Since it has been nearly a month since your last post I am considering this RP inactive and I am unsubscribing from it. Please tag and PM me if you decide to post again. @Wild Alyssa
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One of my D&D campaigns turns 25 years old this month.
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Bio
It took me 10 years to finally fill one of these out, but I finally did it. Welcome, stranger.
I'm Drache. I'm a millenial leftist living in the US deep south. I'm a queer polyamorous kinkster. You can find me at PRIDE, at Ren Fair, at the local farmer's market, and the monthly dark party. I play D&D, I play Skyrim, and I play with gags and blindfolds. I'm your elder femdom, even though my bones hurt.
During the day I'm an emergency animal medical professional with 20 years in the field. On my off time I'm a dog show enthusiast, a karaoke singer, a baker, and a volunteer wildlife rehabilitator. I'm a collector of rare houseplants, of rescued exotic birds, of books, of tattoos. I'm the most feral spouse with the most domestic skills. I'm perpetually exhausted but endlessly impulsive.
If you're looking for a partner to share in your high fantasy, in your dark themes, in your deranged kinky monsterfucking, send me a PM.
What else is there to say?
Most Recent Posts
Since it has been nearly a month since your last post I am considering this RP inactive and I am unsubscribing from it. Please tag and PM me if you decide to post again. @Wild Alyssa
"Yes, Laurel, yes. We will," the half-dragon murmured, letting Laurel lean on her. She glanced at Kraven, who would be the only one who noticed the look of dismay on Drache's normally unperturbed features, proving her to be a bit out of her depth when it came to comforting someone over something serious.
Thus, she wasn't looking at the quiet drow when he disappeared, but as they were already moving towards the rocks it would become somewhat apparent what had happened soon enough.
"Oh, shit, Sirik" the cross-breed cursed quietly, and she would have circled the pit to look in if Laurel hadn't been nearly attached to her by then. Leaning down as much as she could, the archaeologist tried to make out the markings but didn't recognize them at all. Even languages she couldn't read or write she could usually at least pinpoint what language the symbols belonged to, but strangely this one was completely alien. Touching them only deepened the mystery, and thankfully didn't reproduce the spell that had dropped Sirik thirty feet into a watery hole.
Drache looked up just in time to see the torch leave Kraven's hand and lifted her clawed fingers, "No, wait...!"
But it was too late, Drache's breath hissed as she took a breath and held it with anticipation, her ear-frills flattening back against her head. The gyser shot up, pelting them all with spray, and the half-dragon barely had time to lift her wing to block the worst of it from splattering all over her and Laurel.
"Kraven, you idiot!" Drache snarled, her voice low but burning with ire through her teeth as she rounded on the klutzy human, being careful to avoid standing over the pit. "That's obviously some sort of enchanted booby-trap. Can't you do anything about it? And keep quiet before you get us all killed!"
Tail swishing hotly, Drache peered down through the gloom, able to see through the blackness to where Sirik was motioning with his hands. Thankfully able to understand him, the hybrid had to ask him to repeat himself only once or twice and then asked if he wanted rope tied up on the surface and left to dangle for him or if he wanted a whole coil thrown down to him. Once she got her answer, Drache dug in her pack, pulling her rope up from the bottom and situating it for Sirik.
"See if you can find another way up," she signed to him. "I don't think we can get down this way." And it wouldn't be wise to try to get Sirik up this way either, even if they decided to abandon whatever waited from them down there.
While waiting for the drow to do whatever if was he was going to do, Drache found a piece of thin parchment and took a rubbing of the strange glyphs, not wanting to forget what they looked like.
"We will get to her as fast as we can, pet, but it wouldn't be helpful to get killed on the way, would it? Tell me what else you can feel." Even if Laurel couldn't sense anything useful, it might keep her focused on something for a few minutes. Drache herself could only sense the fire, but was still feeling a bit haunted by the scream.
Moving in the same direction Sirik had mentioned he had seen the tunnel, Drache looked for anything else in this thicket that might hint at a way to get underground.
Thus, she wasn't looking at the quiet drow when he disappeared, but as they were already moving towards the rocks it would become somewhat apparent what had happened soon enough.
"Oh, shit, Sirik" the cross-breed cursed quietly, and she would have circled the pit to look in if Laurel hadn't been nearly attached to her by then. Leaning down as much as she could, the archaeologist tried to make out the markings but didn't recognize them at all. Even languages she couldn't read or write she could usually at least pinpoint what language the symbols belonged to, but strangely this one was completely alien. Touching them only deepened the mystery, and thankfully didn't reproduce the spell that had dropped Sirik thirty feet into a watery hole.
Drache looked up just in time to see the torch leave Kraven's hand and lifted her clawed fingers, "No, wait...!"
But it was too late, Drache's breath hissed as she took a breath and held it with anticipation, her ear-frills flattening back against her head. The gyser shot up, pelting them all with spray, and the half-dragon barely had time to lift her wing to block the worst of it from splattering all over her and Laurel.
"Kraven, you idiot!" Drache snarled, her voice low but burning with ire through her teeth as she rounded on the klutzy human, being careful to avoid standing over the pit. "That's obviously some sort of enchanted booby-trap. Can't you do anything about it? And keep quiet before you get us all killed!"
Tail swishing hotly, Drache peered down through the gloom, able to see through the blackness to where Sirik was motioning with his hands. Thankfully able to understand him, the hybrid had to ask him to repeat himself only once or twice and then asked if he wanted rope tied up on the surface and left to dangle for him or if he wanted a whole coil thrown down to him. Once she got her answer, Drache dug in her pack, pulling her rope up from the bottom and situating it for Sirik.
"See if you can find another way up," she signed to him. "I don't think we can get down this way." And it wouldn't be wise to try to get Sirik up this way either, even if they decided to abandon whatever waited from them down there.
While waiting for the drow to do whatever if was he was going to do, Drache found a piece of thin parchment and took a rubbing of the strange glyphs, not wanting to forget what they looked like.
"We will get to her as fast as we can, pet, but it wouldn't be helpful to get killed on the way, would it? Tell me what else you can feel." Even if Laurel couldn't sense anything useful, it might keep her focused on something for a few minutes. Drache herself could only sense the fire, but was still feeling a bit haunted by the scream.
Moving in the same direction Sirik had mentioned he had seen the tunnel, Drache looked for anything else in this thicket that might hint at a way to get underground.
The big gryphon was not impressed by the Charr's grin, and simply stared unblinkingly, lifting Rilana's unconscious form protectively towards his white and black underbelly with both sets of fore-talons as he leaned back on his haunches. Kona's dark wings flared outwards just as Svarak lifted his sword, anticipating the strike as the glittering sword slashed through the invisible barrier and the ground fell out from underneath them. The pit was too narrow for him to glide properly, so the gryphon flapped hard, letting air spill out from under his impressive feathers to slow his descent and avoid landing on the huge dragon at the bottom. Carrying his Mistress was little different from carrying prey, though Kona was much more gentle with the limp Moon Fey than he would have been with a horse or reindeer.
Kona set Rilana down on the stone, leaning down with his huge beaked face to nuzzle her head from side to side, small birdlike squeaks of distress whistling through his maw as he pawed at her worriedly. His ear-tufts twitched. He put himself between her and both Svarak and the dragon, trusting no one, especially when the charr came towards them with the sword. Did he not care that she was hurt?! Kona tilted his head at the sword as Svarak embedded it in the rock and ruffled his wings angrily.
It was only the repetitive concussive shaking of the ground under the massive footsteps of the huge ice monster that earned a flutter of Rilana's eyelashes. "Svarak?" Only the Lord Knight made her head hurt this much. She moaned softly, her face twisting with a pained frown as she lifted her hand, reaching dazedly towards where she thought Kona was. "Kona?" Missing, her hand landed on the very tip of the dragon's tail, and his voice, weak as it was, seemed to hammer reverberatingly inside her skull.
"...ow. Shush, my love. Don't worry." She wasn't sure if she said it out loud or inside her head, or both, her tone as gentle as if she was tiredly comforting a kitten. Her eyes opened blearily, taking in the scene as she repeated her attempt to grab at Kona, who her her use his neck as he lifted her to her feet. Glancing around, it took a silent query at the gryphon to figure out what had just happened, and together they backed away from the approaching monster, though all of Kona's fur raised in fluffy irritation and mistrust as they scooted closer to the dying dragon.
Turning somewhat gingerly as she continued to recover from smacking into the shield, Rilana turned and looked at the dragon, reaching out to touch his sickly-feverish graying scales. "Oh you poor thing." She stroked her fingertips across the ridges over its eyes, hoping that the first dragon she ever touched wouldn't die so soon.
The sword, Kona reminded her. He says not to touch the blade.
Fear, greater than any she had felt since entering the tower, slid uncomfortably into Rilana's belly as she thought about touching the Null Shard. Almost as though ignoring it, she climbed back up onto Kona's back, only reaching down for the handle of the massive blade and trying to pull it. She could barely lift it, and grunted as she laid it across her lap so that it wouldn't flail about as Kona jumped into the air again.
With a glance back at Svarak, who was literally punching the ice golem to death, Rilana and Kona flew up to the bubble-shield and the gryphon hovered in place while Rilana carefully poked at it with the huge sword. She held the hilt with one hand and balanced the blade across her forarm, both to help control the weight and to keep it from touching Kona's back.
The shape of the shield lit up before her eyes, illuminated by the power of the sword. Rilana couldn't explain how she knew, but she could feel that the funneling shape shooting up through the tower was the link between the dragon and whatever was draining its life away. Shoving the sword-point through the barrier and urging Kona forwards, the pair swept swiftly around the pit to destroy the shield.
--
Upstairs, Ortha dutifully followed Alya into the Library, one head keeping an eye on the tiny half-elf while the other promptly began sniffing around and began scarfing the edge of a large book. The balauradon had no interest in loot, not even as something Rilana might be interested in. The two-headed creature seemed to grow especially gluttonous for a few minutes while the Moon Fey was unconscious, growling wetly at Drisceya when the drow moved closer to her, but then looked up with irritation.
The songweaver had disappeared again.
Grumbling, the balauradon sniffed around and began to climb the staircase, most of a book still sticking out of one of her mouths.
Kona set Rilana down on the stone, leaning down with his huge beaked face to nuzzle her head from side to side, small birdlike squeaks of distress whistling through his maw as he pawed at her worriedly. His ear-tufts twitched. He put himself between her and both Svarak and the dragon, trusting no one, especially when the charr came towards them with the sword. Did he not care that she was hurt?! Kona tilted his head at the sword as Svarak embedded it in the rock and ruffled his wings angrily.
It was only the repetitive concussive shaking of the ground under the massive footsteps of the huge ice monster that earned a flutter of Rilana's eyelashes. "Svarak?" Only the Lord Knight made her head hurt this much. She moaned softly, her face twisting with a pained frown as she lifted her hand, reaching dazedly towards where she thought Kona was. "Kona?" Missing, her hand landed on the very tip of the dragon's tail, and his voice, weak as it was, seemed to hammer reverberatingly inside her skull.
"...ow. Shush, my love. Don't worry." She wasn't sure if she said it out loud or inside her head, or both, her tone as gentle as if she was tiredly comforting a kitten. Her eyes opened blearily, taking in the scene as she repeated her attempt to grab at Kona, who her her use his neck as he lifted her to her feet. Glancing around, it took a silent query at the gryphon to figure out what had just happened, and together they backed away from the approaching monster, though all of Kona's fur raised in fluffy irritation and mistrust as they scooted closer to the dying dragon.
Turning somewhat gingerly as she continued to recover from smacking into the shield, Rilana turned and looked at the dragon, reaching out to touch his sickly-feverish graying scales. "Oh you poor thing." She stroked her fingertips across the ridges over its eyes, hoping that the first dragon she ever touched wouldn't die so soon.
The sword, Kona reminded her. He says not to touch the blade.
Fear, greater than any she had felt since entering the tower, slid uncomfortably into Rilana's belly as she thought about touching the Null Shard. Almost as though ignoring it, she climbed back up onto Kona's back, only reaching down for the handle of the massive blade and trying to pull it. She could barely lift it, and grunted as she laid it across her lap so that it wouldn't flail about as Kona jumped into the air again.
With a glance back at Svarak, who was literally punching the ice golem to death, Rilana and Kona flew up to the bubble-shield and the gryphon hovered in place while Rilana carefully poked at it with the huge sword. She held the hilt with one hand and balanced the blade across her forarm, both to help control the weight and to keep it from touching Kona's back.
The shape of the shield lit up before her eyes, illuminated by the power of the sword. Rilana couldn't explain how she knew, but she could feel that the funneling shape shooting up through the tower was the link between the dragon and whatever was draining its life away. Shoving the sword-point through the barrier and urging Kona forwards, the pair swept swiftly around the pit to destroy the shield.
--
Upstairs, Ortha dutifully followed Alya into the Library, one head keeping an eye on the tiny half-elf while the other promptly began sniffing around and began scarfing the edge of a large book. The balauradon had no interest in loot, not even as something Rilana might be interested in. The two-headed creature seemed to grow especially gluttonous for a few minutes while the Moon Fey was unconscious, growling wetly at Drisceya when the drow moved closer to her, but then looked up with irritation.
The songweaver had disappeared again.
Grumbling, the balauradon sniffed around and began to climb the staircase, most of a book still sticking out of one of her mouths.
Bump
Asher frowned a little as he pinched the first small thread of twine, pulling it away from Lyriia's body so that he could slip the point of his dagger under it and slice through it without cutting the fairy herself.
"I said I'd let you out," Asher repeated grimly, "I didn't say I'd let you free, Lyriia. You wandered too far from Ebonfort lands, don't you think?"
The handsome-but-scarred man let his stormy eyes fall on the fairy's pretty face at that, noting her tear-streaked cheeks, but ultimately letting his words have time to sink in as he continued to work at the net, piece by piece. It was slow and tedious work, not the kind that Asher appreciated, and Lyriia had gotten herself quite tangled. Now and then his fingers, callused from the weapons he weilded, brushed against her tiny body, but it was always an accident.
"It is the tradition of my people to capture yours and bring them back to the Tribe. I like to think it's a better policy than the Ebon Knights rule to slaughter every Kvaren they find, don't you?" There was a bitterness there, born out of a cultural and historical hatred for Ebonfort, but tempered and honed by some personal tragedy into the surliness that filled Asher's gray gaze like a cloud.
When the Swordmaster could actually reach it, he teased Lyriia's dagger out of the sheath on her hip and threaded it like a pin through the hem of his shirt like a straight pin, out of her reach.
The golden shafts of light falling like pillars all around the thicket were still full of the sights and sounds of tiny birds fluttering and chirping almost frantically in their busy way, though there was a loud squeaking that seemed more panicked than the rest of the noise.
When the last thread was cut, Asher returned his dagger to his hip and curled his fingers around underneath Lyriia like a cage, lifting her free from the leafy ground up to his face where he could look at her better. There was room in his hand for the fairy to wiggle around, but his fingers were stiff, one in between each of her limbs so that she wasn't quite free to fly off.
"Luckily for you, I don't carry a birdcage with me or I'd be tempted to bring you back to camp. And you're far too small for my handcuffs." His lips turned up in a grin that suggested he hadn't intended to take her captive at all but needed an excuse not to.
"My name is Asher. Asher Kincade of the Thunderfangs. And you don't need to call me 'Sir', I'm no cursed Knight. But I do want to know what you're doing out here. Are you alone?"
He twisted his hand a little to get a better look at her wings, still trying his best to not crush the tiny creature.
"I said I'd let you out," Asher repeated grimly, "I didn't say I'd let you free, Lyriia. You wandered too far from Ebonfort lands, don't you think?"
The handsome-but-scarred man let his stormy eyes fall on the fairy's pretty face at that, noting her tear-streaked cheeks, but ultimately letting his words have time to sink in as he continued to work at the net, piece by piece. It was slow and tedious work, not the kind that Asher appreciated, and Lyriia had gotten herself quite tangled. Now and then his fingers, callused from the weapons he weilded, brushed against her tiny body, but it was always an accident.
"It is the tradition of my people to capture yours and bring them back to the Tribe. I like to think it's a better policy than the Ebon Knights rule to slaughter every Kvaren they find, don't you?" There was a bitterness there, born out of a cultural and historical hatred for Ebonfort, but tempered and honed by some personal tragedy into the surliness that filled Asher's gray gaze like a cloud.
When the Swordmaster could actually reach it, he teased Lyriia's dagger out of the sheath on her hip and threaded it like a pin through the hem of his shirt like a straight pin, out of her reach.
The golden shafts of light falling like pillars all around the thicket were still full of the sights and sounds of tiny birds fluttering and chirping almost frantically in their busy way, though there was a loud squeaking that seemed more panicked than the rest of the noise.
When the last thread was cut, Asher returned his dagger to his hip and curled his fingers around underneath Lyriia like a cage, lifting her free from the leafy ground up to his face where he could look at her better. There was room in his hand for the fairy to wiggle around, but his fingers were stiff, one in between each of her limbs so that she wasn't quite free to fly off.
"Luckily for you, I don't carry a birdcage with me or I'd be tempted to bring you back to camp. And you're far too small for my handcuffs." His lips turned up in a grin that suggested he hadn't intended to take her captive at all but needed an excuse not to.
"My name is Asher. Asher Kincade of the Thunderfangs. And you don't need to call me 'Sir', I'm no cursed Knight. But I do want to know what you're doing out here. Are you alone?"
He twisted his hand a little to get a better look at her wings, still trying his best to not crush the tiny creature.
Dragons, Magic, Smut.
@RomanAria Please let me know if you're interested in continuing this.
Starting Date and Time: Jedeyan 28th, night
Starting Location: Kerawac, Crimson Vines Scout Party camp
CS URLs: Drachiathoryx and Raffey Silafin
Before arriving at the Kvaren Tribal Gathering, Drachiathoryx' had traveled primarily on foot to match the pace of her new friends. But now that they were under the burden of a new mission to find some sort of murderers in the west and were making good time on horseback, the fiery half-dragon had once again taken to the skies.
Not that she didn't want to travel alongside Laurel and the others, but she just didn't get along with horses. Perhaps somewhere in the world there existed saddlebeasts who would tolerate a fever-hot scaled carnivore sitting on their back, but with wings of her own it had never been something Drache had any interest in learning, and she wasn't about to start now.
If the scouting party had been riding at full gallop, they would have left their winged friend far behind, but being unhindered by the natural roll in the land as well as the constant wind she could use to her advantage, Drache managed to keep pace rather easily, making herself little more than a kite-sized shape in the cloudless blue sky while she kept an eye on the party below. After the fun of the last few days it was rather boring to be all alone, but the break gave her time to organize her thoughts, re-establishing the importance of Peridiath's Mission, and reminding her not to get too attached to these people.
It also gave her an opportunity to scan the grassy landscape for signs of ruins or anything else of interest, and while she didn't really have time to investigate, she did occasionally land to update her map and her logbook, dutifully keeping track both for Peri and for her own interests. Whenever the half-breed fell behind, she could stiffen her wings and dive, using gravity and momentum to bring her back in line with the Kvaren. They used her to scout ahead, and she felt a flicker of pride at being trusted to do so, even though it was completely logical.
When darkness crept across the sky, Drache circled and landed among them when she noticed them stopping to make camp for the night. Laurel had been kind enough to let the half-dragon put part of her gear on the Alufiend's saddlehorse to carry, and the half-dragon recovered it, her wings hanging loosely from her back and catching the firelight in a radiant glitter as she arrived within the circle of warmth around the fire. Most of the travelers were busy setting up their tents already, or scrounging through their rations for food since they hadn't taken the time to hunt anything fresh.
Starting Location: Kerawac, Crimson Vines Scout Party camp
CS URLs: Drachiathoryx and Raffey Silafin
Before arriving at the Kvaren Tribal Gathering, Drachiathoryx' had traveled primarily on foot to match the pace of her new friends. But now that they were under the burden of a new mission to find some sort of murderers in the west and were making good time on horseback, the fiery half-dragon had once again taken to the skies.
Not that she didn't want to travel alongside Laurel and the others, but she just didn't get along with horses. Perhaps somewhere in the world there existed saddlebeasts who would tolerate a fever-hot scaled carnivore sitting on their back, but with wings of her own it had never been something Drache had any interest in learning, and she wasn't about to start now.
If the scouting party had been riding at full gallop, they would have left their winged friend far behind, but being unhindered by the natural roll in the land as well as the constant wind she could use to her advantage, Drache managed to keep pace rather easily, making herself little more than a kite-sized shape in the cloudless blue sky while she kept an eye on the party below. After the fun of the last few days it was rather boring to be all alone, but the break gave her time to organize her thoughts, re-establishing the importance of Peridiath's Mission, and reminding her not to get too attached to these people.
It also gave her an opportunity to scan the grassy landscape for signs of ruins or anything else of interest, and while she didn't really have time to investigate, she did occasionally land to update her map and her logbook, dutifully keeping track both for Peri and for her own interests. Whenever the half-breed fell behind, she could stiffen her wings and dive, using gravity and momentum to bring her back in line with the Kvaren. They used her to scout ahead, and she felt a flicker of pride at being trusted to do so, even though it was completely logical.
When darkness crept across the sky, Drache circled and landed among them when she noticed them stopping to make camp for the night. Laurel had been kind enough to let the half-dragon put part of her gear on the Alufiend's saddlehorse to carry, and the half-dragon recovered it, her wings hanging loosely from her back and catching the firelight in a radiant glitter as she arrived within the circle of warmth around the fire. Most of the travelers were busy setting up their tents already, or scrounging through their rations for food since they hadn't taken the time to hunt anything fresh.
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