FireandAsh
Dust
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2018
Hi everyone!
I'm Ash, a 21 year old student on placement for a pharmaceutical company. I work 8-4 and will sometimes do overtime but can generally do a few replies a week. I'm looking for roleplays to keep me occupied. I came from GP so I'm not new to RPing, just to the site!
So to keep this relatively short and sweet, (We can always get to know each other in pm), I shall get started!
I do FxF or MxF plots and all plots below can be changed accordingly. My posts are generally quite long, depending on what my partner gives me but I am a massive fan of bringing the world to life. I also only rp in third person past tense. I am rather selective with partners but feel free to pitch your ideas to me, I'm a nice person, I swear. I also like to get to know my partner, and chat both onsite and offsite on discord. I prefer roleplaying in PM.
Here's a quick sample of my writing so you guys know if we're compatible, if you guys could share the courtesy and send me a sample of yours I'd be grateful.
Fandoms:
Witcher
Skyrim
Dragon Age
Tomb Raider
Possibly some animes
Kingkiller Chronicles
Resident Evil
Assassin's Creed
Last of Us
Shadowhunters
The Last Kingdom
Frontier
Peaky Blinders
CRAVING:
Bolded is my preferred role
More plots will be added as they come to me, feel free to give me one of your plots if none of mine appeal!
My F-list is: https://www.f-list.net/c/fireandash
I am leaning more towards story than smut right now.
Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!
I'm Ash, a 21 year old student on placement for a pharmaceutical company. I work 8-4 and will sometimes do overtime but can generally do a few replies a week. I'm looking for roleplays to keep me occupied. I came from GP so I'm not new to RPing, just to the site!
So to keep this relatively short and sweet, (We can always get to know each other in pm), I shall get started!
I do FxF or MxF plots and all plots below can be changed accordingly. My posts are generally quite long, depending on what my partner gives me but I am a massive fan of bringing the world to life. I also only rp in third person past tense. I am rather selective with partners but feel free to pitch your ideas to me, I'm a nice person, I swear. I also like to get to know my partner, and chat both onsite and offsite on discord. I prefer roleplaying in PM.
Here's a quick sample of my writing so you guys know if we're compatible, if you guys could share the courtesy and send me a sample of yours I'd be grateful.
The huntress leant against the side of the inn, listening in silence as the village voiced their woes to the village elder. The tax has been raised again, and the crops that the village grew were beginning to deplete from the king’s demands. Without a good harvest most of the village would not survive the winter. Even now they relied heavily on their huntress for meat, but when winter came, the animals would seek warmth, and even the fresh meat she could provide would dwindle. Fiyeira knew of the kings and the feasts they held for themselves daily, one man eating what would feed the small village she had settled in for two days. There had been a time where things had changed, some still remembered the empress, the kindhearted Taesha, but when she had passed, an ursurper had killed her children, and her lone grandchild had vanished, and Fiyeira did not expect his survival.
Every so often she would find herself ruminating on those days that power changed hands, wondering if she could have done something if she had not been so far, so late in hearing the news. Perhaps she could have changed things. It was too late to linger on such things now. There were more pressing things at hand, she could only hope that the elder would return with good news, news that allowed the village to keep their harvest. What she hoped and what she expected were two very different things. Her golden eyes scanned the room, watching the rather scruffy crowd as they wrung their hands and prayed for a miracle. The inn was the oldest building in the village, build by a single man almost three hundred years previous. It had been grand in its day, and Fiyeira remembered being a guest when it had first opened. Now the walls were crumbling, and there was a stout wooden beam in the centre as an attempt to keep the lopsided ceiling up. Man of the rooms had been destroyed in the last war, and none had the coin to rebuild. The bar was the only room that seemed capable of holding people, although Fiyeira knew that there was a basement below for storage and two dilapidated rooms for travellers.
It did not take long for her to tire of the villager’s complaints, she knew that several were sick, that their grain was low. She was a hunter, not a miracle worker. Perhaps she had once been more, but more and more she brushed those thoughts out of her mind. She did not have a guild, the support of a commander, not anymore, even her name was little more than legend, told excitedly by the fire of the inn at night. She wasn’t quite sure why the villagers liked the tale of the assassin which won the civil war so much, and they did tend to make it sound more grandiose than it had been, but if it gave them some form of happiness she could not complain. She straightened and made her way through the crowd silently, even the creaking floorboards did not whisper as she passed. The villagers gave her the same looks they always did, a mixture of suspicion and hesitation, of wariness. She was still relatively new to the village, and the events only a few weeks into her residence had not given the villagers any confidence in her, even if she had saved their lives.
“Might I ask where you are going, Faethe?” The village elder stopped his soothing assurances and Fiyeira turned as she reached the door.
“Hunting, if we cannot get the grain from the king, then we can at least have meat to trade for it at the next village.” She responded, one hand unlatching the door and letting it swing open.
“Safe hunting, and beware of the fae.” The elder nodded. He was perhaps the only man in the village who seemed to trust her, and had once asked if she was a witch. As amusing as the thought had been, she had declined the notion.
The day was young as she stepped out into the bright sunlight. On days like this, the village seemed lively, not downtrodden and steeped in fear of the king and his consequences. Those who were not at the meeting bustled about, caring for animals and tending to the crop fields. Children ran about, fetching things for the adults in between their games. Many were barefoot. Fiyeira’s own boots were dusty, but she had little desire to clean them before entering the forest. The brown leather reached her knees, and she had spend good money on making sure that they fit her feet. Her jodhpurs had splashes of mud on the dark material and her cream shirt seemed like it would fit a pirate rather than a hunter.
The house she did not call a home was by the edge of the forest that the village lay before, and the children feared to go past the line of the trees for more than a few minutes, sometimes daring one another to see how far they could stomach. It was known by the village as the Fae forest, with rumours that the fae royalty resided within. They did, but only when they pleased. Any forest was a fae forest, it was simply a matter of seeing if they were present. Others knew it as the No Name forest and others as Many Name forest. Fiyeira had little care as to names. The fae did not bother her, she had struck her bargain with them a long time ago, and they saw no need to tempt her with more.
Her bow and quiver lay on the kitchen table, the bowstring taught and bow supple. She had been using the enchanted weapon for much longer than she could admit to the villagers, and although she could use a regular bow, this one fit her hand like a glove, enchanted to only fire true by her hand. Of course, enchantment had not made her into a master archer, that was a skill she had honed before being gifted the bow. She slung her weapons onto her back and grabbed several daggers, she could never be too careful of wanderers in the forest, even if any assailant would meet their death by her hand.
With her gear ready she left her house, and without looking back at the village, she turned and walked directly into the woods.
(Not all posts will be this long, but I do enjoy longer posts)
Every so often she would find herself ruminating on those days that power changed hands, wondering if she could have done something if she had not been so far, so late in hearing the news. Perhaps she could have changed things. It was too late to linger on such things now. There were more pressing things at hand, she could only hope that the elder would return with good news, news that allowed the village to keep their harvest. What she hoped and what she expected were two very different things. Her golden eyes scanned the room, watching the rather scruffy crowd as they wrung their hands and prayed for a miracle. The inn was the oldest building in the village, build by a single man almost three hundred years previous. It had been grand in its day, and Fiyeira remembered being a guest when it had first opened. Now the walls were crumbling, and there was a stout wooden beam in the centre as an attempt to keep the lopsided ceiling up. Man of the rooms had been destroyed in the last war, and none had the coin to rebuild. The bar was the only room that seemed capable of holding people, although Fiyeira knew that there was a basement below for storage and two dilapidated rooms for travellers.
It did not take long for her to tire of the villager’s complaints, she knew that several were sick, that their grain was low. She was a hunter, not a miracle worker. Perhaps she had once been more, but more and more she brushed those thoughts out of her mind. She did not have a guild, the support of a commander, not anymore, even her name was little more than legend, told excitedly by the fire of the inn at night. She wasn’t quite sure why the villagers liked the tale of the assassin which won the civil war so much, and they did tend to make it sound more grandiose than it had been, but if it gave them some form of happiness she could not complain. She straightened and made her way through the crowd silently, even the creaking floorboards did not whisper as she passed. The villagers gave her the same looks they always did, a mixture of suspicion and hesitation, of wariness. She was still relatively new to the village, and the events only a few weeks into her residence had not given the villagers any confidence in her, even if she had saved their lives.
“Might I ask where you are going, Faethe?” The village elder stopped his soothing assurances and Fiyeira turned as she reached the door.
“Hunting, if we cannot get the grain from the king, then we can at least have meat to trade for it at the next village.” She responded, one hand unlatching the door and letting it swing open.
“Safe hunting, and beware of the fae.” The elder nodded. He was perhaps the only man in the village who seemed to trust her, and had once asked if she was a witch. As amusing as the thought had been, she had declined the notion.
The day was young as she stepped out into the bright sunlight. On days like this, the village seemed lively, not downtrodden and steeped in fear of the king and his consequences. Those who were not at the meeting bustled about, caring for animals and tending to the crop fields. Children ran about, fetching things for the adults in between their games. Many were barefoot. Fiyeira’s own boots were dusty, but she had little desire to clean them before entering the forest. The brown leather reached her knees, and she had spend good money on making sure that they fit her feet. Her jodhpurs had splashes of mud on the dark material and her cream shirt seemed like it would fit a pirate rather than a hunter.
The house she did not call a home was by the edge of the forest that the village lay before, and the children feared to go past the line of the trees for more than a few minutes, sometimes daring one another to see how far they could stomach. It was known by the village as the Fae forest, with rumours that the fae royalty resided within. They did, but only when they pleased. Any forest was a fae forest, it was simply a matter of seeing if they were present. Others knew it as the No Name forest and others as Many Name forest. Fiyeira had little care as to names. The fae did not bother her, she had struck her bargain with them a long time ago, and they saw no need to tempt her with more.
Her bow and quiver lay on the kitchen table, the bowstring taught and bow supple. She had been using the enchanted weapon for much longer than she could admit to the villagers, and although she could use a regular bow, this one fit her hand like a glove, enchanted to only fire true by her hand. Of course, enchantment had not made her into a master archer, that was a skill she had honed before being gifted the bow. She slung her weapons onto her back and grabbed several daggers, she could never be too careful of wanderers in the forest, even if any assailant would meet their death by her hand.
With her gear ready she left her house, and without looking back at the village, she turned and walked directly into the woods.
(Not all posts will be this long, but I do enjoy longer posts)
Fandoms:
Witcher
Skyrim
Dragon Age
Tomb Raider
Possibly some animes
Kingkiller Chronicles
Resident Evil
Assassin's Creed
Last of Us
Shadowhunters
The Last Kingdom
Frontier
Peaky Blinders
CRAVING:
Bolded is my preferred role
Muse A is a top-notch detective drafted to a particularly troubled city to capture an infamous gang leader. Unfortunately for him Muse B is smart, running circles around the detective until they’re both faced with a bigger adversary. The mayor of the town is shot during a re-election campaign and a new, rising serial killer claims responsibility, beginning to tear the already troubled city apart. With nowhere else to turn, Muse A decides to shelve their pride and ask Muse B for help and together they must find the serial killer before they continue their killing streak. Following leads of gruesome torture scenes, both Muses find themselves trusting each other more than planned.
They soon discover that they’re stuck in a game of cat and mouse, but aren’t sure if they are meant to be the cat or the mouse in the situation. When the serial killer reveals private details from both of their lives they have to suspect that someone they both know is betraying them, or trying to kill them.
They soon discover that they’re stuck in a game of cat and mouse, but aren’t sure if they are meant to be the cat or the mouse in the situation. When the serial killer reveals private details from both of their lives they have to suspect that someone they both know is betraying them, or trying to kill them.
To find the future emperor (Muse A) a wife, a huge festival is held in which every eligible female is invited. A huge ball is only the start of the celebrations and the start of the shocks to come. A princess (Muse B) arrives from a country that the empire took by force and now a princess in nothing more than name. Her country is angry, rebellious and the fact that she is at the ball is enough to raise a few eyebrows. The whispers of ‘traitor’ follow her about as she attends the festival but none can guess her true reasons to be at the ball, after all, no one expects an assassin to wear a beautiful dress. The future emperor has never considered how her country was taken and his opinions on how the empire was formed begins to change, but whether he can win her over before she finds the perfect moment to strike is entirely dubious.
The king has decided on his heir. The younger of two sons is the more obedient of the two and the easiest to control. To celebrate this wondrous choice, a grand competition is held for ladies throughout the land to try and win his son’s hand in marriage, even peasants are allowed to attend. A rebellion for the wicked king is rising through the lands and a group of these rebels sees the competition as the perfect chance to infiltrate and kill the king. Sending one of their own in, Muse A must win the competition, and then kill the king and his sons, either by herself, or find some way to allow the rebels into the palace. Of course, things never go that smoothly. She is one of those selected to remain as personal guests of the prince, a group of around fifty girls and must become friendly with him in order to win his affections.
She runs into trouble when the elder prince (Muse B) discovers her identity and decides to strike a bargain. In return for the elder prince’s help in killing his father, she must leave the younger prince alone, and become the elder prince’s escort, doing whatever he says. Despite being posed as a choice, her only other option is the gallows. Forced to accept the prince’s offer and told to go along with it by the other rebels, including her own brother, she must go along with the elder prince’s whims in order to stay alive. But is this prince really as bad as everyone says?
She runs into trouble when the elder prince (Muse B) discovers her identity and decides to strike a bargain. In return for the elder prince’s help in killing his father, she must leave the younger prince alone, and become the elder prince’s escort, doing whatever he says. Despite being posed as a choice, her only other option is the gallows. Forced to accept the prince’s offer and told to go along with it by the other rebels, including her own brother, she must go along with the elder prince’s whims in order to stay alive. But is this prince really as bad as everyone says?
To mark the start of a new king’s reign, a grand tournament is held. This tournament is unique however, as it is a chance for prisoners to fight for their freedom. Every noble or rich patron worth a damn has chosen their own champion from the prisons. To try and prove their worth to their father, the king, or simply as an act of defiance, the prince/princess (Muse A) has also chosen a champion, and this champion is determined to get their freedom, no matter what it takes. Fighting fair is not really in the books and neither is behaving and the prince/princess soon finds their hands full as their prisoner, a former assassin (Muse B), is let loose released into their custody for the tournament.
The assassin was thrown into prison many years before after a failed attempt to murder the emperor and all but forgotten. Expecting to find an elderly man, Muse A instead finds a young woman, the immortal assassin. Muse B is reluctant at first but agrees to the competition, facing an introductory ball full of dangers before even reaching the tournament itself.
The assassin was thrown into prison many years before after a failed attempt to murder the emperor and all but forgotten. Expecting to find an elderly man, Muse A instead finds a young woman, the immortal assassin. Muse B is reluctant at first but agrees to the competition, facing an introductory ball full of dangers before even reaching the tournament itself.
More plots will be added as they come to me, feel free to give me one of your plots if none of mine appeal!
My F-list is: https://www.f-list.net/c/fireandash
I am leaning more towards story than smut right now.
Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!