A Timelord Needed...

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A Timelord's Magick... (closed)

I have a 'Doctor Who' inspired story idea. I want very much to write of a Timelod, much like The Doctor (I guess it could possibly even be him) who is travelling through time and space in a T.A.R.D.I.S. (I'd love to see one shaped as a refrigerator box, voting booth, photo booth, or something like that.) and I'd write a lovely young, red-haired healer and midwife from a proud tradition of a long line of matriarchy and pagan healing out of the burning times, who's had her forest home and peaceful existence invaded and burned down by the Sheriff and the local army due to her family being considered lawless, Godless, gypsies. Her grandmother and her are about to be burnt at the stake for witchcraft when the Timelord arrives to whisk them away and they join him on adventures.

P.M. me if you're interested.

 

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I'm itching to begin. I wonder if anyone could be my hero or heroine. I'm happy to write bi if there are no interested writers to create a male lead. I'll work just as well, if not better at times, with a female character.

PM me to tell me what your Timelord is going to be like and we'll start planning our story thread together. :-*

 

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No 'Doctor Who' fans?
What a pity!

 

[Deleted member 1306910]

No 'Doctor Who' fans?
What a pity!

There are many, it's just that this isn't the sexual RP forum. We concentrate more on telling stories here and though some might be R rated, not many have anything XXX rated in them. It all depends on what you are looking for.

 

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There are many, it's just that this isn't the sexual RP forum. We concentrate more on telling stories here and though some might be R rated, not many have anything XXX rated in them. It all depends on what you are looking for.

I know exactly which forum I'm in, son. Why would you assume srp is the goal? I'm a storyteller, first and foremost. My description of my idea doesn't ask for an srp. It asks for a cowriter. However, in most storylines there is a romantic element and in the event it were to be my writing is equally flexible towards romance in each gender. If you would read carefully you'd see sex isn't mentioned as a necessary component, not even in LitEROTICA. I'm primarily looking for a writing partner. The condescension isn't necessary. Fifteenthousand + posts means I'm experienced enough around here that I actually know where to go when I want to get erotic or when I seek to weave a tale. But, thanks for the attempt to mansplain the purpose of the forum to l'il ol' me.

 

[Deleted member 1306910]

I know exactly which forum I'm in, son. Why would you assume srp is the goal? I'm a storyteller, first and foremost. My description of my idea doesn't ask for an srp. It asks for a cowriter. However, in most storylines there is a romantic element and in the event it were to be my writing is equally flexible towards romance in each gender. If you would read carefully you'd see sex isn't mentioned as a necessary component, not even in LitEROTICA. I'm primarily looking for a writing partner. The condescension isn't necessary. Fifteenthousand + posts means I'm experienced enough around here that I actually know where to go when I want to get erotic or when I seek to weave a tale. But, thanks for the attempt to mansplain the purpose of the forum to l'il ol' me.

Wow, did you ever bite the wrong bone. But now I do understand why no one had replied to you. Some things you gotta learn for yourself, the hard way.

 

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I get annoyed when people waste my time especially to declare the obvious. But, when I have a writing partner I respect and like we get along quite well. Don't talk down to people you don't know and you'll find you get treated better by them.

 

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IC:

In the burning times the Light family worked tirelessly to aide all those in need of healing and birth assistance (whatever their status or beliefs) despite the interference of both the armies of the Kingdom of Knott and of Kingdom Ryelen in the peacful pagan operations of the various cooperative clans of the Valley Woods between them. Already, the witches of the families Stone, Brookside, and Fern were no longer. Their simple homes had been burnt to dust; the women taken under arrest and separated from their children, left orphaned (pretty ones taken as slaves for the well to do, the homely ones left to fend for themselves, often found dead in the city streets within weeks of their mother's burnings.), a sad state for the peaceful witches who'd found solace and made a living from those woods for hundreds of years up until then. Christianity reigned and all pagans were either converted via intimidation or arrested, tortured, and burnt to death to be made examples of.

Soon, all families had been touched by the local theocracies in some form, missing a family member or two; turning from woodland farmers, hedgewitches and naturalistic healers to scroungers on the constant move. Staying in one place for too long had become as dangerous as walking into the cities alone and undisguised, in recent years. February Fire Light (a.k.a. Firelight) and her grandmother, Greenly Light had taken to constantly wearing men's clothing and hiding their long hair (Firelight's red locks were quite noticeable otherwise, Gran's less so, now that it was beginning to turn brassy silver) beneath big men's hats. They'd lost February's mother, Ember, to a witch trial and burning fifteen years ago. Her fiery haired five year old had escaped the grasp of a Knott soldier about to hand her over to Lady Asworth for training as a housemaid by biting his hand so hard he had to have the dead index finger severed later on. The little one ran for three days and hid in the treetops for three nights before she found her distraught grandmother. Greenly had been raising little Firelight from that day forth and had taught her all the ancient ways of the Light Family Healers.

It was their third week at their current shelter site and Greenly was quite settled, growing tired of the constant moving about, but Firelight felt the familiar itch to move on soon. She had a way of knowing bad energy was in the air before an event occurred. Unfortunately, it didn't always allow for much time to react to her gut feeling. This morning something was different in the usual forest sounds. The birdsong was more reserved in the treetops. She called out to Greenly, "Gran, who is due this way today? Or, must we venture out into the hills? Have we any known appointments?"

The old woman poked her head out from the tent and yawned, stretching her wrinkled yet surprisingly spry body. "The Widow Calloway is overdue. Her baby should have come last week. She's been in pain. Her sister sent word they'd send word if the baby had come. If not, we were to sneak over to her farm while the rest of the house was off to church and help her birth the baby."

February swore under her breath. "It's not safe to camp here another night, Gran. I feel it. We should pack up our things and be prepared to make camp in a new spot after helping Widow Calloway, alright?"

The older woman squinted, it was barely dawn. The moon still shone brightly through the leaves and the sun hadn't even begun its ascent in the sky. Still, she knew it was time. Her granddaughter was always right about these things. Those keen instincts had kept them both alive against impossible odds for this long, no use questioning them now. "Alright, my little merrybegot. I'll start packing."

Packing up camp was uneventful and timely. By dawn, both women in manly disguise thought they could smell the scent of cooking food on campfires and the unmistakable laughter of men, likely soldiers, not far away. They varied their walking route to avoid those possible camps and it took them an extra hour to reach their destination. By the time they'd reached the farm and were let in by the maid (secretly, a fellow pagan), Mrs. Calloway was in desperate throes of heavy labour. Managing to save a baby born dead, purple in color and unable to breathe, was almost commonplace for the pair who worked efficiently and very profesionally together. Their ways were actually more successful than the two kingdom's most renowned doctors and apothecaries. Yet, their only advertising was through dangerous underground passing of word of mouth.

The widow had a new son to take over for his dad one day. She was grateful, realizing that, had the two witches not come, her beautiful little boy would've been a stillborn fatality. She thanked them with some copper coins, a few of her old gowns made from fine material, and a chicken, a fat hen. It was a very profitable exchange. But, as Firelight beheld the height of the sun in the sky and heard church bells ringing she knew she and her grandmother needed to be away and out of sight, fast!

The woods were their best hiding place and travel route, always their home, they knew every little nook and cranny. The sound of Christians just out of church with fresh judgements were all around them and it became necessary to stop and climb a long limbed tree with much foliage to escape from all of the travelling flock who may spot their disguises for what they were and cause them trouble...

 

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OOC: Closed for Silvertongue 217