forum The Electoral Games // A reboot but like, one on one // closed
Started by @croccin-champagne

people_alt 53 followers


Drifter: Doesn’t belong to one faction, whether due to being banned/disowned, or because they left themselves, usually because they had a problem with the laws, or how things were run. Occasionally, Drifters are orphans who are unaware of their original faction.

Paladin: Members of this faction are warriors, usually for whatever their section views as ‘good’ and ‘right’. Often muscled and well versed in multiple weapons, they participate in a ceremony on their 18th birthday, after their training is complete, to ‘settle’ on a weapon. Strong, fast, the ideal fighters.

Mageia: The magic users. Split into minor Families around the elements, such as Water, Fire, Earth, and Air, for the most common ones. These are also the largest Families. Appearance is dictated by what element their Family is aligned with. Ex: Fire users might have tanned skin, and reddish hair, eyes resembling flames in shades of red, gold, amber, and orange. It is rare for a Mageia to become aligned with an element different from that of their Family, but it has happened. Users of multiple elements do not exist in anything beside myths and fairy tales.

Divine: These are the royals. The name stems from the legends that say the King, Queen, and family(Princes/Princesses, cousins and whatnot), are descended from the Gods. While it is unknown if this is true or not, there are some things that might point to it. They do not get sick, and tend to live longer lives than most of the People. Their inherited ability to control the forces of Life has the capability to be incredibly powerful with training and use, though too much use can literally burn them up, the way one might imagine seeing something of too much Divine power would. It doesn’t matter what faction the parent who married in was from, the children will always end up with the abilities to manipulate Life Force.

The land of Seyvai is a land of four distinct factions, functioning in place of classes. You have your Divine, the royalty and members of the royal family, bringers(and takers) of Life. Your Mageia, magic users and sorcerers, low in numbers but powerful enough to be feared all the same. The Paladins, warriors and soldiers and defenders of the kingdom, protectors of the People and the Divine. And last, definitely least, you have the Drifters, factionless and few and far between, survivors, for the ones who can't, are dead.

The Electoral Games are held once every thirty years, a tournament that brings the factions together to witness the competitions. A series of trials, and gladiator style fights, the winner of the Games is given a seat on the King and Queen's board of Advisers, something some people are very literally willing to kill for.

A Drifter with a past unknown to even her is tossed into the Games through sheer bad luck, and a single mistake. And as something more sinister shows itself to be afoot among the contestants, she reluctantly teams with [insert character here. In the og, it was two other contestants and the Prince, so it all really depends on what you want for your character, and whether romance is wanted or not. Honestly, an Adviser or official appointed to judge the Games works just fine too.] to get to the bottom of things, before the lives of too many people are put at stake.

  1. No OP characters, or I will yeet your ass outta here before you can say 'this bitch empty'. I can't stand invincible characters, man.

  2. Proper grammar, punctuation, and capitalization, please. I can get making a few mistakes, when you're tired, or English ain't your first language(It's mine, and even I have my issues), but if it's too common a thing, it irks the hell outta me. Call me a bitch, but hey.

  3. Slurs, homophobia, transphobia, rascism, sexism, anything that ends in -ism and that harms or promotes the harm of other people will not be tolerated. See my first threat.

  4. Detailed-ish responses, please. Think three or more sentences. To keep it going.

  5. I have the full right to add and edit this list. I also have the right to boot you if you're causing too many problems.

Age(late teens, young adult):
Usual Clothing:
Weapon/s, if applicable:
Specifics into why they entered the Games:
Magic, if they have it:

Name: Eleanora Alzor(her birth name), Allisandra “Ghost” Flor
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Pansexual, but relationships are incredibly far from her mind.
Role: Drifter
Appearance: Hair choppily cut to just around her shoulders, either kept up in a short ponytail, or down. Her hair is black, with sprinklings of white throughout that resemble early greying, but not quite. A chunk in the front is completely white, standing out against the rest of her hair and color scheme. She’s on the darker side of the olive skin-tone spectrum, and covered in various scars, most notably the odd ones on her neck, varying from small and thin to large and jagged. 5’7, and decently muscled, though obviously a bit malnourished. Her eyes are a startling silver/grey, that always seem to be scanning her surroundings, and almost appear to see straight through people.
Usual Clothing: A lot of black, and dark colors, because they blend into the shadows she mainly travels in. Black trousers tucked into black knee high boots. Alternates between a long sleeved black shirt and a tank top, has various knives visibly strapped to herself, and hidden. Wears a black trenchcoat with silver embellishments on the hems, stolen from a Mageia she killed, early on. It’s now become a sort of trademark.
Backstory: She has no clue who her parents are, or anything much about where she’s from. She was raised by a gang of thieves until she was fourteen, when she was kidnapped. It took her three years to escape, but she finally managed to, killing her captor and freeing her fellow victims. She still keeps in touch with them, making sure they’re safe and alright. She became a household name after, as a thief and occasional assassin, known only as Ghost, for ability to get in and out of places unseen.
As stated above, she doesn’t know where she’s from. She finds out later(in the rp), that she is a direct descendant of the Queen, who had an affair and sent her off to be raised by a friend, hoping to keep her safe.
Weapon/s, if applicable: Knives, sharp things. Anything she can get her hands on works though, and she’s scarily creative with them. Her magic, occasionally.
Specifics into why they entered the Games: She accidentally managed to place herself in the debt of a man with cruel intentions, and he plans on using her as a champion of sorts in the Games, so that he has power in the Court if she manages to win.
Magic, if they have it: The Life Force control has shown itself in abilities that are essentially Necromancy, though due to her unwillingness to really tap into it, most of what she can do is see and strengthen the dead, as in ghosts.
Fears: Dark, small spaces. Things around her neck, from necklaces to even a too tight shirt collar. Bindings, and being owned.


Paladin or Divine, I don’t care. And do you have a specific sexuality that you want to do? I know that all of our roleplays are straight, but what do you prefer?


Name: Colton “Cole” Morian
Age(late teens, young adult): 19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual, but pretends not to be interested in tomantic relationships
Role: Divine
Appearance: Handsome, in a dark sort of way. His skin is fairly dark, not quite enough to be called black, but not light enough to be olive. His hair is thick and wavy, and his bangs cover one of his eyes. His eyes are a deep, intense blue, almost black, and seem to penetrate into your very soul. He seems to always smell like a campfire, which can freak some people out sometimes, because they think something’s burning. He doesn’t often smile, and seemed only to stare at people, watching them, but when he does smile, it’s like the sun shining on a cloudy day.
Usual Clothing: He’s supposed to wear royal, fancy clothing but he hates it, so he is usually found in dark colors, like a purple outfit trimmed in silver. He wears no jewelry, except for two rings. One, a heavy gold thing with his family crest and another made of silvery metal with a small emerald on it.
Backstory: He lives in the palace with the rest of the Divine, and is his parents’ favorite. The king is his real father, but his mother was a common Drifter, who was killed by the Queen when she discovered what had happened, which, it is thought, may have caused her to sleep with a other man. Cole survived, though, as his mother was allowed to live until the child was born, and his step-mother pretends like he’s hers, and he has no idea who his true mother is.
Weapon/s, if applicable: Anything, really. Knives, swords, you name it.
Specifics into why they entered the Games: He wanted to prove himself, prove that he was worthy of the crown.
Magic, if they have it: The Life Force, and that’s really it.
Fears: That his parents will disown him or something dramatic like that, losing his friends, not being good enough.
Other: N/A


He's great! I'll admit, I might confuse myself later on, but it's all good

Want to start? I've got a particular setting in mind, and we both know I love to type up a good starter, so I'm just wondering if we're ready


Allisandra Flor somehow managed to be be terrifying, despite her height. Maybe it was the way she dressed, maybe the scars marking her neck and any visible skin, or maybe it was the cold and indifferent look seemingly permanently etched onto her face. Whatever it was, it was working, and she was grateful for that. It kept people away, and out of her way.

The Electoral Games were something the thief never thought she'd find herself entering, and yet here she was, leaning against the wall in the 'main room' of the building that would serve as a home to the contestants during most of their time competing. She'd been told by a grumpy looking guard to wait there, as the rest of the contestants would arrive, and they'd be given the rules, and would have the first up trial explained to them.

Ally wanted desperately to walk right out the door, to disappear into the alleys of the large and bustling city and be done with everything about the place and the Games, and maybe she would have. If it had been any other situation, and she wasn't certain that Rollins would find her easily. She couldn't risk him finding the others, and if she was being honest, she didn't want to be caught herself. Something told her he wouldn't just kill her.


Cole was honestly debating the decisions he had made of late. Standing in a crowded room, waiting for his turn to fight, he felt only annoyance. Why had he thought that this was a good idea? There were other ways to show his worth, and this was not one of them. Plus, now that he thought about it, if he died, then his little sister would be the next ruler. He shuddered. That would awful.

His little sister, Amelia, was a spoiled, arrogant brat who insisted on getting her way. Luckily for her(but no one around her), she almost always got it. Cole was pretty sure that the first rule that his sister would pass if she were the Queen was that her birthday would be celebrated every month, and all of the people below her would have to give her a gift. Sometimes Cole debates accidentally drowning her, or getting her trampled by horses, but he hadn’t yet.

To distract himself from the horrible images of his sister on the throne, he scanned th room, cataloging possible threats. There was a guy who seemed to be weak and thin, but as the Prince watched, a flame sparked on his palm. If he had to fight him, Cole would be done for. He had never tested himself on an Mageia, and wanted to keep it that way. There was also a hulking brute of a man that he should stay clear of. The Prince was fast, and strong, but not that strong.

He sighed and rubbed his head, gripping the hilt of a sword his father had given him before he left. It was silver, with a single sapphire on it. His father had wanted more jewels, but, as the best fighters knew, jewels only made it heavier and harder to wield.


Ally's peculiar eyes scanned the room with a piercing gaze, cataloging the visible strengths and weaknesses of every person in the room. She was the only Drifter there, but that wasn't something that worried her. It wasn't that she had confidence in her abilities. No, she couldn't afford confidence. What she was was comfortable though, in the knowledge that half these contestants had never faced an actual fight, let alone one with so much at stake.

And part of her comfort lay in her discomfort. She was always on edge, always watching, something she'd had to do since she was young. That's what it took to survive, after all. Weak knee, vision problems, can't control his magic, more flashy than practical… She continued listing notes in her head as her eyes stopped on each contestant in the room as the man in charge of instructions and rules came out, only half listening to his lecture. Enough to not get kicked, but not enough to focus solely on that. Her eyes had found something more interesting anyway.

The Prince.


Cole sighed, pulling his sword slightly from its sheath, and then back again. He tried to slump, to act as though he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, which wasn’t too hard. Most of the people in the room were looking nervously around, and from the way they held themselves, the Prince realized that most of her had never fought before, or at least with opponents that were more than peasants. He copied their posture easily, glad for once that he had trainee before coming, to make himself dirty and sweaty. All the better.

Then, he felt eyes on him. Turning in the direction he felt the gaze, he saw a Drifter-What was one doing here-and a female at that. She had penetrating sliver gray eyes, and he didn’t want to look away. She seemed to recognize him, and he cursed silently. Apparently he hadn’t been fast enough. Looking away, he pretended to be watching everyone else, but his mind was racing, and he could barely pay attention to what he was doing.

A Drifter, here? Why? And a girl, too. She can’t fight, can she? She seems cautious, and like she knows what she’s doing. He glanced back at her and watched as she scanned the crowd, seeming to catalogue threats. Maybe she does know what she’s doing.

And for some reason, that made him wary of her, even more so than anyone else in the room.


He's pretending to be someone else. Interesting. Allisandra normally would have assumed it was some sort of publicity stunt by the Royals, but if it was, why would he act as though he didn't belong? He wouldn't, that was the thing. He would be up there at the front of the crowd, standing like he had already won. She'd seen it before, in other minor members of the Royal family, competing in anything from jousts, to arena tournaments.

Gods, why was he here though? He didn't need the position that was offered as a prize. He had his own, his name directly on that Crown. She was, admittedly, slightly bitter. Not jealous, just bitter. She'd spent her entire life fighting tooth and nail for her survival, just to live one more day and not join the dead that lingered in the streets, and he'd been born straight into luxury. Him being here did throw a wrench in her plans, she realized, and it was a big one. The crowd would favor him over a Drifter known for murder, something that would prove detrimental during the social events.

Make it through each fight. That's your first order of business. Ally reminded herself, as the supervisor wrapped up his lecture. You can worry about manipulating the crowd later. The contestants were excused, and told they had thirty minutes before they were supposed to meet at the Arena. Most of the contestants quickly dispersed to go check out their rooms, or to find something to eat, but Ally stayed where she was, watching them.


Cole was aware of the girl’s eyes on him on him as he tried to listen to the man in the front. “…And be careful that you kill them as neatly as you can, so that you don’t get blood on your clothes. You don’t get another change.”

He rolled his eyes. Killing as neatly as he could? What kind of bullshit was that? They just didn’t want to clean up after them. The people here were lazy when it came to cleaning and tending wounded, and there were ancient blood stains on the ground.

“Are you excited?” Someone asked him. He turned to see a wiry-looking boy of about 15. He looked very excitable and nervous, and was bouncing on the balls of his feet constantly.

“I guess,” Cole said shortly, not wanting to talk with a random stranger.

“Oh,” the boy said knowingly. “You don’t want anyone to know that you are. It’s okay, I understand.” He gave Cole a big, bright smile. “I’m Peter. What’s your name? What are you?”

His lips tightened, but he pretended not to hear the boy.


Ally watched the interaction from where she was leaning against the wall, her face as expressionless as ever. While the room had mostly emptied, there were enough contestants milling about that it wasn't all that odd for her to be watching anyone. Not that she actually cared all that much. What the other contestants though of her didn't matter, what mattered was winning. One last set of chains.

She pushed off of the wall, carefully avoiding coming into contact with anyone in the room as she made her way in the Prince's general direction. It was more habit than anything to nick a few coins, and a wallet, from the people she passed, but she could always use the money.

"You shouldn't talk to strangers, kid." Ally said, her voice carrying an odd accent as she paused on her way past the two talking. "Not e'ryone in the world is nice."


Peter tried again. “Well, what’s your name? Can’t you at least tell me that? Or which faction you are? Or something abo you?” The Boy was practically pleading.

Cole groaned. First he was regretting this, and now there was an annoying child speaking to him. What should he say? Should he tell the truth or not?

Finally, he spoke. “I can fight better than almost anyone,” he said carefully, “and you might know me, which is why I’m not too keen on telling you who I am.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he whispered understandingly. “It’s a secret. I get it.”

Cole smiled tightly at him. And then he heard a feminine voice, with a strange accent, speak. “You shouldn't talk to strangers, kid. Not e'ryone in the world is nice."

It was the Drifter. Cole scowled at her, but couldn’t deny the truth of her words. The kid would probably be dead by tomorrow, and talking to the Crown Prince himself would probably get him targeted.

Peter gave her a sad puppy-dog face. “B he’s nice,” he said. “He even told me that he has a secret.” he said the word reverently.

Cole rolled his eyes.


Allisandra, who'd been about to keep walking, raised an eyebrow slightly at the boy. She felt the Prince's glare on her, and visibly didn't care at all. "Anyone can pretend t' be nice." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. It was something she knew all too well, something that stirred up old memories. She shouldn't even be conversing with other contestants. He reminds you of Mack though.

"Jus' be careful, kid." Ally said, shaking her head. She was hopeless when it came to kids, apparently. And it didn't help that he really, really did remind her of Mack. "'Specially 'round that one."


“Who, him?” Peter nodded his head at the Prince. “He’s nice. I’ve only talked to him a bit, and he seems so cool! He reminds me of my big brother!” He bounced on his toes, looking excited, and then stopped, looking sad. “My brother was killed here about a year ago, and Mum’s devastated. I don’t think she’ll ever get over it.” Then he brightened. “But that’s why I volunteered! Because then if I win, I’ll be her favorite!”

Cole sighed and rubbed his eyes. He turned away, face hard. Nobody deserved a fate like that. The boy shouldn’t have to fight. He reminded him of his sister, when she had been little. And still nice.

Then, his jaw clenched. Was he seriously feeling sorry for the boy? That was the first step to being attached to someone, and he couldn’t afford that. Not here. Not now.

“Are you okay, Mister?” Peter asked him, sounding concerned.

“I’m fine,” he said in a quiet voice.


Ally cast a glance over at the Prince, her statue-like expression finally softening just a bit, to show a knowing look. And then it was gone just as quick as it had been there. "The Games've always drawn people with troubles an' demons, ain't they." She hadn't been alive long enough to see the last one, but the people she'd met had always said the same thing. Like honey to flies, that's what the Games were to troubled and haunted people. They always stood out among those seeking nothing but glory.


Cole didn’t answer.

Peter tilted his head. “Yeah, I think? I mean, look at all those guys! Do you see the scars, and the cool magic, and the weird tattoos? They must have demons! They must be the most troubled people I’ve ever seen!” He flashed them both a huge smile. “Us three are the normalist people here. We should make a team! We could call ourselves… the Three! Or, no, the Normal Trio! Yeah, I like that.”

Cole sighed. The poor boy was so naive. Poor thing.

He barely sent the Drifter a glance. He hadn’t seemed to notice her expression going soft for a moment, otherwise he would heaven punched something. He couldn’t stand pity, mostly because he knew that he had no cause for it. His life was much better than most, and he shouldn’t have any reason as to why he should be pitied.


Ally blinked, letting out a surprised sound somewhat like a huffed laugh. "Normal." She shook her head, uncrossing her arms and letting her trenchcoat fall open somewhat. The main notable thing about this movement was that it revealed the odd scars around her neck, standing out against her skin. "Wonder what tha's like."

She flickered a glance to the doorway, knowing Rollins would want to hear from her. She was still in charge though, not him. He just got to think he was. So showing up late would be a great way to show that she had every intention of making life hell for him. "Drifters don' get t' be normal, kid. And neither do people like me. Double whammy. Ya jus' keep bein' as normal as ya can, a'ight?"


“You seem normal to me.” Peter tilted his head, looking slightly like a lost puppy. “I mean, do you see the size of trust guy’s arms? Or the cool magic that that guy can do? We can’t do anything like that. Right?”

Cole didn’t answer. He knew that if the boy found out who he was, there would be more jumping up and down, which he wouldn’t be able to stand. He ran a hand through his short hair and turned slightly back towards the others before watching where Peter pointed.

It was true. There was a man who seemed way too buff to be allowed, with arms the size of Peter’s whole torso. And there was another man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, playing with a handful of dirt, showing off what he could do in extravagant gestures. He had most likely never been in a fight, and seemed to be acting as though he wanted people to be afraid of him.

It wasn’t working on Cole. He had fought people like that a lot, people who were confident in their abilities and thought they could beat him. He won. Every time.

(Quick question: what is the ability of the Divine? Like, I know it has something to do with Life, but what do you mean by that?)