So I'll admit that I'm bad at preambles and my last one got the post flagged. So sorry about that! Hopefully I can get this right this time.

Anyways, what I'm looking for is a one on one partner to roleplay in this fantasy world I've had rolling around in my head for a few months now. It's a story loosely inspired by Demon's Souls if anyone is familiar there. I have a good idea of how I want the story to develope, but I'm happy to incorporate other elements that any of my partners might be interested in as well. I’m hoping to have a focus on our protagonists, and their relationships as well as the world. Now whether that ends up as romance, friendship or something else altogether is yet to be determined. I think there is some room for all that stuff.

What I have written here is a sort of prologue, like an introduction to the world I have in mind. Keep in mind while reading that this won't be the start of our roleplay, and is just meant to set the tone and give you an idea of the sort of things I have in mind. If it catches your interest then great! Send me a pm and we can talk more in depth about what we feel like doing about it. Also keep in mind that while I intend for this to be a dark world, the story itself may not necessarily be dark, and at least some of the adventures we go on will be more light hearted.

So if you’re interested in a long term, story-driven, world building, experience, then let me know what you’ve been thinking about, and see if my short story here catches your attention.

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Castle Laurentia was a fortress. It was the head piece of the capital city Allant of the country Kerrant, also known as the Kingdom of Five Kings. The city itself was a natural harbor and its wall circled around it, which created a crescent up to where the city met the greater ocean. The Westmost jurisdiction of Allant was of the highest elevation, due to the unique landscape of the city which started near to sea level in the East and rose up around the crescent westward, creating a scaling cliff face opposite the dock yards. This is where Luarentia sat behind a second set of walls. The castle was set to overlook the harbor entrance and the city itself, while the second walls created an innermost city that was also considered part of it. There was to be the home of the knights and guards of the Kings, ensuring that the walls were always manned by veterans. It was said that Allant may one day fall, but Laurentia will stand for an eternity.

Yet, at current, Laurentia was in chaos. The long deep halls of the stone structure were full of shouts, commands, and a multitude of footsteps. In the main hall, at the castle gate, Lord General Ostald was bellowing commands to have the drawbridge lifted and the castle closed off. At the same time some men were streaming outward charging across the ironwood gate as it was being lifted, running away from the castle. “God curse them!” Shouted the General harshly as he watched the fleeing men be thrown off the drawbridge as it was lifted higher and higher. Some seemed to make it to the far end and flung themselves to the inner city across the moat, likely breaking their legs on the other side where they landed.

“Lord Ostald! My Lord General, here…Here!” Another man called, waving his arms so that the general might see him through the bustling crowd. With one nod from General Ostald, the man was escorted through the crowd by a soldier. He stood out admits the battle ready men in long the long flowing robes of the Church. “What is this madness?” Asked the Saint

“We’re sealing the castle.” Was the gruff response.

“But why!?” The Saint shouted, incredulous. He turned his head watching men still trying to throw themselves through the closing gap of the drawbridge, to die as they fell into the pit below. He realized now the oppressive presence of fear in what soldiers still remained. “Where are the Kings? What is going on?” The hairs on the back of his neck had begun to rise.

General Ostald stared at the drawbridge, his jaw clenched until he heard the booming thud that meant it was finally secured. “King Arrin is dead, it seems. One of his knights went to find him when the other Kings were going to secure the tunnels and the guard towers, but he never came back from the lift. My orders are to seal the gate and to hold the main hall. From what I don’t rightly know, to be honest, but my thoughts are that you shouldn’t be-“ Their conversation was soon cut off by the echo of a scream. The Depths of Laurentia were chasm, and sounds from deep inside might easily carry up to the main hall. That was, so long as they were loud enough and the hall was quiet enough. Looking around they realized every man in the room was frozen, straining to listen. Snarling Ostald slammed the butt of his pole axe onto the ground for attention. “Form a Phalanx!” He roared and shoved the Saint back toward the main entrance.

Stumbling slightly, the holy man watched as soldiers poured past him, defending the gate from the halls rather than the other way around. “What’s there?” He thought frantically, straining his eyes to see through the dim flickering fire light. Just ahead of him the soldiers were forming up on General Ostald’s command. They made rows one behind another. The first carried heavy iron tower shields that slammed to the stone floor with a solid thud. Behind them the next row had lighter wooden shields that could be raised above the formation and the next row had the same. Once formed, the second and third rows turned, allowing the remaining rows to come up behind the first and to press against the shield bearers giving support to the front face. Another thud of Ostald’s pole axe signaled the rise of spears which would reach through the gaps to make a wall of weapons facing the dark hall.

It was then that a shape started to appear. First it was a smudge, and then it became a hulk. Crawling out of the dark was something terrible and huge. It had a dog’s shape, but disproportioned. As it shambled onward it became more obvious how grotesque it truly was. Its body was a mass of muscles and bones that dripped blood without skin to cover them. It crawled like a dog on all fours, but its upper body was much larger than the rear, huge, and its forearms were bulging and muscled like a man’s. “God save us.” The Saint whispered, feeling his legs begin to shake. He thought he might have pissed himself, but hadn’t the wits or the care to check. “They got out.”

Full in the hall now, the beast let its jaw drop. With horror, the Saint saw that it was an unhinged jaw. The lower row of teeth was all jagged and sharp and the bone structure square rather than snouted like a real dog’s. The thing rumbled somewhere deep inside before it charged, ungainly but fast and powerful. It seemed like its mouth might drag on the floor, but he found it impossible to tell. And when it came crashing into the phalanx, it let the spears tear into it without a care. Its huge maw all but swallowed a man in the front row. The downward force on the spear tips that were lodged in its body sent some of the men holding them up into the air. Men were screaming and dying all at once.

“No. No I have to get away!” It was more a feeling than a coherent thought. The Saint felt as if he might cry, or retch if he watched anymore. Hurriedly, he looked around for an escape and found it. A narrow passage near to the drawbridge that he knew must lead into the control mechanisms and down into the barracks. With the sounds of screams and shouts behind him, he ran. Unthinking, he hurried without a torch. The tunnel should have been well lit, with torches periodically lining the walls, but a darkness was crawling in from every direction it seemed and he ran through patches of dark and light both. “The armory.” He finally pieced together. “They store the blast powder there. It’s a bunker once sealed. Nothing would get in, nothing!”

Somewhere in the dark behind him the screams were growing quiet. His own heavy breathing was the dominant sound, along with the thumps of his footsteps as he made for the armory. “There!” He shouted with relief, seeing the light of the entrance ahead. The hall had grown wider and his footsteps echoed noisily on approach.

Finally when he rounded into the entrance, into the blinding light of the torches, something struck him. It was a hard thing, impacting just below his jaw. He both heard and felt some awful crack go through his head and his feet went out from under him. On the ground and looking up, his last sight was of a shadow standing in the doorway. With a head that now throbbed, and ached, he could barely piece together some response. “P-please.” Came his own sob at last, and the world spun faster and faster. What was hopefully a hand grabbed at the Saint’s robes, and then the darkness swallowed everything.