'd by his fellow man.

And wherefore slaughter'd? wherefore, but because

Such are the bloody Circus' genial laws

And the imperial pleasure.--Wherefore not?

What matters where we fall to fill the maws

Of worms--on battle-plains or listed spot?

Both are but theatres--where the chief actors rot.




I see before me the Gladiator lie:

He leans upon his hand--his manly brow

Consents to death, but conquers aging

And his droop'd head sinks gradually low--

And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow

From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,

Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now

The arena swims around him--he is gone,

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.




He heard it, but he heeded not--his eyes

Were with his heart, and that was far away;

He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize,

But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,

Stol'n by the blade and broken by the flay,

Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday--

All this rush'd with his blood--Shall he die

And unavenged? Arise, ye Goths, and sieze your revenge!




'While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;

'When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;

'And when Rome falls--the World.' From our own land

Thus spake the pilgrims o'er this mighty wall.

In Saxon times, which we are wont to call

Ancient, and these three mortal things are still

On their foundations, and unalter'd all

Rome and her ruin past Redemption's skill,

The World, the same wide den--of thieves, or what ye will.




Regilus Gaius Voxus stands as the most powerful gladiator of his day. Crowds scream when he swings steel, roar when he draws blood. Undefeated, he has lived longer than any gladiator is expected to survive. But this is no mere stroke of luck. His blood carries noble Nordic blood, descended from the gods of Northern mythology. Forsaken, cursed, and a fallen half god despised by his own father, he was abandoned, alone, shacked to fulfill a life without destiny. Regilus spent his days fighting for a life he found becoming less valuable by every moon that passed.

He lived only to see another day.

A Roman of noble birth saw strength and compassion where others saw death. She braved gladiator pits and dungeon cells to visit him nearly every night. A daughter of the bluest bloods, queen of Rome, wife of the Emperor Cassius, loved Regilus, gladiator or not. And most likely, the consequence of the discovery of their relationship would have him killed and her disgraced.



But she was not the only one who watched him.

His father Njord, saw potential. Power. Ambition. Reasoning. Danger that threatened his throne. He wanted no man but him on the throne of the gods, for his own ambition was rivaled by none. Zeus saw a child. Neglected, lost, furious. But a soul that wanted nothing more than redemption. To prove he was worthy of a role in this world.

He would get his chance soon.

The Greek gods paid no homage to the Nordics, and rightfully so. Zeus led the greatest Pantheon of gods the heavens had ever seen. Yet, Njord and his brother Loki grew jealous of the power the God of Thunder possessed. They tricked him, fooling him into losing his great power over the heavens, and spread the dark stain of chaos across the realm of the gods. The world fled into panic, two sides pitched into a mortal battle no one could ever win.



Regilus wielded the power of neutrality. Neither good nor evil took his heart. Only a chaotic sense of what was right or wrong made him immune to the destruction that corrupted the souls of so many. And, perhaps, only he can pass through the fires of the Underworld unscarred to return the former peace the world demands.



I wrote this thing almost three years ago. It's been almost a year since I've wanted to write anything either, and it seems to come and go. Not really sure anymore, but I'm looking for one specific female character to take the role of the queen of Rome here. This is not a first come first serve deal. PM me your interest, and we'll see if it rouses anything.

  dreams / leonconnors / 5y 240d 23h 15m 49s
A test to make sure my MS Word doesn't fuck me over again.
  .Tuck. / leonconnors / 9y 23d 10h 35m 54s
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