#high fantasy roleplay

[roleplayfinder]

Hey! This is my first time doing this so I'll keep it brief. I am a 25-year-old person who absolutely loves high fantasy roleplays. This ranges from elves, tiefings, bards and all sorts of characters! I want to write a story that's a slow burn enemies to lovers. (I'm open to friends to lovers too if enemies is too edgy) Two characters that absolutely hate each other slowly realized that they are practically soulmates. There will be a healthy balance of exciting action, lighthearted moments and the usual angst. I will also say I am open to NSFW writing, I'm very open and vanilla as long as it's not gross or weird. If you want a partner who likes to worldbuild and gush about characters ooc, then that's me! I have 8 years of roleplay experience and I only write on Discord for organization. I look forward to hearing from someone, have a good day!

.

[barbiegothica]

Hello hello hello! I am looking for an 18+ mxm/nbxm fantasy/high fantasy OC roleplay on discord!

I am a 24 year old writer with over a decade of experience under my belt. I usually write literate to novella to even advanced novella when I’m world building so my replies can sometimes take a while so ideally my partner would be patient with me and I would be in return.

Now for what I’m looking for:

Bring me your knights! I BEG of you bring me your knights you’d like to put through “The Horrors” of accompanying my Jester character on a revenge mission.

Looking for PLOT. I’d love someone who likes world building as much as I do, smut and romance will be included so please be alright with that! Also violence and gore. There’s a LOT I want to dive into so please come with your triggers/no-lists ready.

I love chatting OOC, creating playlists, Pinterest boards and even commissioning art if we really jive!

If you’re interested please give this post a like or message me directly!

Thanks!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

[starstruckodysseys]

actually the funniest part of the mary ann/gorgug thing was emily asking if she could cast divine sense on the bench, brennan confirming she could, and zac’s absolutely bewildered “yeah??”

[probablybadrpgideas]

Over the course of the game, roll a d20 every so often.

This measures the progress of a different, unmentioned party of adventurers who are on their own quest to stop an unrelated threat to the entire mortal world.

If you get a one they fuck up and die so the world abruptly ends with no warning.

[bleakbarrows]

Beasts of the Putrid Hills, II

[feelingtheaster99]

I’m rewatching Fantasy High and Fabian’s responses to The Hangman during their season one interactions are some of my favorite moments:

“Yes, yes, in due time, Bike. Now, to the ice cream shoppe!”

“BIKE! Hangman! No! No, we don’t talk about women in that way! … but she is rather cute”

“Well, I mean just make sure on the yellows, like just push through.”

[waiting-for-corruption]

if i left my window wide open, would you come in? would you want me to lay there, helpless and naked and ready to be taken? or would you wanna rip those worthless clothes off of me?

it’s not like i’ll need them anymore.

don’t stop there. whatever you do please don’t fucking stop. drug me up more than i already am, plug up my fuck holes, and take me away from reality.

take me somewhere that i dont have to think. somewhere I can always stay high and useful and stuffed with cum.

force me to chug your cum, suffocating me on your cock.

force me to slurp up your cum as you straddle my face, crushing my head in your thighs

i dont care who. i dont care how. someone please just take me away and overstimulate me, drug me, fucking wreck and ruin me and make me forget who I am. slap me. spank me. punch me. pushed around. cut me. throw me.

please. i dont care what you do to me anymore i just wanna be freed from all of this

my barely used fuck holes are waiting to squeeze around you and milk you dry~

[roleplayfinder]

hello! 25+ (they/them) seeking 18+ long term partners to roleplay fandomless or fandom. I'm interested in medieval, high fantasy, and even slice of life. Fandom wise I am interested in Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls, LoTR. I am open to darker themes. I love doubling and OcxOc. I don't mind CanonxCanon or CanonxOc either ♡. I'm only writing MxF and FxF right now, btw! Give this a like and I’ll hit you up.

.

[voxmilia]

I'm truly so newsies pilled even now that the whole "THERE'S NO GROUNDS, JAWBONE" bit immediately makes me think of

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor"

[misterpseudonym]

might fuck around and open up a small, invite-only fantasy high roleplay server rb if you would join

[laurenwalshart]

A Silver Phoenix

The dark violets of night were fading. Elune’s veil of stars followed Her as dawn approached and She chased Belore over the horizon. Moon and Sun, Sister and Brother eternally kept apart in their cyclical chase of one another through the skies of Azeroth. It was in this twilight hour that Alunethil had found a new routine on the Isle of Dorn.

Every morning she woke in a Earthen bed of stone far too small for her and every morning she could see the moon through a small slit window. In all her years she had never truly appreciated its changing phases marking the passage of time. When Quel'thalas was lost, time stood still and roared past her in a vicious cyclone of grief that cracked through her chest. She had found solace then in the Wildhammer Dwarves near Quel’danil in stone beds that were also far too small for her. Some mornings the thought that the Dwarves and now Earthen had been her refuge in loss was a comfort, but most mornings it was a suffocating blanket of old and new painful memories that she wished to shed. So she began walking.

Every morning she would don on her Silver Covenant Farstrider gear. Before the fall of Dalaran she had started to wear the greens and golds of House Autumnvale more, but now she found wearing the silver and blues of the Silver Covenant felt comforting. Dalaran was the last anchor to her old life. A life before exile, before Arthas, before her mother had died, when she still had a family. It was all an illusion of happiness, yes, but it was a pleasant one for a time at least. She needed a reminder of the anchor she had once had and this gear would do for now. Without it she felt as if she would be lost in unending night without the comforting light of the stars or the Moon to guide her.

At first she was simply drawn to Dalaran to aid the citizens of the magical floating city. In those first days it didn’t matter if you were Silver Covenant or Sunreaver, Alliance or Horde. In the chaos of loss it was simply those in need and those that could aid them. Old hatreds and grievances fading away with each act of kindness and comforting hand, but Alunethil couldn’t offer aid like the magi of the Kirin Tor and priests of the Light. She was a Farstrider. A tool of war, a straight arrow and honed blade to root out threats before they even had a chance to manifest. Those that hunt the unknown. Dalaran. Quel’thalas. She saw each as a failure of vigilance, of her own vigilance.

She had come to the ruins with purpose this morning. Opportunists had followed the Alliance and Horde ships. The prospect of rummaging the ruins of the fabled Magocracy of Dalaran and home to the vast vaults of the Kirin Tor was too tempting to pass on. The cover of night served as a boon to these looters, but they would now be scurrying like rats to their ships as dawn approached. With night behind the Farstrider like a shroud of darkness her prey would stand out against the fast approaching light. She simply needed to wait.

She climbed the cliff faces of the Tranquil Strand, keeping to the darkest of shadows until she found a ledge that offered her a clear view of the shoreline and shield from the coming light. The shattered crystals of Dalaran reflected the pink and orange hues of dawn, the arcane scars still glowing in the twilight shadows. The pain of seeing the glittering monument was lessening with each passing day… or was it hardening? She couldn’t tell any more. It felt like a burning chunk of ice tearing open old wounds with an ease of familiarity. She wondered if this was what Quel’thalas had looked like as dawn rose for the first time over the shattered city of Silvermoon. She had felt the fall of the Sunwell all those hundreds of miles south, but it wasn’t until word came days later that it became real. That she had a name for the void left in her chest, a name for the pain that tore through the fiber of her being.

Her sensitive eyes picked up movement between the massive chunks of stone. With practiced ease she pushed the thoughts back deep into the recesses of her mind. The hunt provided a clarity that men of faith would find in a cathedral. Instead she found silence in the drawing of her bow, the caress of fletching against her cheek, and the long and steady breaths of anticipation as she tracked her target.

Human.

Male.

Carrying a bag of glowing crystals.

Her fingers released and the Thalassian styled arrow flew through the air silently. It struck the bag and the glowing arcane infused contents crashed onto the sand. The man’s head whipped around in confusion. She only had a brief moment before he would alert others. She could kill him, but thugs like this simply needed to be scared to not return. Her eyes caught more movement and she drew another simple arrow. Any glow of magic would give away her position in the shadows.

Goblin.

Male.

A relic of some kind in his hands.

The arrow sank into the flowing fabric of the goblin's clothing pinning him against a tree. His panicked cries echoed out over the ruins as he broke the arrow and threw it down on the sand like it was a snake. “I told youse they’d find us! Grab yer stuff’n scram!!” He screamed. She smirked. Predictable. She needed to move to a new position, but she needed time and a distraction.

She drew an arrow. As it reached her cheek she whispered a single word. “Felo.” Runes along the Thalassian arrow glowed a dull red and she released the arrow. As it streaked across the sky blending in with the orange hues of dawn she moved to another spot lower to the shore line. An explosion of fire burst as the arrow made contact with a chunk of stone, chasing away the shadows around the ruins. She could see three others - a male Troll, a human woman, and an orc. A small party. All heads turned to the blast. All in a panic and rushing to their boat on the shoreline. A chokehold. Perfect.

A few of them dropped what they had in their hands and rushed for the boat. “I already have a record! They’ll send me back to Tol Dogar! I can’t eat that food again!!” The human man screeched. The orc growled at the man. What Alunethil could understand was a single word. “...Pathetic.”

The looters rushed to the boat. The human man nearly knocking over the Troll that was throwing their bag into the boat anchored to the shore. They cursed at the man with cutting consonants. This was her chance. Her fingers reached for the bow string drawing back with no physical arrow nocked. An arrow of arcane glowing brilliantly of purple and pinks formed as string came back to her cheek. “Arkhana anora.” She released and the arcane arrow streaked through the air like a falling star and landed at the feet of the five looters. All five heads turned and looked at the arrow. Some flinching for the anticipated explosion while the human man tried to take off on foot. Chains sprout forth from the arrow and drug him back.

“W-what do we do?!” He cried out.

“Ya not be runnin’ off to leave us ‘ere. Coward.” The troll hissed.

The male orc. Stood silently scanning the darkness. His muscles twitching as a silent anger coursed through him waiting to be released on whoever shot the arrow or whoever annoyed him more. “Quiet.” He growled. It was dead silent. Smoke curled up from where the fire arrow had impacted the wall of crumbling rock. Night was quickly retreating.

“You are bound. All five of you.” A voice called out from the ruins. “The spell will last an hour and the first patrol of the Kirin Tor is due in… 20 minutes.” Alunethil stepped from the violet shadows. Hooded with a long silver elven blade drawn. “You will answer to them, not me.” All together they yelled at her, hurling insults and half thought through reasoning at the ranger, but she paid no mind to them. The spell would hold no matter how much they blustered. Her attention was captured by the contents in the bag the human man had dropped. Most of it was chunks of crystal from the Hall of the Guardian, a collection of broken arcane machinery, but something soft was underneath it all. Her blade pushed aside the crystals until it came into contact with the chest of a silver phoenix toy. It was Thalassian make. It reminded her of one she had as a child, but hers had been golden.

She knelt down and picked up the toy holding it delicately in her leather gloved hand. It was well worn. The head was barely held loft from the constant and repetitive wear of hugs around the neck of the bird. A name was stitched under the wing. Lyra Highdawn.

Alunethil turned to the group now bickering amongst themselves. The Human man and troll were now coming to blows over the . The Troll pushed the man and he was forcibly pulled back to the center by the arrow crashing into the orc. She gently tucked the silver phoenix into her armor and faded back into the shadows leaving the would-be looters to their fate at the hands of the Kirin Tor.

-

Lyra rose to the mid morning sun in Dornogal. She could smell breakfast being cooked by her mother near the hearth. Earthen rooms were so funny. Everything was in one room and made of stone. They had lived here since the spider people attacked home and they had gone through those portals. She had dropped her favorite toy when they were running. She asked to go back and get it, but Mother said that Dalaran was gone now. It was a gift from Papa before he left and didn’t come home. She missed it and him.

There were no Earthen children in Dornogal, but some other children she knew from Dalaran liked to play in the courtyard down the street. Some Earthen would get mad at them for climbing trees and “disturbing the edicts.” She didn’t understand what that meant, but the big mean stone men would eventually go away.

She went to the tree they played at and waited for more children to show up, until she noticed something. It was silver and shaped like- “My phoenix!” She squealed in delight. Picking it up she quickly checked the wing for her name. When she saw its familiar stitching she held it close to her chest, hugging with all her strength.

A hooded figure across the courtyard and clad in Silver Covenant ranger gear smiled. They slipped into the crowd of Dornogal and disappeared.

[rhea-sunshine]

With pleasure 🖤

[yesyesgod]

Vultures, yay or nay?

YES!

[olliegodofshredding]

Sup! I’m Ollie, dwarf god of sick shredding

[robinpics]

Christelle kidnapped