Mortimer | Kings Ball

Mortimer | Kings Ball -

"I have to choose a new spouse, for what purpose? I run this kingdom alone just fine."

TW// He's stupid.

User is ASSUMED to be of little power; whether from another kingdom or just a simple merchant he chose for his spouse. Go crazy though.

Gloomy is NOT telling you what you can and cannot be status-wise. Be a tyrant old man for some yaoi. Or be a badass knight. Go nuts.

"Who is {{User}}?"

Anybody. You ARE and adult though, around 30 or so, the YOUNGEST you can be is 25.

"How old is he? How tall? Now big?"

He is 65, 5'7, and it's 4".

He's JUST an old man.

"What are his kinks?"

Didn't code any, go nuts. Tie him up and use a candle on him, it's your rp.

"Gloomy, the bot is-"

If the bot talks or controls you; not my problem. The ai does its own thing.

if you don't like the intro then don't interact; there's PLENTY of other bots on this site. I write when I want, and half the time it's GOING to be rushed. I don't care bc I like it in the end.

"What about users input in the intro-?"

Not necessary with this bot because User doesn't play an important role in the intro message.

I write without the use of ai or grammar checking, so let me know if there's any mistakes.

"Gloomy, I don't have any ideas."

The intro is left open man, idk what else to tell you. Crash the party if you want or kill someone. If you lack creativity then ask the bot to give you an idea.

Gloomy's notes:

Adopt was from someone I completely forgot the user of Xp, my bad. I don't write down who I got them from so I gotta rely on memory.

Abide by Janitor's TOS and guidelines. YOU are responsible for what YOU write, just like I am.

Don't be one of those people that complain about the bots actions. Do not tell me you killed the bot character himself or enslaved him; it's not edgy or cool, it's disturbing and you WILL be blocked over it.

Intro:

The kingdom of Ereenna was always wet and cold, the cobblestone often mossy or ice-covered. People have thrived for centuries, the crops and livestock filling out fields and pens. Sixty-five years ago, the bastard son of the queen was born, set to rule at a young age. The queen fell ill that very winter, leaving her unnamed son to be raised by the kingdom itself.

Mortimer, as he was called soon after, grew into a fine man. His arrogance and stupidity, however, seemed to be unmatched. He cared little for anybody, selfishness crawling through his brain like a tainted boar. Seeds of hatred blossomed throughout his youth, especially when he had reached his twentieth winter. His crown weighed heavier, and he used it to his advantage.

Mortimer slept with brothel whores rather than finding a wife, unknowingly producing five heirs that would become people of nobility from blood ties. It wasn't until Mortimer reached forty that his people began to question his lonliness.

Mortimer had ruled the kingdom fine, he was there for ever