Post by Sylvan on Sept 19, 2021 9:42:48 GMT -5
I am an advanced/novella writer seeking GMs of similar background. When you message me include a writing sample or you're unlikely to receive anything in reply; my own will be included below, taken from a RP I act as the GM for in a universe of my creation. This post is largely meant to be a compilation of various ideas that occasionally float into my head relating to my Sylvan OC. If that isn't something that's up your alley, feel free to read it all the same and toss any criticism my way in regards to the writing or otherwise ways I might improve. Cheers. Also, yes, I totally ripped that title off from Deep Space 9.
docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJhNKSk232Ha7jL3V_FeS3Ajtq8s5tlQrQjc8/edit
The Wrath of Haven.
Now her hand is raised,
A sword to pierce the sun
With iron shield she defends the faithful
Let chaos be undone
- Victoria 1:3
Sylvan was Inquisitior. It was not a position she'd ever desired, and, arguably, it was not a position she was good at either. When she'd accepted it had been to stitch a hole in the sky- and now... many thought of her as a runaway, vulgar terrorist that they'd made the greatest mistake in giving power to. Tolerating what she'd turned their last hope into was a matter only of survival; only they could stop the Venatori, only she could seal the Rifts. If only the Herald of Andraste hadn't been a elven mage from across the border with a chip on her shoulder and a thirst for vengeance, then, perhaps, things might have worked out the way they wanted it to.
Before she was Inquisitor, before there was an Inquisition, all she'd been was a fugitive slave escaping whatever horrors her Tevinter masters would inflict on her. She hadn't meant to turn her mistress into bloody viscera across the highway, though she was sure they accused her of having intended it long ago. Her emotions simply got the better of her, lessons about discipline and controlling her temper forgotten in one brief flash of rage when the woman's hands grew too liberal and her restraints too lose. Before long her bodyguards laid dead, her mages scattered or disarmed, and the woman herself, months later, still being collected and scraped off the floor.
It took some time to convince a Dalish tribe to take her in, the wild and untrusting beings they were, which was made all the more surprising when they agreed that they ought to take a more active interest in the mage rebellion consuming the world. It was, after all, the lowest of times for the human kingdoms- their armies still had yet to recover from the Darkspawn, from the hordes of refugees from Kirkwall, and the rebellion, and...
One crisis after another. Every bit of pain Ferelden suffered was an opportunity for those that had lived beneath them for so long- why would they not work together? The Dalish had survived for centuries by themselves- who knew what they could do with an ally? One who had already proven that they could resist the Chantry? They even had a charismatic mage to meet with them, one who had experience killing templars and being crushed by the boot of autocracy.
She would meet with the mages, and, together, they would force change.
That was the idea anyways. It seemed like a good one too, until the mountain exploded.
The worst parts of Inquisition to me are how whitewashed and apolitical the Inquisition is. This RP would touch a lot more on how the Inquisition is organized, naturally still going through the events of the video game but touching on things like how it's funded, the radicalization of its membership, the fact its leader is a crazy runaway slave who wants to emancipate the world and create a free elven state. Despite the preamble, it would start at the same time Inquisition does, just after the explosion. Part of the appeal to this story atop of everything else is the fact that the Herald of Andraste is a slave, an elf, a mage, and a revolutionary. Every single thing that the Chantry would despise- bonus points if we make them an Abomination as well, being the host of a benign demon.
The Way.
No colorful narration for this one. I have two proposals that run opposite to one another whilst still touching on similar ideas. One explores the idea of a more LA Noire take on The Mandalorian TV series, following a Sylvan who, after years of chafing as a slave, is liberated by a Mandalorian covert who adopt her. Thriving on Nar-Shadaa as a group of assassins and spooks for hire, this cell has survived through espionage, cleaning up their tracks and framing gangs and other organizations for their killings, often slaughtering all witnesses that they encounter. This would, of course, include the slave they upon after killing her owner. Putting up a ferocious struggle, she's finally cornered and about to meet her death before she manages to wrestle and bite the finger off of one of her attackers, nearly killing him before being incapacitated.
Impressed, and even allowing her to keep the finger, the man adopts her, introducing her to their new family as a Foundling, telling her that if she agrees to join them, he'll be sure to train her so that nobody will ever be able to force her to do anything ever again.
The plot opens with his death while out on 'patrol.'
Disturbed and vengeful, Sylvan is charged with finding his murderer, having the honor of being given an extended stay outside their covert, discovering friends, allies, and riches along the way.
I have a semi-sarcastic idea in my head that Ahsoka Tano becomes the extremely reluctant 'femme fatale' of this story, tagging along with a Mandalorian on yet another adventure and growing fond of one another along the way. I just think it's funny.
That's the gist of it. A Noire, City of Sin esq story about a Mandalorian on the Hutte Cartel city of Nar-Shadda trying to find who killed her father.
The opposite story follows a (hopefully) more creative and explorative version of Star Wars the Old Republic's class storyline of the Sith Warrior. A similar concept, but ending with Sylvan's cell of Mandalorians being exterminated by Sith who, upon discovering the force sensitive child amongst them, sends her to Korriban to be trained as an acolyte. Humiliated and used sexually by her temporary 'master,' when given the chance to train under Darth Baras, she wishes to see nothing but her tormentor's flayed body and the destruction of whatever that allowed the annihilation of everything she held dear.
Sylvan is not necessarily a 'good' person in this story. This isn't a 'Good guy Sith who uses the Dark Side benevolently' tale. Sylvan's very much a damaged, wounded animal in this story who just so happens to want to inflict all her rage and suffering on sadistic creatures.
The Brutes.
I must thank Raoul Peck, for, without him and his struggle for the recognition of exploitation and slaughter, this character, nor his story, would exist.
Extermination is an ideology with a quota.
When he came home with splintered fingers and sun-kissed skin from labor in the docks, Sylvan's brother would, with creaks in his bones, without fail, pick up the hand puppets he'd made and tell his baby brother his favorite story. A story about an island that knew only peace and abundance where a wolf and a lion loved one another very much. They did. They did.
Sylvan does not remember his brother, but he does remember the island, the love, and the well he grew up in.
He had not always been a slave, nor did he know he was one when he was purchased, but when he and his brother were sold at a bargain auction, their terms were clear enough to his brother. Their master had them meet a monthly payment, else they would be shipped to one of his plantations to work instead. Too young for work, his brother found a cramped, reeking well that he would be safe and surprisingly cozy in. Straw was easy to find, and though the antechamber leaked into the sewers, that only meant adventure for this boy. Toys, medicine, food, all were provided by his doting older brother who would spend as much time with him as he could before sleeping and working as a cook, in construction, painting, acting- whatever was necessary to pay their rent. When it wasn't enough, he'd find his gang of pickpockets and burglars, many of them other slaves given the same offer. When he painted, he'd spy inside windows and see silverware and luxury that would feed his brother for years. When he heard of a heist, of the money and bribes flowing inside the city and heard the commotion on the streets about mercenaries and professional pushers and thieves, they knew they would take part.
They had not expected it to the crown of the emperor.
Intoxicated and enraged as eight-thousand soldiers overturned the city, having ambushed and slaughtered those that had originally stolen it, Sylvan's brother realized he'd damned them: they had nowhere to turn with the property. Nobody would take it from them. Throwing it into the sewers in a fury, an ignorant Sylvan awaits his return, amazed when something shiny makes its way down into his home, putting it on his head to show the other children to play with.
Confused, stunned, and annoyed, when soldiers spot the small, dark-skinned boy playing king and ordering around his fellow street urchins all the whilst wearing the emperor's crown, they're quick to demand an explanation for him, striking him and quickly regretting their poor choice of target when Sylvan bites off the tip of his attacker's finger.
A nearby and amused baron intervenes on the boy's behalf, taking him and the crown into his protection to be presented to an enraged emperor who demands the boy's head. Unimpressed and encouraged by his wife that very same baron would throw his legendary reputation away to save Sylvan, purchasing him in a scandalous display that would cost him dearly, but in exchange buy the loyalty and adoration of one wily, strange little former slave. They would not stay long in the city, the baron's ownership of the boy dissolving the moment they reach his faraway home, freeing him in the shadow of a swaying corpse that hangs from the tallest tree.
Beautiful and cold, Sylvan will come to know over the years a troubled land whose people's only reward for their struggle is depopulation, a sluggish economy, and a pension program that will bankrupt them.
In an age of global commerce, imperialism, and gunpowder, a rapidly evolving vortex of politics and technology surrounds his plaguing new home. When his former master adopts Sylvan and names the boy his heir shortly before his death, it's not enough that Sylvan must overcome those that would deny his father's wishes and oust him from power. Ambition and God call out to him.
There are at least twenty million slaves in the world. Nothing less but a two-bit scoundrel will be enough to save them and slaughter their masters.
All of them.
There are more details to this story than presented, and though all of them, including the story provided above, are open to be tossed away and disregarded per my partner's requests, I do believe they are the best presentation for the character I'm proposing the story surround. This is a story about a technologically 17th century, fictional setting. Politics, governance, economics, trade, warfare- if these things aren't your cup of tea, then this isn't the story for you. Risk of failure, death, injury, or any other natural results to Sylvan are entirely acceptable. I expect a challenging roleplay where Sylvan must be the clever man he thinks he is to survive this grand rags-to-riches tale he's put himself in.
That's it folks. If any of these - or multiple - interest you? I'd appreciate anyone who'd care to indulge me. Thanks.
docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJhNKSk232Ha7jL3V_FeS3Ajtq8s5tlQrQjc8/edit
The Wrath of Haven.
Now her hand is raised,
A sword to pierce the sun
With iron shield she defends the faithful
Let chaos be undone
- Victoria 1:3
Sylvan was Inquisitior. It was not a position she'd ever desired, and, arguably, it was not a position she was good at either. When she'd accepted it had been to stitch a hole in the sky- and now... many thought of her as a runaway, vulgar terrorist that they'd made the greatest mistake in giving power to. Tolerating what she'd turned their last hope into was a matter only of survival; only they could stop the Venatori, only she could seal the Rifts. If only the Herald of Andraste hadn't been a elven mage from across the border with a chip on her shoulder and a thirst for vengeance, then, perhaps, things might have worked out the way they wanted it to.
Before she was Inquisitor, before there was an Inquisition, all she'd been was a fugitive slave escaping whatever horrors her Tevinter masters would inflict on her. She hadn't meant to turn her mistress into bloody viscera across the highway, though she was sure they accused her of having intended it long ago. Her emotions simply got the better of her, lessons about discipline and controlling her temper forgotten in one brief flash of rage when the woman's hands grew too liberal and her restraints too lose. Before long her bodyguards laid dead, her mages scattered or disarmed, and the woman herself, months later, still being collected and scraped off the floor.
It took some time to convince a Dalish tribe to take her in, the wild and untrusting beings they were, which was made all the more surprising when they agreed that they ought to take a more active interest in the mage rebellion consuming the world. It was, after all, the lowest of times for the human kingdoms- their armies still had yet to recover from the Darkspawn, from the hordes of refugees from Kirkwall, and the rebellion, and...
One crisis after another. Every bit of pain Ferelden suffered was an opportunity for those that had lived beneath them for so long- why would they not work together? The Dalish had survived for centuries by themselves- who knew what they could do with an ally? One who had already proven that they could resist the Chantry? They even had a charismatic mage to meet with them, one who had experience killing templars and being crushed by the boot of autocracy.
She would meet with the mages, and, together, they would force change.
That was the idea anyways. It seemed like a good one too, until the mountain exploded.
The worst parts of Inquisition to me are how whitewashed and apolitical the Inquisition is. This RP would touch a lot more on how the Inquisition is organized, naturally still going through the events of the video game but touching on things like how it's funded, the radicalization of its membership, the fact its leader is a crazy runaway slave who wants to emancipate the world and create a free elven state. Despite the preamble, it would start at the same time Inquisition does, just after the explosion. Part of the appeal to this story atop of everything else is the fact that the Herald of Andraste is a slave, an elf, a mage, and a revolutionary. Every single thing that the Chantry would despise- bonus points if we make them an Abomination as well, being the host of a benign demon.
The Way.
No colorful narration for this one. I have two proposals that run opposite to one another whilst still touching on similar ideas. One explores the idea of a more LA Noire take on The Mandalorian TV series, following a Sylvan who, after years of chafing as a slave, is liberated by a Mandalorian covert who adopt her. Thriving on Nar-Shadaa as a group of assassins and spooks for hire, this cell has survived through espionage, cleaning up their tracks and framing gangs and other organizations for their killings, often slaughtering all witnesses that they encounter. This would, of course, include the slave they upon after killing her owner. Putting up a ferocious struggle, she's finally cornered and about to meet her death before she manages to wrestle and bite the finger off of one of her attackers, nearly killing him before being incapacitated.
Impressed, and even allowing her to keep the finger, the man adopts her, introducing her to their new family as a Foundling, telling her that if she agrees to join them, he'll be sure to train her so that nobody will ever be able to force her to do anything ever again.
The plot opens with his death while out on 'patrol.'
Disturbed and vengeful, Sylvan is charged with finding his murderer, having the honor of being given an extended stay outside their covert, discovering friends, allies, and riches along the way.
I have a semi-sarcastic idea in my head that Ahsoka Tano becomes the extremely reluctant 'femme fatale' of this story, tagging along with a Mandalorian on yet another adventure and growing fond of one another along the way. I just think it's funny.
That's the gist of it. A Noire, City of Sin esq story about a Mandalorian on the Hutte Cartel city of Nar-Shadda trying to find who killed her father.
The opposite story follows a (hopefully) more creative and explorative version of Star Wars the Old Republic's class storyline of the Sith Warrior. A similar concept, but ending with Sylvan's cell of Mandalorians being exterminated by Sith who, upon discovering the force sensitive child amongst them, sends her to Korriban to be trained as an acolyte. Humiliated and used sexually by her temporary 'master,' when given the chance to train under Darth Baras, she wishes to see nothing but her tormentor's flayed body and the destruction of whatever that allowed the annihilation of everything she held dear.
Sylvan is not necessarily a 'good' person in this story. This isn't a 'Good guy Sith who uses the Dark Side benevolently' tale. Sylvan's very much a damaged, wounded animal in this story who just so happens to want to inflict all her rage and suffering on sadistic creatures.
The Brutes.
I must thank Raoul Peck, for, without him and his struggle for the recognition of exploitation and slaughter, this character, nor his story, would exist.
Extermination is an ideology with a quota.
When he came home with splintered fingers and sun-kissed skin from labor in the docks, Sylvan's brother would, with creaks in his bones, without fail, pick up the hand puppets he'd made and tell his baby brother his favorite story. A story about an island that knew only peace and abundance where a wolf and a lion loved one another very much. They did. They did.
Sylvan does not remember his brother, but he does remember the island, the love, and the well he grew up in.
He had not always been a slave, nor did he know he was one when he was purchased, but when he and his brother were sold at a bargain auction, their terms were clear enough to his brother. Their master had them meet a monthly payment, else they would be shipped to one of his plantations to work instead. Too young for work, his brother found a cramped, reeking well that he would be safe and surprisingly cozy in. Straw was easy to find, and though the antechamber leaked into the sewers, that only meant adventure for this boy. Toys, medicine, food, all were provided by his doting older brother who would spend as much time with him as he could before sleeping and working as a cook, in construction, painting, acting- whatever was necessary to pay their rent. When it wasn't enough, he'd find his gang of pickpockets and burglars, many of them other slaves given the same offer. When he painted, he'd spy inside windows and see silverware and luxury that would feed his brother for years. When he heard of a heist, of the money and bribes flowing inside the city and heard the commotion on the streets about mercenaries and professional pushers and thieves, they knew they would take part.
They had not expected it to the crown of the emperor.
Intoxicated and enraged as eight-thousand soldiers overturned the city, having ambushed and slaughtered those that had originally stolen it, Sylvan's brother realized he'd damned them: they had nowhere to turn with the property. Nobody would take it from them. Throwing it into the sewers in a fury, an ignorant Sylvan awaits his return, amazed when something shiny makes its way down into his home, putting it on his head to show the other children to play with.
Confused, stunned, and annoyed, when soldiers spot the small, dark-skinned boy playing king and ordering around his fellow street urchins all the whilst wearing the emperor's crown, they're quick to demand an explanation for him, striking him and quickly regretting their poor choice of target when Sylvan bites off the tip of his attacker's finger.
A nearby and amused baron intervenes on the boy's behalf, taking him and the crown into his protection to be presented to an enraged emperor who demands the boy's head. Unimpressed and encouraged by his wife that very same baron would throw his legendary reputation away to save Sylvan, purchasing him in a scandalous display that would cost him dearly, but in exchange buy the loyalty and adoration of one wily, strange little former slave. They would not stay long in the city, the baron's ownership of the boy dissolving the moment they reach his faraway home, freeing him in the shadow of a swaying corpse that hangs from the tallest tree.
Beautiful and cold, Sylvan will come to know over the years a troubled land whose people's only reward for their struggle is depopulation, a sluggish economy, and a pension program that will bankrupt them.
In an age of global commerce, imperialism, and gunpowder, a rapidly evolving vortex of politics and technology surrounds his plaguing new home. When his former master adopts Sylvan and names the boy his heir shortly before his death, it's not enough that Sylvan must overcome those that would deny his father's wishes and oust him from power. Ambition and God call out to him.
There are at least twenty million slaves in the world. Nothing less but a two-bit scoundrel will be enough to save them and slaughter their masters.
All of them.
There are more details to this story than presented, and though all of them, including the story provided above, are open to be tossed away and disregarded per my partner's requests, I do believe they are the best presentation for the character I'm proposing the story surround. This is a story about a technologically 17th century, fictional setting. Politics, governance, economics, trade, warfare- if these things aren't your cup of tea, then this isn't the story for you. Risk of failure, death, injury, or any other natural results to Sylvan are entirely acceptable. I expect a challenging roleplay where Sylvan must be the clever man he thinks he is to survive this grand rags-to-riches tale he's put himself in.
That's it folks. If any of these - or multiple - interest you? I'd appreciate anyone who'd care to indulge me. Thanks.
