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Kaithe Dame Member
Vylinius of Varathia
- Last Seen: 4 hrs ago
- Joined: 6 yrs ago
- Posts: 640 (0.27 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Status
Recent Statuses
4 days ago
Rain over the ocean, and herself amid the waves, sinking.
1
like
4 mos ago
Biseual Harem RP but all they do is watch Sopranos and then quote the YouTube Poops to each other during sex
5
likes
1 yr ago
'SHINE. It liked that name. S H I N E.'
1
like
2 yrs ago
Deny / Defense / Depose.
8
likes
Bio
I like writing about strange people put into uncomfortable situations that force them to think creatively to overcome them. Brain worms currently include the Yakuza franchise, The Last Sovereign JRPG, Dragon Age, WH40K, Disco Elysium, and True Detective. Writing sample down below.
docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJh…
docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJh…
Most Recent Posts
In
[F4GM] The Ocean Will Raise All Ships. (Nobledark WH40K, political thriller, antifascism.)
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Bump.
Looking to GM for someone interested in playing two or a handful of female heroes in a short-term story.
PEACE
LAND
BREAD
Ten thousand miles of scorched earth stretch out in every direction from where she watches. Priests, mages, and agriculturalists whose professions she'd forgotten the name of long ago work day and night in another decade long attempt to bring it back to life. Every few hours they'd stumble upon another pamphlet or banner before turning it over to the tired soldiers overlooking them. They'd burn it, or peddle it away on a black market somewhere where it'd end up in the hands of some two bit warlord claiming to be the Overlord's successor, claiming it as evidence for their claim.
Maybe they would even succeed.
More likely they'd just end up being hung or shot in the head like countless others before them, but not before setting alight more farmland and emptying as many towns and cities before they'd gone.
For ten years the world had been this way. Recognizing it would be impossible- truly impossible. Any trustworthy, modern map wouldn't depict a single kingdom or state that had existed ten years ago, for they were all gone. The Overlord had ground them into dust, or fallen to the rabble in the wave of riots and revolutions that had taken place after her disappearance. The Overlord's defeat had put an end to the onslaught of her demons, the tireless marching and mass slaughters that had taken place; but it also meant an end to the grain doll. Land redistribution, road construction, an end to commercial taxes traveling between fiefs- post offices, and, most importantly...
The paladin glanced down to a patch of sullied, burnt out dirt and made a face. Flashes of gold shimmered beneath her feet, their roots going deep. The potato had stayed. Of all the things the demons had brought with them through their portals, of course the potato had survived. It was the sole survivor of the destruction wrought.
Of course.
A smile stretches across her face despite herself, knowing that wallowing would do her no good. It was the time for reminiscing, but not of that sort. A dear friend of hers had reached out for the first time in a decade, inviting her to their home. Their home brought a deluge of memories, not all of them kind, but she'd never been one to cower in fear of her own thoughts. It had been the place where she and her companions had defeated the Overlord, and, if what the letter had said was correct, the day of their reunion would be the anniversary to celebrate it.
Well. It was better than looking over these old men. Her job had been to make sure the Overlord's influence was scoured from the land- especially her propaganda. She'd been sure to save one, but she'd never bothered to learn demonic. The scribble on it, unfolded, meant nothing to her. All she could see were three words in thick violet text, just like the rest.
She'd never understand what had drawn the peasants to her, and, thankfully, she'd never have to worry about it again.
A fellowship of heroines is summoned to an old companion's castle to celebrate the defeat of a woman, a demon, that had once nearly conquered the world. Except, of course, plot twist, their friend has turned on them and sold them out- oops. Cue them being dominated and used by said demon in a revenge-fueled hatefuck as she happily takes her time using the bodies of the women that had thwarted her so long ago.
I wouldn't expect anything serious or long-term out of this unless we really hit it off. I'm a novella/advanced writer who enjoys lesbianism (their friend could be a male though, no complaints), spankings, femdom, cunnilingus, body worship, forced bisexuality/lesbianism, mind control, dub-con, exhibitionism, interracial (fantasy and otherwise), orgies, priest/paladins/nuns/clerics being defiled, forced and voluntary chastity, chastity being ruined, and the vast majority of vanilla and more mild things.
My limits are tentacles, feral animals, non-con, toys, choking, and most other things of that caliber. If you have to ask, then it's on this list. I don't enjoy extreme kinks.
PEACE
LAND
BREAD
Ten thousand miles of scorched earth stretch out in every direction from where she watches. Priests, mages, and agriculturalists whose professions she'd forgotten the name of long ago work day and night in another decade long attempt to bring it back to life. Every few hours they'd stumble upon another pamphlet or banner before turning it over to the tired soldiers overlooking them. They'd burn it, or peddle it away on a black market somewhere where it'd end up in the hands of some two bit warlord claiming to be the Overlord's successor, claiming it as evidence for their claim.
Maybe they would even succeed.
More likely they'd just end up being hung or shot in the head like countless others before them, but not before setting alight more farmland and emptying as many towns and cities before they'd gone.
For ten years the world had been this way. Recognizing it would be impossible- truly impossible. Any trustworthy, modern map wouldn't depict a single kingdom or state that had existed ten years ago, for they were all gone. The Overlord had ground them into dust, or fallen to the rabble in the wave of riots and revolutions that had taken place after her disappearance. The Overlord's defeat had put an end to the onslaught of her demons, the tireless marching and mass slaughters that had taken place; but it also meant an end to the grain doll. Land redistribution, road construction, an end to commercial taxes traveling between fiefs- post offices, and, most importantly...
The paladin glanced down to a patch of sullied, burnt out dirt and made a face. Flashes of gold shimmered beneath her feet, their roots going deep. The potato had stayed. Of all the things the demons had brought with them through their portals, of course the potato had survived. It was the sole survivor of the destruction wrought.
Of course.
A smile stretches across her face despite herself, knowing that wallowing would do her no good. It was the time for reminiscing, but not of that sort. A dear friend of hers had reached out for the first time in a decade, inviting her to their home. Their home brought a deluge of memories, not all of them kind, but she'd never been one to cower in fear of her own thoughts. It had been the place where she and her companions had defeated the Overlord, and, if what the letter had said was correct, the day of their reunion would be the anniversary to celebrate it.
Well. It was better than looking over these old men. Her job had been to make sure the Overlord's influence was scoured from the land- especially her propaganda. She'd been sure to save one, but she'd never bothered to learn demonic. The scribble on it, unfolded, meant nothing to her. All she could see were three words in thick violet text, just like the rest.
She'd never understand what had drawn the peasants to her, and, thankfully, she'd never have to worry about it again.
A fellowship of heroines is summoned to an old companion's castle to celebrate the defeat of a woman, a demon, that had once nearly conquered the world. Except, of course, plot twist, their friend has turned on them and sold them out- oops. Cue them being dominated and used by said demon in a revenge-fueled hatefuck as she happily takes her time using the bodies of the women that had thwarted her so long ago.
I wouldn't expect anything serious or long-term out of this unless we really hit it off. I'm a novella/advanced writer who enjoys lesbianism (their friend could be a male though, no complaints), spankings, femdom, cunnilingus, body worship, forced bisexuality/lesbianism, mind control, dub-con, exhibitionism, interracial (fantasy and otherwise), orgies, priest/paladins/nuns/clerics being defiled, forced and voluntary chastity, chastity being ruined, and the vast majority of vanilla and more mild things.
My limits are tentacles, feral animals, non-con, toys, choking, and most other things of that caliber. If you have to ask, then it's on this list. I don't enjoy extreme kinks.
Bump.
Bump.
Bump.
In
[F4GM] The Ocean Will Raise All Ships. (Nobledark WH40K, political thriller, antifascism.)
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
M/F/A4GM
The weapon holding them hostage is a thousand years of development away from piercing through his energy shield, much less the armor beneath it, but there is a chance, always, that the woman before him will land a lucky shot that punches through his exposed face. He expects her hands to be shaking, but they're not, kept calm by a clarity of hate that he's rarely seen on anyone but his fellow Inquisitors and their most enthusiastic of followers.
Inquisitor Kybel isn't even sure how she'd managed a weapon into his office without the men that had escorted her noticing it; perhaps they'd been distracted with striking her, if her swelling left eye was anything to go by.
'Useless fucking Guard,' he thinks, contenting himself to settle down into his chair. She hasn't shot him yet, which he finds interesting. It gives him time to piece together that she was here for him, and the reason she wasn't speaking or making demands was because they both knew that he wouldn't understand her language even if she tried.
Which meant she was here to kill him. Well. No reason to deny her, then.
"Go on." He says. She stiffens, fingers rapping on the handle of her strange pistol, still watching him. "You made it all this way. Why stop here?"
There's a flicker of very human annoyance on her face that he can't help but smile at. She wants him nervous, but he can't give it to her just yet.
"Are you waiting for something?"
His eyes flick towards the door where three thousand men and women wait to barge in the moment he wishes them to. Kybel thinks they're there, anyways. He's fairly certain she's alone, but the uncertainty has him excited in a way he hasn't felt in decades - maybe her people have already overrun the army of fools he'd been given to carry out this purge.
The look on her face answers him, and his next realization is that she understands him well enough, evidently talented enough at watching people to tie meaning to his gestures and his Gothic.
"I am the highest appointed man on his planet. If you're looking for somebody higher on the chain of command, then you're going to be disappointed. My master is a ways away from here."
"Bring... him."
Kybel blinks, tilting his head.
"Pardon?"
"Bring him." More certainly now, her unpracticed tongue presses the unfamiliar words out of her mouth, and his equally inexperienced ears strain to understand her through the deep accent she's fighting through.
"I can't."
Her finger pulls the trigger. Just as he'd expected, the slug stops well short of his body, vaporized inches before his face by the energy surrounding him. He breathes a sigh of relief just as disappointment and fear settle back over her. Now she trembles, as much from terror as contempt.
"But," he continues, as if she hadn't just attempted to shoot him in the face. "I can bring you to him. If you're patient enough."
[=== THIRTY YEARS LATER. SOME TIME AFTER THE FALL OF CADIA. ===]
She takes a breath for comfort, feeling the stimulants work their magic on her fatigued, uniquely struggling body. Space travel had never been a favorite activity for her physiology and she's in a position where simply hiding in a corner while her organs struggled to function in artificial gravity would not be tolerated.
There was no hiding anymore. Not here. Not on the Voidship, and perhaps not ever again.
She feels him before he speaks, the type of man who never had to request permission to be wherever he wished.
"An excellent place for contemplation. One has the best view of the cathedral from here. Mesmerizing, wouldn't you say? An impeccable manifestation of the God-Emperor's sublimity." Kunrad Voigtvir. She's never met him before, but his face is one she recognizes well. They're... cousins, she thinks.
"I most appreciate the awe it inspires that brings people together. Just as we are now. All for one purpose."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Howdy.
So, yeah. If that ending bit wasn't clear enough, to offer more details; I'm looking for somebody interested in a Rogue Trader inspired roleplay; I don't actually care if we use anything from the game, but it is my assumption we're doing so until you, my partner, request otherwise. Our player character is a woman on a mission, one that they've been working towards ever since the Imperium arrived on the world many years ago and put it to the torch with Exterminatus - only they were pardoned, given a stay of execution thanks to the DNA that ran through their veins.
Given a chance for revenge, they allowed themselves to be forcefully adopted, playing the part of a servile scion of their family, a black sheep with little in the way of respect, with the hope that they might one day be able to take revenge on behalf of their destroyed people.
It's to my imagination that this RP will be a massive slowburn involving espionage, politics, the depiction of the Imperium as being a true force for evil in the galaxy that must be destroyed. General content warning for police states, fascism, and genocide (but with a light at the end of the tunnel.)
Looking to GM for someone interested in playing two or a handful of female heroes in a short-term story.
PEACE
LAND
BREAD
Ten thousand miles of scorched earth stretch out in every direction from where she watches. Priests, mages, and agriculturalists whose professions she'd forgotten the name of long ago work day and night in another decade long attempt to bring it back to life. Every few hours they'd stumble upon another pamphlet or banner before turning it over to the tired soldiers overlooking them. They'd burn it, or peddle it away on a black market somewhere where it'd end up in the hands of some two bit warlord claiming to be the Overlord's successor, claiming it as evidence for their claim.
Maybe they would even succeed.
More likely they'd just end up being hung or shot in the head like countless others before them, but not before setting alight more farmland and emptying as many towns and cities before they'd gone.
For ten years the world had been this way. Recognizing it would be impossible- truly impossible. Any trustworthy, modern map wouldn't depict a single kingdom or state that had existed ten years ago, for they were all gone. The Overlord had ground them into dust, or fallen to the rabble in the wave of riots and revolutions that had taken place after her disappearance. The Overlord's defeat had put an end to the onslaught of her demons, the tireless marching and mass slaughters that had taken place; but it also meant an end to the grain doll. Land redistribution, road construction, an end to commercial taxes traveling between fiefs- post offices, and, most importantly...
The paladin glanced down to a patch of sullied, burnt out dirt and made a face. Flashes of gold shimmered beneath her feet, their roots going deep. The potato had stayed. Of all the things the demons had brought with them through their portals, of course the potato had survived. It was the sole survivor of the destruction wrought.
Of course.
A smile stretches across her face despite herself, knowing that wallowing would do her no good. It was the time for reminiscing, but not of that sort. A dear friend of hers had reached out for the first time in a decade, inviting her to their home. Their home brought a deluge of memories, not all of them kind, but she'd never been one to cower in fear of her own thoughts. It had been the place where she and her companions had defeated the Overlord, and, if what the letter had said was correct, the day of their reunion would be the anniversary to celebrate it.
Well. It was better than looking over these old men. Her job had been to make sure the Overlord's influence was scoured from the land- especially her propaganda. She'd been sure to save one, but she'd never bothered to learn demonic. The scribble on it, unfolded, meant nothing to her. All she could see were three words in thick violet text, just like the rest.
She'd never understand what had drawn the peasants to her, and, thankfully, she'd never have to worry about it again.
A fellowship of heroines is summoned to an old companion's castle to celebrate the defeat of a woman, a demon, that had once nearly conquered the world. Except, of course, plot twist, their friend has turned on them and sold them out- oops. Cue them being dominated and used by said demon in a revenge-fueled hatefuck as she happily takes her time using the bodies of the women that had thwarted her so long ago.
I wouldn't expect anything serious or long-term out of this unless we really hit it off. I'm a novella/advanced writer who enjoys lesbianism (their friend could be a male though, no complaints), spankings, femdom, cunnilingus, body worship, forced bisexuality/lesbianism, mind control, dub-con, exhibitionism, interracial (fantasy and otherwise), orgies, priest/paladins/nuns/clerics being defiled, forced and voluntary chastity, chastity being ruined, and the vast majority of vanilla and more mild things.
My limits are tentacles, feral animals, non-con, toys, choking, and most other things of that caliber. If you have to ask, then it's on this list. I don't enjoy extreme kinks.
PEACE
LAND
BREAD
Ten thousand miles of scorched earth stretch out in every direction from where she watches. Priests, mages, and agriculturalists whose professions she'd forgotten the name of long ago work day and night in another decade long attempt to bring it back to life. Every few hours they'd stumble upon another pamphlet or banner before turning it over to the tired soldiers overlooking them. They'd burn it, or peddle it away on a black market somewhere where it'd end up in the hands of some two bit warlord claiming to be the Overlord's successor, claiming it as evidence for their claim.
Maybe they would even succeed.
More likely they'd just end up being hung or shot in the head like countless others before them, but not before setting alight more farmland and emptying as many towns and cities before they'd gone.
For ten years the world had been this way. Recognizing it would be impossible- truly impossible. Any trustworthy, modern map wouldn't depict a single kingdom or state that had existed ten years ago, for they were all gone. The Overlord had ground them into dust, or fallen to the rabble in the wave of riots and revolutions that had taken place after her disappearance. The Overlord's defeat had put an end to the onslaught of her demons, the tireless marching and mass slaughters that had taken place; but it also meant an end to the grain doll. Land redistribution, road construction, an end to commercial taxes traveling between fiefs- post offices, and, most importantly...
The paladin glanced down to a patch of sullied, burnt out dirt and made a face. Flashes of gold shimmered beneath her feet, their roots going deep. The potato had stayed. Of all the things the demons had brought with them through their portals, of course the potato had survived. It was the sole survivor of the destruction wrought.
Of course.
A smile stretches across her face despite herself, knowing that wallowing would do her no good. It was the time for reminiscing, but not of that sort. A dear friend of hers had reached out for the first time in a decade, inviting her to their home. Their home brought a deluge of memories, not all of them kind, but she'd never been one to cower in fear of her own thoughts. It had been the place where she and her companions had defeated the Overlord, and, if what the letter had said was correct, the day of their reunion would be the anniversary to celebrate it.
Well. It was better than looking over these old men. Her job had been to make sure the Overlord's influence was scoured from the land- especially her propaganda. She'd been sure to save one, but she'd never bothered to learn demonic. The scribble on it, unfolded, meant nothing to her. All she could see were three words in thick violet text, just like the rest.
She'd never understand what had drawn the peasants to her, and, thankfully, she'd never have to worry about it again.
A fellowship of heroines is summoned to an old companion's castle to celebrate the defeat of a woman, a demon, that had once nearly conquered the world. Except, of course, plot twist, their friend has turned on them and sold them out- oops. Cue them being dominated and used by said demon in a revenge-fueled hatefuck as she happily takes her time using the bodies of the women that had thwarted her so long ago.
I wouldn't expect anything serious or long-term out of this unless we really hit it off. I'm a novella/advanced writer who enjoys lesbianism (their friend could be a male though, no complaints), spankings, femdom, cunnilingus, body worship, forced bisexuality/lesbianism, mind control, dub-con, exhibitionism, interracial (fantasy and otherwise), orgies, priest/paladins/nuns/clerics being defiled, forced and voluntary chastity, chastity being ruined, and the vast majority of vanilla and more mild things.
My limits are tentacles, feral animals, non-con, toys, choking, and most other things of that caliber. If you have to ask, then it's on this list. I don't enjoy extreme kinks.
Bump.
Bump.
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