#He's actually fairly tall and broad for an elf

[lassieposting]

So in NOTW Illyana had three daughters with Lord Zerbst, one of whom had just made her a grandmother before the Sacking of Kaer Morhen. As children of a noble house, those daughters would've married into other noble houses across the Continent.

Anyway AU where she survives to see her youngest daughter marry a Pankratz of Lettenhove.

She survives to see the birth of several grandchildren and even more great-grandchildren, including a brood of Pankratzes.

Everyone in Jaskier's family knows that Great-Grandmama had a tame witcher. It's part of the Family Lore. Jaskier - Julian, back then - spent more time in disgrace at Great-Grandmama's lake house than his better-behaved siblings, and he's fairly sure he actually bumped into the witcher - gods, what was his name? - once or twice; tall and strong, golden-eyed and intimidating. He's only ever known Great-Grandmama as a twinkly-eyed, wizened raisin of a woman who walked with a cane, but her witcher looked young enough to be her grandson himself, no older than Father.

(He's fairly sure he only remembers these chance meetings at all because Great-Grandmama's witcher really had been quite startlingly handsome. Jaskier has always appreciated broad shoulders and toned arms. Perhaps this was something of a formative experience for him.)

She told him once that they'd once been children together, and that her witcher had grown boys of his own, but Jaskier hadn't believed her. No way they were the same age.

They seemed happy, though, despite the age gap. He remembers her giggling like a schoolgirl as her witcher swept her off her feet to lift her into her carriage as though she weighed nothing at all.

(Looking back, and with the advantage of knowing Geralt, the swords the monster hunter carried probably weighed more than she did, by then. She really was terribly old.)

He remembers the roll of letters she kept in her bedside drawer - yes, he was a snoop as a boy, sue him - tied up with a silk ribbon. Remembers the stories she told him when he was small, of brave and heroic monster hunters protecting the innocent from a grisly fate.

He finds himself telling Geralt's family this little nugget of Pankratz family history over an evening of ale, passing on Great-Grandmama's stories. The one about the two young witchers teaming up against a manticore. The one about the big battle at some hidden witcher fortress a long way from Lettenhove - the battle that almost killed her witcher, and would've killed her too had he not sent her away beforehand. The one about the witcher and the elf king.

And when he finishes the story, he realises that his audience has gone very quiet and very still

And they're all staring at Vesemir

[patheticnugbaby]

“How suggestively Dalish do you think we can make this outfit, Madame Vivienne?”

“It won’t look as good but I’m sure we could manage some dalish-inspired embroidery and design if that’s what you want, darling.”

Rajmahel Lavellan after he cuts his hair and spends an afternoon or three being outfitted by Vivienne and her seamstress because I desperately wanted that kind of extra bonding scene with her because I love her.

He looks a lot like his brother with his hair like this.

[exn0bisstudios]

ROs physical descriptions please? Also already simping for Nova, the beautiful nightmare/tulpa(??)

Sure thing! And I'm glad, considering Nova could be viewed as a Nightmare both literally and figuratively, depending on who you ask. :’)

Note: Stella & Mira's appearances genuinely don't change much between genders, so what you see below is valid for any iteration of them.

Mira Twilight

Broad and tall, standing at 6'5" (196cm) with a chiseled, muscular frame. They have deep umber skin with earthy undertones, bright brown eyes, and raven hair worn in a protective style (locs for m!Mira, twists for f!Mira) reaching to about their waist. Typically, they will wear their hair in a 'half up (bun), half down' style or secured in a single large braid for travel. They are peppered with scars acquired during their work as a Hunter and view them as badges of pride. They have dimples that show up even with the weakest smile. Fairly typical body hair for their respective sex, and m!Mira is known to occasionally rock some stubble during long journeys. They prefer simple, practical fashion when not in their armor - which is rarely. They are always seen with at least one weapon at hand at any given time (including the garrote wire sewn into the seam of their undies).

Stella, aka "Echo"

Lithe and agile, standing at 5'8" (173cm) with a strong frame of compact muscle. They have rich golden beige skin with earthy undertones, piercing azure eyes, and loosely wavy blue-black hair worn in an asymmetrical bob. They have their fair share of scars, though none of any real note. They are liberally dotted with beauty spots all over their body, though notably two beneath their left eye and one on the right side of their chin. They have a weak dimple in their left cheek, usually only noticeable when they smirk. Fairly typical body hair for their respective sex, and they make an effort to remain well-groomed at all times; m!Stella, in particular, dislikes his facial hair and goes out of his way to be clean-shaven. They prefer practical fashion that allows for freedom of movement, almost exclusively in dark colors.

Désiré Desrosiers

Wirey and tall, standing at 6'2" (188cm) with a surprisingly elegant frame of compact muscle. He has pale white skin with jewel undertones, icy blue eyes with a dark blue outer rim, and warm black hair of uneven, unruly curls. Typically wears his hair loose but will occasionally try to tame it back into a small, messy tail. An appropriate amount of scars for his profession, though none of particular note. Has the short, pointed ears typical of a half-elf, though they are often hidden by his curls. He has the rough hands of a sailor but usually keeps his callouses hidden beneath gloves. Has very light body hair by human standards, but particularly heavy for a half-elf. He maintains full facial hair that seems permanently hovering between stubble and full-blown beard status. Refuses to shave, as he claims it'll make him look like a teenager again (and it absolutely does). He prefers fashion that is durable and utilitarian, with an aesthetic ranging from 'successful rogue' to 'grungy stealth hobo' depending on how long he's been at sea.

Nova Dreamreaver

Elegant and spry, standing at 6' (183cm) with a frame of smooth, shapely muscle. They have cool gray skin with purplish undertones, gray sclera with pearlescent irises and slit pupils, and matching straight, waist-length hair that they wear in various complex styles. They have six piercings (2 lobe, 1 upper cartilage x2) in their long, pointed ears and often switch out their jewelry daily. They seem to be perpetually smirking, often showing their fangs that are longer than the elven standard. No scars or blemishes of any kind to speak of. Only vellus body hair, as is typical for an elf. They have an excellent eye for fashion and prefer colorful and expensive clothing, high heels, and plenty of accessories.

Vittore Simone Armati

Solid and robust, standing at 6'2" (188cm) with a sculpted frame of lean muscle. He has warm tawny skin with earthy undertones that easily tans into rich gold, striking amber eyes, and jet black corkscrew curls that cascade to mid-back. Has dubbed his hair untameable and therefore rarely styles it beyond appropriate cleansing and upkeep. He will attempt to tie it back in something resembling a bun if the need is dire. His face (especially across his cheeks and nose), arms, chest, upper back, and tops of his thighs are all covered in freckles. His pointed ears are a little longer than the typical half-elf, the lobes of each bearing marks from healed piercings. He has an abnormally massive amount of scarring, especially given his noble upbringing. You can find a scar of some description on nearly every part of his body; the most notable are the long, thin lines on his back, the backs of his arms/shoulders, and the backs of his thighs. The concentration in these areas is so high they have become scars on top of scars, and he takes special care to keep these areas covered. Only vellus body hair, which is below average for a half-elf, something he regularly laments as he really wishes he could grow facial hair. Prefers fashion of fine make, usually sporting something colorful and appropriately noble, but is actually pretty laid back about what he wears when alone.

Andrai Freetrider

Sturdy and athletic, standing at 5'11" (180cm) with a limber frame of corded muscle. He has deep golden brown skin with earthy undertones, bright gold eyes, and golden blond hair in voluminous, kinky corkscrews. Wears his hair natural and at shoulder length, typically swept to the right to reveal the designs shaved into his undercut. Will do protective styling for long treks or when traveling in unfamiliar areas, either didi braids or skinny box braids. He has a smattering of beauty spots, notably two beneath his right eye, one to the upper left of his lips, and one on the left of his chin. Has 12 piercings in his long, pointed ears (1 lower cartilage, 2 upper cartilage, 3 lobe x2) and exclusively wears simple small silver rings in all of them. Has the type of scars you'd expect from a ranger. Only vellus body hair, as is typical for an elf. His attire is appropriate for his lifestyle, typically consisting of earth tones and utilitarian leathers. However, there's notable artistry to much of it and often features delicate engravings, embroidery, and knotwork. By far the best-dressed ranger you'll ever meet.

[path-of-fire]

Okay, so, I found your game on the CoG forums and played the demo (loved it by the way!) So I came here to immediately follow you and try learning as much as I can about this thing from the post's.... But there are about a billion and I have a terrible attention span! So in the interest of staying in the loop, I was wondering if you could do a quick crash course on it? Important character's, RO's, and this dragon thing I'm hearing about? I just love this story! Thanks in advance if you do this!

Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m honored that you like Path of Fire, it truly warms my heart to hear that. And I would be honored to help you with getting caught back up :)

Important Characters [I will leave out the ROs, because they will be explained in their area]: 

Eamon- Eamon is the first person that you meet in the demo, and he is also the only other survivor of the massacre. Eamon is considered your guardian throughout the series, and to some MCs he can become your father. Of course, that all depends on how you interact with him. [I don’t know if I’ve ever told you guys what Eamon looks like, but I’ve changed it.] Eamon stands at 6’3” with a muscular build. He has blue-green eyes and dirty blonde hair and beard. All in all he’s very much a papa bear.

Alister- Alister is Aghadi’s nephew and he can become a fairly important part of your story. Though, like with Eamon, it all depends on how you interact with him. Alister is very bubbly with a sunshine disposition on life. You would more than likely see him with a smile on his face than a frown, and his life mission is to make others happy. Alister has beautiful dark blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He has his uncle’s complexion when in regards to his tan skin. 

Keane- Keane is Aghadi’s younger brother, and Alister’s father. Keane is a very angry person who hates Aghadi with his entire being. He doesn’t have a good relationship with his son, but Keane does love him. Be it in a very peculiar way, but he does love Alister. Part of the reason for Keane’s hatred for Aghadi is because of the loss of his second wife and unborn child. [He still visits their graves with Alister, and always gives them flowers to show that his love for them will always stay fresh. While Alister plays beside the grave, like he could never do with his unborn sibling.] Keane stands at 6’4” and has medium length mahogany colored hair. He also has dark green eyes that are always guarded. 

Daealla- Daealla is Aghadi’s older sister and the person he is closest to in his family. Daealla was sent away at a young age by her father, Merrick, because of reasons that neither her nor Aghadi want to get into. She is a very funny person, but more often than not her humor comes from remarks. [Like if the MC trips or something in front of her she would say something like “I think you missed a step” or “Your life is really going downhill, isn’t it?”] Daealla stands at 5’9'' and has a lithe build. She has glowing violet eyes with gold flecks. Her hair falls down in perfect waves to her shoulder blades the color of golden white. She has full lips and high cheekbones, with a fair complexion.

[All the other important characters you guys haven’t been introduced to yet. So I don’t want to spoil anything.]

Romantic Options:

Loreena- Loreena is the Knight Captain of the Imperial Army. She is a very loyal person and takes her duties very seriously. Loreena is tall at 6’0”, with shoulder length black hair and impassive hazel eyes. She has a tan complexion from all of her time in the sun.

Robin/Robyn- R is my take on Robin Hood with a little twist. R is a very mischievous person but they are also extremely loyal. They hold loyalty among their men at the highest degree. Especially since their men know their secret. Robin is tall at 6’4” with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw. His golden brown hair is of medium length and is kept in a ponytail. His golden brown eyes sparkle with mirth but a darker entity hides behind his easy smile. While Robyn stands at 5’10” with a more lithe build. Her golden brown hair falls down to her shoulder blades and is kept in a loose braid. Her golden brown eyes are quick to show emotion, but whether or not they’re truly what she feels? That’s for you to find out.

Edmund- Edmund is R’s second in command and the one that keeps everything in order. He is a very guarded individual, only letting the ones he cares for get passed his iron walls. Unlike R, Edmund is not one to trust someone right off the bat. He believes that you earn trust/respect. Edmund stands at 6’2” and has broad shoulders with a bulky build. His brown hair is kept short and his dark green eyes are well guarded. 

Esmé- Esmé is the leader of the Merchant’s Guild. She is a very crafty and charming person, but that doesn’t make her any less forthcoming. She is a very blunt person, but she tries her best to reign that in depending on who she is talking to. Esmé is 5’7” with long, wavy brown hair and steel colored eyes. Her full lips are normally pulled into a smile that usually has everyone else smiling. And because of her heritage Esmé does have wings, which are the color of a barn owls. 

Ayleth- Ayleth is a village mage. She is a very snarky and sarcastic person, who uses her words to deflect people’s attention. However, once you get past her steely exterior you’ll find a golden heart that wants nothing more than to be cherished and loved. Ayleth is 5’5” with long red hair and sparkling brown eyes. She has a fair complexion that seems to glow underneath the sunlight.

Cedric- Cedric is the youngest of all the ROs. However, he is the one that knows the MC the longest. He is the son of the village chief and a hopeful knight. Cedric is a very bashful person but under certain circumstances his bashfulness can be replaced by bravado. Cedric is 6’3” with blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. He is muscular but not as bulky as Edmund is. He has tan skin from all his time training in his yard. 

Caspian- He is the Imperial Spymaster. He was tasked to locate and identify the MC to bring them back to the capital for “execution” [that’s what the MC believes]. Caspian is a very vain and arrogant individual, he is also very secretive. However, as with most secrets, you can’t take them at face value. Caspian is 6’4” with medium length silver hair with pale blue eyes. He has a fairer complexion due to his Snow Elf ancestry. 

Aghadi- Aghadi is the Emperor of Ioria, and he is one of the last ROs you meet. He is a very kind man if not a little guarded. He cares about his people greatly and wants nothing more than the best for them. Aghadi is 6’6” with medium length golden white hair. He has obsidian black eyes with golden flecks throughout. He is a very muscular man from all his time training and exercising, which also has caused him to have tan skin. 

Phenir- Phenir is the God of the Dracaryean, and one of the creators of the universe. He is a very gentle person who always has a smile on his face. He is a tall being [still haven’t figured out his height yet], with sun kissed skin. He has golden-red eyes that shift depending on his mood. With fire colored hair, a mixture of red, yellow and orange. 

Revian- Revian is the Goddess of the Night, and is the other creator of the universe. She is a very stoic person that always keeps her emotions in check. Revian has long, wavy jet black hair and beautiful silver eyes. Revian has a fairer complexion than her brother, Phenir. 

-Note that Revian and Phenir are the Gods of many more things… These are just the main ones. 

Below are some finished art pieces of the ROs (only Caspian and Ayleth so far).

Dragon Thing: 

I actually don’t know what dragon thing you’re talking about. Though I’m going to guess and say you mean the hoarding thing. Which devolves into the fact that the Dracaryean have classic draconic tendencies. Like hoarding for instance… like the large piles of gold [and the like]. This will be explored more in the game, but I think that’s what you mean. 

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Female Orc x Plus Sized Female Reader (plot-driven NSFW)

Humans and Houses is the magic universe analog of Dungeons and Dragons.  This little group of orcs wintering at an outpost on the border of their lands has been playing since they were in the academy together, what happens when they manage to summon a human by mistake in a world where humans don’t exist except for in stories?

This is a long, long story with some NSFW to it.  This is 100% self indulgent romance and comedy borderline crackfic.

“I would like to roll to see if I can guess the password on the device, this comp-tar is no match for my tech prowess!”  Balzol looked over at Rokal, who considered and then nodded. The clattering of bone dice followed.  “19” he grinned, tusks flashing, and Rokal chuckled.

“You find a scrap of paper posted on the side of the desk, it has some letters and numbers written on it, trying that you’re pleased to see it works giving you access to the information contained within.”  Balzol looks pleased with himself, and the rest of the group at the table cheers him on.  

Rokal had been running this group of Humans and Houses for a few years now with other orcs in her barracks at the stronghold, although this would be the third crop of characters, this new workplace setting was proving very interesting, much more intrigue and political backstabbing.  They were running the university setting, at the request of Shokk, and having quite a good time doing it.  

She waits for the noise to die down before moving on, consulting her notes and the new DM guide for this expansion.  “You open up a document labeled ‘Second Semester Lesson Plan’ hoping to find some information that would allow you to outdo Jamison at the meeting coming up at the end of the week with the department.  You find some class information but, moving further down the document, it seems as though it devolves into a recipe for a human love potion and a desire for a particular librarian at the university to notice him-” Rokal snorts in amusement, and writes out the recipe for the potion before giving it to the team.

Shokk scoffed, the healer of their group who had been trained in magic.  “That wouldn’t even work!  Stupid humans, love potions aren’t real, just mind control.  Besides that this ritual wouldn’t even do anything, look.”  The ingredients listed were common, and within a few minutes the laughing group is crowded around a small earthen bowl over a candle flame, dropping in the oils and herbs, Shokk gestured to Rokal.  “You, oh fearless leader, should do the honors.”  Rokal snorted in amusement and shoved the smaller Orc before standing over the pot and drawing in chalk the symbols pictured in the book.  

Grabbing up the dried flower she grinds it between thick fingers into the pot, slowly chanting “by rose, by myrrh, by candlelight, my love will come to me tonight.”  Repeating the chant again she sprinkles in the myrrh, and at the third repetition she carefully takes the beeswax candle and ignites the contents of the pot.  The smoke is fragrant and heady, but nothing happens, making the Orcs break out in laughter anew until a bright flash of light is accompanied by a snap that sounds like a cracking whip, and when the light fades there’s a small body on the floor.

You, meanwhile, had graduated with your librarianship degree and were beyond thankful that you had been offered employment within the university post-graduation.  It wasn’t a high paying job, but the cost of living in the area of the university was fairly low, and the benefits were nothing to stick your nose up at.  The only thing was the crippling loneliness.  Being gay in a small town is never quite fun, even one as progressive as the little town your university was located in.  The majority of other women passing through who might be interested were undergraduates, far too young for you, and the gay scene in this place was so incestuous you couldn’t date after breaking up with your latest girlfriend.  

Sighing you tapped languidly at the computer keyboard in front of you, debating whether to get up from the circulation desk for another coffee.  With a shake of your head you pull out your knitting instead, finding the repetition of stitches comforting and distracting from the pull of the coffee machine at least until it’s actually your break time.  You vaguely register the smell of roses and smoke before it feels like you’re sucked through a straw, twisted inside out, and then dumped unceremoniously onto a roughly hewn wooden floor, your bag skittering to a stop at the boot-clad feet of a stranger.  

With a whimper you push yourself up some, blinking against the dizziness.  As you come to your senses you look around, this looks like no place on campus you’ve ever been before.  Large wooden bunks line one long wall of the room, with a large fire on the opposite wall in a stone hearth.  You just begin to register voices, but they’re speaking a language you’ve never heard before, something rough sounding almost like german maybe?  But it definitely wasn’t.  Looking up the legs of the person in front of you you’re surprised to find green, maybe stockings?  A leather skirt, interesting choice, with a skull belt?  Very hot, and those abs, leading up to small muscular breasts and broad shoulders.  The green skin was interesting, leading up to the face of what looks like an orc, if your nights of Warcraft as a teen taught you anything, and it’s at that point you promptly pass out.

Rokal gapes at the form on the floor as they collapse back down again.  What in the actual hells just happened?!  Shokk thankfully had more of his wits about him, crouching beside the figure and rolling them onto their back, their soft face slack in sleep.  Rokal actually thinks you’re quite pretty, you look so soft and gentle compared to the warriors she has spent her years around.  Bending down she picks up the bag that came to a stop at her boots, smiling a little tenderly at the knitting project she finds attached to the ball of yarn inside it.  You reminded her briefly of her mother, she couldn’t deny feeling that kind of comfortable warmth inside her at the sight of you.  It was somehow different though, spicier.  She shook her head, gathering up the knitting and carefully placing it behind her GM screen on the table.

“She’s got round ears…” Shokk is mumbling to himself as he checks the girl over, eyes wide and hands shaking.  “Rok, she has round ears, she isn’t an elf, or a dwarf, or a goblin, there’s no fae magic here, no disguises or tricks.  Rok...Rok I don’t think she’s supposed to be here.”  His voice is a frantic and thin whisper by the end, and Rokal has dropped to her knees beside the healer to try and calm him down.  Her hands are on his shoulders as she looks into his eyes, making him breathe with her.

“Shokk, Shokk you need to relax, we’ll figure this out…”  Rokal looks down at you.  To her eyes, your clothing is strange, and with a cautious glance over at the table she is coming to a sinking conclusion that you look strikingly like the characters printed on her screen.  A human...you look like a human.  Now she’s the one trying to keep it together, at least visibly more poised than Shokk was.  “What the fuck…”  She picks you up off of the floor, cradling you against her chest and trying not to focus on the way your soft body molded against hers.  She brought you to her own bunk, laying you on the sheets and tugging up the wool blanket that had been crumpled at the foot of the mattress.  She strokes your cheek with one knuckle, staring down at you with intense searching eyes.  

You stir at the stroking of your cheek, pressing up on your palms you blink your eyes open blearily.  Rokal drops her hand, stepping back as you tilt your head cutely, looking confused as a newborn kitten.  “What the fuck.  What the fuck, did someone drug my fucking coffee?”  You lean forward heavily and stare at your hands before you stare up at the group of what look like FUCKING ORCS standing around a table laughing at your outburst.  When a throat clears beside you your head whips around to come face to abs with a tall, muscular orc woman.  Or you assumed she was a woman, considering the binder over her chest that the others were lacking.  “Oh holy shit, I’m definitely hallucinating, there’s no way anything but my imagination could make such a gorgeous woman.  Christ, I need to get laid.”  The group of orcs in the background laughs louder, yelling something out in that rough language you heard earlier before Rokal makes what you assume is a rude gesture in their culture and their laughing crescendos but they stop the comments.  

Rokal is dark with embarrassment, thankful that it seems like you cannot understand their language although she’s sure you’re smart enough to figure out in context they were quite crass.  She’s also thankful you seem to speak common so at least she can communicate, although your accent is odd and some of your words are...confusing.  “Hello there, little one…”  you blush darkly and give her a halfhearted scowl, offering up your name which makes her smile soften.  You look like an angry kitten, it’s too cute.  She repeats her greeting with your name this time, and you smile.  “My name is Rokal, you are in Ecrad at our outpost at the Western border with the nation of Othar.  Tell me, where are you from?”

You look confused, you supposed your brain was an odd thing inventing all of this out of thin air.  You never thought of yourself as much of a prose writer, but perhaps being surrounded by books for the last several years had rubbed off on you even a little bit through osmosis.  You try to explain to Rokal where you’re from, but she only gives you a blank and confused look when you name your home city.  You grab your bag and are thankful you keep your small wallet with ID and a bit of cash in alongside your knitting, knowing that you never leave without it.  With shaky hands you pass over the leather fold, and it looks tiny in her grip as she carefully examines it.  “You are...human?”  She sounds wondering, a tremor in her voice that is either fearful or hopeful, maybe even reverential?  When you nod and give her a look as if to say ‘what else would I be?’ she shakes her head, looking at you wide eyed as she drops your ID.  “Not possible.  You aren’t real, you aren’t supposed to exist.”  She reaches out with an outstretched finger and pokes the soft flesh of your upper arm, as if to make sure you are in fact corporeal.  She looks over at the group of orcs helplessly before looking back at you with the same huge puppy-dog eyes in a startling shade of pure onyx.

You want to reach out to comfort her, but before you can make a move she turns and slumps onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily next to you.  The weight of her dips the bed and makes you slide until you’re pressed up against her back.  You can’t move though, it seems as though the mattress has swallowed you whole and you’re just stuck between the soft feather bed and her broad strong back.  It would be comforting if it wasn’t so embarrassing.  

Rokal rests her elbows on her thighs, rubbing her palms over her face before raking her hands through her mohawk.  A human, a real human, warm blood and flesh pressed up against her back right now, and existing in this universe.  What the fuck were they supposed to do about this?!  Rokal couldn’t very well get her home, and even Shokk with his knowledge of magic would be no use, as he focused on healing and strengthening their unit.  It would be weeks or months until the passes would be clear from winter, they were stuck on the winter rotation on the border this year, snowed in just the group of them making sure that the border was secure until another crew would come to to relieve them in spring.  Some weeks the weather was clear enough to allow them to trudge to the small village a little over a mile away to stock up on some supplies and even leisure items, like their Humans and Houses game, but there was no one there with a deep enough knowledge of the magical arts to help get this human back to wherever they are from.  

The border was secure, peace had been struck between Ecrad and Othar over a century ago and the only things they caught were the occasional animal wandering through the wood without any care for the borders of lands, and the occasional patrol from Othar passing by to share gossip and news.  So the border was secure but that still doesn’t explain how the fuck there is a cute soft human lying in her bunk, emphasis on human.  The boys gathered around sitting across from her on Shokk’s similarly unmade bed or pulling up chairs from the table.  Gurukk, another of the orcs in her company, chuckled, his grey-green skin looking strangely pallid.  “Well this is a fucking mess.”  His voice is a low grumble, but at least he speaks in common, following in Rokal’s lead.  “We’re stuck here until spring, and the first snow was only last week…”  He voices the internal struggle Rokal was having, and Shokk chimes in.

“I have no idea how she even got here, let alone how to get her back.  It will be months until the mountain passes are clear enough to get her to Mama Rena, and she’s the only one who could do anything to help I think.”  Shokk spoke often of his mentor, a stern half orc half elf he called Mama Rena who lived on the outskirts of the settlement he grew up in.  She was brilliant with magic, naturally talented in a way that is impossible to teach or train.  She was not one to take students, but Shokk couldn’t seem to get rid of her, even before he decided he wanted to study healing magic the strange old woman would simply force her presence on him.  Especially infuriating was the fact that his parents encouraged her behavior, knowing the honor for what it was.  

You struggled, flailing slightly and feeling for all intents and purposes like a child while surrounded by this group of giants.  Finally though you managed to right yourself, scooting up to the side of the mattress and sitting next to Rokal, looking out at this group of orcs.  Everyone introduced themselves, the one who couldn’t speak common introduced by other members of the company.  You still found your eyes constantly drawn to Rokal though, it’s as if someone took your ideal of a woman and made it big and green with tusks (all of which was a bonus, if anyone wanted to ask you).  Tall and broad, sitting next to each other the top of your head only just reached the bottom of her chest binder, with thick muscular arms and a firm stomach, small muscular breasts, and thighs that could crush your head if she let you between them.  You wanted to worship every inch of her mossy skin, watch this beautiful creature come undone for you, and then maybe selfishly get pinned down and absolutely ravished by her in return.  You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice you’ve begun openly staring at the orc woman, only drawn out of it when Gurukk says something to Rokal in Orcish with a teasing tone that makes her cheeks darken and she bares her tusks and growls in his direction.  It would be intimidating to be on the receiving end of that, you’re sure, but Gurukk just laughs and turns his face to you with a soft smile, or at least as soft a smile as an orc mouth can manage with tusks as large as his.  

“You are welcome here, tiny human, we will keep you safe until we can return you to your world.  Tell us, what is human society really like?  Is there really no magic?  Are there no other races in your world?”  The five orcs are looking at you with wide, sparkling eyes as though they’re sitting for story time like the kids from your internship at the children’s library.  It makes you laugh, and the orcs look surprised at how gentle the sound is compared to their own.  It isn’t as bell-like as an elf or as bellyful as an orc, it’s sweet though and they’re all a little enamored by it, especially Rokal as she stares down at you with some wonderment.

“Well, no, there’s no magic where I come from.  At least, I would have said that until I wound up here somehow.  I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a drug-induced hallucination.”  You giggle, and a few of the orcs snort out a laugh.  “Magic is kind of a concept where I’m from, but we consider it a myth.  It’s a story you tell children, but no one in my world is capable of using or acting on it, and even if they are they’re laughed at and derided as charlatans.”  Shokk looks aghast, like he can’t even fathom a world where that was a possibility let alone a reality.  

“But...but anyone can learn magic if they practice hard enough!”  Shokk speaks up, trying to impress this upon you.  “Seriously!  Some are more adept than others, but literally anyone can learn basic conjuration at the very least.”  He looks confused, and you suppose for a moment that it’s like telling someone that where you come from nobody has ever heard of or is capable of performing some other basic fundamental like math or reading.  Yes some people have more difficulty than others, and never progress past a basic understanding or cannot do it because of neurotyping or lack of exposure to education, but to believe that it is fake?  You’d never be able to wrap your mind around that.  You’re forced to shake your head no, looking at him a little sheepishly.

“No, no magic I’m afraid.  At least not that we can access in any meaningful way.  I wonder if it’s something that humans are incapable of, or if it’s just that the world where I come from has no magic or weak magic…”  You trail off, contemplating for a moment before Balzol snaps you out of it, asking again if there are no other races where you come from that might access magic. “No, our definition of race in my world revolves around skin tone.  We are all humans, but we organize based on how dark or pale our skin is, and for a long time we have fought one another based on whose skin tone is superior.  Many like to say we’re past that now, and that equality has been achieved, but that is just not true.  One subset of the populace is imprisoned at such a significantly higher rate because of systemic oppression and lack of opportunity, but many people in charge simply say it’s because their race makes them more violent or prone to crime.  It’s depressing.”  You feel a little embarrassed about the rant you’ve gone on, but the orcs looks offended on your behalf as well.  

“Orcs are used to such treatment as well, it is why we have isolated ourselves for so long, because other races like to believe that we are more violent and savage simply because we are good warriors.  We are treated as if we are stupid just because we are big and strong, and outside of our strongholds and settlements there are many paths barred to orcs because of other prejudiced beings.  We promise little human not to underestimate you, or treat you as lesser simply because you are so cute and tiny.”  Balzol has done what he set out to do and made you laugh and smile at the last sentence, bringing a smile back to your face instead of the grimace you were wearing discussing your world’s culture.  You shake your head giggling.

“Maybe compared to you lot!  Back home though, I’m considered quite big.”  You gesture at your belly and chubby thighs, kicking out your legs a bit.  “It would be more difficult if I were trying to date men I think, other queer women tend to be more forgiving of different body types.”  You shrug and then notice the stare that Rokal has fixed you with, blushing a little self consciously.  You’re so used to being proudly out in your world that you didn’t even stop to consider whether or not same sex relationships were acceptable in this one.  You couldn’t be sure if orcish society here was the same as it was in the fiction of your universe, open and accepting of those who were true to their emotions and experiences, unabashedly themselves.  “Are those sorts of relationships not acceptable in your world?”  You glance out shyly at the rest of the orcs and find them fixing you with silly grins.  

“Oh, no, not at all, you are attracted to who you are attracted to, there is no shame in loving anyone.”  Balzol smiles wider, and you think an outsider would find you absolutely insane for not being intimidated by his huge tusks and glinting piercings, but you think he looks like a big overexcited puppy.  “You know, our Rokal is the same as you...many find her too big for an orc female.  It makes her quite good at what she has chosen to do though, there is no shame in living in your body.”  Rokal glances down at you a little sheepishly to find you beaming up at her, your little face tilted up and filled with open affection.  

You stare at each other for a moment, and you take in the scars on her face, one bisecting her left eyebrow and a thick one that just pulls the right corner of her mouth down going from her cheek down to her chin.  She’s missing a chunk of one ear, it looks like a bite was taken out of it, and on either side of the wound she’s placed a shiny silver cuff.  Her other ear is studded with piercings of silver and bone from the lobe all the way up to the pointed tip, a few of them dangling and clinking together when she moved.  Her hair is in a mohawk, braided to the scalp and then loose down her back, keeping the hair out of her face but leaving room for traditional beads and feathers marking her achievements.  She has intricately embellished rings around each tusk, and you think you noticed the glint of a stud through her tongue.

The two of you are blatantly eye-fucking each other, and you forget for a second that there are others there with you as you take in this huge, beautiful woman.  Your mouth runs away from you, “I don’t think you’re too big, I think you’re gorgeous.”  Your face burns as you suddenly remember that there are other people there when one of them snorts.  You desperately wish you could shove the words back in your throat but sadly that isn’t possible.  Rokal smirks at you though, seemingly unphased by your embarrassment.  

“Well I can say the same of you, little one.”  She almost purrs at you, and you forget how to breathe.  She’s flirting.  With you.  She’s flirting with you.  Oh god what do you do?  So you opt to stare up at her, blushing and with slightly parted lips, and she laughs deeply.  One of her thick arms snakes around your waist, her big hand sitting on your hip and squeezing slightly as she turns back to the rest of the orcs.  “So you keep your grubby hands off, she isn’t interested in brutes like you.”

“Yeah, she’s interested in brutes like you!”  Gurukk’s retort makes you giggle and lean into Rokal’s side, turning your head slightly to hide your blush.  He isn’t wrong, after all.  She laughs as well, bright and happy and loud, pulling you closer so your soft thigh is pressed right up against her muscular one.  

“And don’t you forget it!”  Rokal’s grin is happy, and it’s nice to see her comfortable and less worried.  She looks in her element, and it makes you swoon a little more.  This confident, brash orc woman was juuuust your type.  “Now, little one, would you like to watch us play our game?  We were playing Houses and Humans when we managed to summon you here, I’d like to know what you think of it.”  Her smile is no less big, but seems gentler when she looks down at you.  You nod wordlessly and her smile turns to a smirk as she thumbs your chin affectionately.  “Well I am afraid we only have enough chairs for our group, so you’ll have to sit on my lap...unless you’d rather sit with one of the boys.”  Your blush returns tenfold, but you smile up at her just a little shyly and shuffle even closer.

Rokal laughs and lifts you up from beside her before standing in one fluid motion.  You giggle and cling to her, your arms doing their best to wrap around her broad shoulders and neck.  When she settles back down at the table behind her screen you’re struck by how much this looks like a game of Dungeons and Dragons, and you comment on it.  You explain D&D, and they laugh, admitting that it does in fact sound similar.  You pretend to be magic beings, strong warriors, and cunning rogues, but they live in a world where that is their daily existence so they pretend to be mundane, living in a world where they have to get by on just their cunning, intelligence, and smarts - street or book.

She hands you back your bag of knitting, and you’re thankful to have not dropped any stitches by your count while the rest of the crew get settled back at their spots, refilling mugs of mead and bringing out dried meat and cheese.  Rokal feeds you from her portion, making sure that you have had your fill before eating the rest, her rations are plenty big to feed her tiny little human without depriving herself of nutrients she assured you, and you couldn’t help the way your heart stuttered when she called you hers.  

You watch their game curiously while knitting, curled up in Rokal’s lap feeling warm and happy.  You eventually fall asleep curled up against her stomach, the soothing rhythm of her breath and the occasional rumble of her laugh lulling you into darkness.  You are asleep when your arm wraps possessively around her waist while your head nuzzles into the tender skin just beneath her binder.  She stills, freezing and looking down at you.  The boys roar into laughter briefly before she shushes them with a bare of her teeth while gesturing down at you.  They don’t quiet down too much, but keep it to a dull rumble instead of an all out riot.  One of her hands pets through your hair, smiling gently as you bury your head further into her.  This is what she had been missing, what she has needed her whole life.  Someone to protect and care for, someone open and loving who will cherish her as much as she cherishes them.  This little human was a surprise, but certainly a welcome one.  Even if she only got to be with you for a short time, she would cherish and make the most of it.  

It is late into the night when they finally stop.  The blizzard raging outside means that they will not be patrolling until the weather lets up some.  Rokal stands and cradles you in her arms, smiling at the way your face pushes against her neck, searching for her scent and warmth.  You seem in tune with your nature, something orcs valued, and your nature seemed very in tune with her own.  Without too much thought she sits on her bed, laying you out underneath her sheets and blanket before sliding in next to you.  She can’t help the happy sigh she lets out when you curl into her side as if looking for her, one of your thick thighs slung over her leg.  Her fingers card through your hair, sending up a thankful prayer to whatever forces brought you here.

You wake in the middle of the night to something caressing your ample breast and teasing over your puckering nipple.  With a soft whimper you buck against whatever is between your thighs that feels so hot and firm.  Your memories flood back to you, waking up in a world with orcs, and when you realize you’re definitely not hallucinating this time you still.  Glancing up you can see that Rokal is asleep, one of her arms keeping you tucked firmly against her side where your full length is cuddled up along her torso, her other arm slung across her stomach and her hand unconsciously fondling your breast.  

You gasp when her clever fingers pinch your nipple, moving your hips against her thigh again to press your panty-covered mound against her muscles.  She shifts in her sleep, dragging you further up her body as her grip tightens, your core now pressed right into the thick protrusion of her hip bone.  Rokal seems to stir at the heat of you against her, and the softness of your breasts dragging over her flesh.  She squeezes slightly, making you squeak as it digs your crotch deeper into her hip.  Her hips buck in return, the hand on your breast groping as she moans lightly, waking from sleep slowly.  Her bright eyes lock with yours as you gaze up at her, pupils already blown with lust from her unconscious stimulation.  She smiles down at you, sultry and predatory, her movements becoming conscious as she grinds up against your obvious arousal, feeling the soft flesh of your labia press enticingly against her hard hip bone.  You bite your lower lip firmly, trying to keep the whimper in your throat from escaping and failing.  She chuckles.  “Don’t worry little one, they sleep like the dead, and besides, there is no shame in bringing pleasure to your lover.”  Her hands move down to your hips, dragging you to straddle her abs.  

Rokal smiles down the length of her body as she strips off your dress to reveal your bra and panties.  Her hands squeeze the flesh of your belly and migrate up to grope your breasts.  She tries to remove the garment and you giggle at her attempts to pull it off of you before you reach behind yourself and undo it for her.  It’s her turn to gape at you as she sees your breasts for the first time.  You’d usually be self conscious of their sag, and your stretch marks, but she looks at you with such wonder, her hand trembling slightly as she reaches up to caress one gently with her calloused and scarred fingers.  She hauls you further up her body as she pulls your face down to hers.  Your first kiss is heated and passionate, but with an underlying sweet loving wonderment, as if she’s pouring everything she’s felt from the moment she saw you until now into this kiss.  Her tusks press firmly against your chubby cheeks but don’t poke you at all, you let out a pleased sigh when her tongue slips out from between her lips to push between your own.  You were right, she does have a tongue piercing, and when you playfully tug on it with your teeth she growls at you and presses your hips down harder against the hard plane of her abs.  

She swallows your whimper, instead moving your hips and flexing her muscles to slowly stimulate your clit.  She gives a husky chuckle when your panties begin to soak through, sticking to your flesh and leaving a trail of your essence shining her skin like an emerald in the dim light of the banked fire.  You let out a surprised squeal when she moves you up her body again like it’s nothing, straddling your plush thighs around her head while she hooks one tusk through your panties, shredding them away and off your body to flutter onto her chest.  She’s panting, chest heaving, as she stares awed at your flesh, the curly hair of your mound glistening with your arousal, lips slightly parted to reveal deep pink flesh within.  “You’re so beautiful, my love.”  The endearment rolls off her tongue so effortlessly, and sounds so right, you can’t correct her.  You think you love her too.  Her calloused hands smooth up the inside of your soft thighs, gripping up at the top of your thighs and using her thumbs to spread the outer labia of your sex.  Your whimper of ‘Rokal’ just makes her give a sultry laugh.  “Don’t worry, little one, I’ve got you.”

Your hand clamps over your mouth at the first contact her tongue makes with your flesh, despite her assurances that the others slept like the dead you really didn’t want them to see you like this, pinned against the face of your lover.  The desperate moan she gives you sizzles along your nerves frying your brain.  Her tusks are warm and firm pressed against the inside of your labia, and you find yourself marveling for a moment how they hold you open for her as her hands stroke up to grasp your ass, kneading and pulling you firmly against her mouth.  Her tongue pushes up into you as her broad flat nose nudges against your clit.  You whimper, thighs twitching in pleasure as she presses and angles her tongue just right to push the stud through her tongue on your g-spot.  You whimper her name again and she chuckles huskily before pulling away and licking her lips.  “You taste so sweet, is this all for me?”  Your shy whimper is enough of an answer and she chuckles again.  “I wonder what kind of noises I can get you to make…”

Rokal sits up some, taking you with her.  You’re flipped upside down, your head and upper back resting on her stomach as her legs are held out in front of her.  Your legs are folded back, knees close to your shoulders as she pushes your thighs up, pinning you open completely for her and making it so you can’t move.  She hold you in that position with one arm, and you’ve never felt more helpless or turned on.  “R-Rokal…”  You whimper, you don’t know what you’re asking for but she gives you a comforting pat on the rear.  

“Shhh little one, Rok’s got you, don’t worry…”  You gasp as her free hand firmly smooths up your ass and the back of your thigh, thumb pulling at the lips of your sex again.  She parts you with her middle and forefinger, exposing you to her intense gaze.  She chuckles, leaning down to lick a stripe from your asshole up to your clit, making you choke out a whimper.  She probes her thick middle finger against your hole, circling teasingly with the rough pad of her fingertip before plunging all the way inside you.  The needy moan you let out makes her chuckle, and the only movement from the others is a louder snore from one before it evens out again.  

“I liked that one.”  She draws your attention back to her, slowly pistoning her middle finger in and out of you.  With her eyes locked with yours she presses a second finger into you, crooking them slightly and moving faster.  You let out another moan, raising in pitch as her fingers find that spot inside you that makes your inner thighs twitch.  Her chuckle is raspier, voice thick with arousal, you wish you could squirm but all you can do is curl your toes and grip your hands into fists.  “Such a good girl for me, so good, you can take one more yeah?”  You don’t think you can, but you don’t want to disappoint Rokal, so you nod a little and whimper as she slowly fits a third thick finger inside you.  

It only takes a minute for you to be a drooling, whimpering mess pinned into submission by this giant muscular goddess while three of her impossibly thick fingers piston themselves in and out of your weeping pussy.  The choked gasp that precedes your orgasm is a noise you don’t think you’ve ever made before, Rokal just smirks at you knowingly moving even just a little faster and deeper as you begin to spasm around her.  You let out a wail of pleasure, and she coos your name affectionately as she starts to slow, working you through the last of your orgasm and wringing every drop of pleasure she possibly could from you.  

Rokal releases you, arranging you over her lap with your head against her chest again, dropping kisses all along your hair and face, murmuring affectionate praises of you as you wither against her, spent with pleasure.  Your arms are still slightly shaking with effort as you wrap them around her waist, burrowing into her heat.  You want to return the favor, but you aren’t sure you can even keep your eyes open.  It isn’t even a minute after that when you fall asleep again, making Rokal chuckle affectionately and kiss the crown of your head.  Perhaps over the coming months she could convince you to stay…

Waking the next morning is a much less sensual affair, although you are embarrassed by your nudity at the very least you’re beneath a wool blanket and no one else has to know.  Rokal’s hand skates affectionately up her back, the scratch of her callouses a pleasant contrast against your soft skin.  “Good morning my love.”  The endearment falls from your lips unthinkingly, and when you move to blush and turn away Rokal stills you with a hand on your cheek and beams down at you before kissing you fully on the lips.  This kiss is less passionate than last night’s, but no less warm and loving.  The wolf whistle beside you makes her lift her hand in a rude gesture and pull back slightly, growling something in Orcish.  

While you didn’t love not understanding what she was saying, you’d be lying if you said hearing her speak that the guttural language didn’t turn you on a little bit. She gives you another chaste kiss before crawling out of bed, thankfully distracting the others for long enough that you can put on your bra and the tunic she’s lent you, that’s more like a dress on you.  It at least comes down to your knees, and though it hangs bare off one shoulder due to the wide neck, it’s warm and smells like Rokal.  

The day passes lazily, with some food and cards, exchanging stories, and Shokk showing off some basic conjuring used to impress young children.  The others find it funny that you’re so enthralled, but Rokal just uses her limited knowledge of magic to produce you a pretty flower and the way you giggle and blush up at her makes her thankful that this doesn’t exist in your world.  This is something she can give you that no one else can, at least no one from your universe.  Perhaps it can be a reason to stay.  

It’s three weeks of isolation in the cabin before the blizzard has stopped and the weather cleared enough that the party can patrol.  You’re left on your own for the first time since you got here, and find yourself lonely without Rokal.  And the others, you hastily tack on, Rokal and the others.  But you know you’re lying to yourself.  You love that big gruff orc, her cute smiles, the way her cheeks turn a dark emerald when she blushes, those lingering sultry looks, her goofy laugh, the way she tells stories, you could make a list for days.  But This wasn’t your world, and you knew it would be too much to hope that she might want you to stay once winter was over and they headed back to their stronghold after finishing their tour.  

You’ve managed to work yourself up into quite a tizzy when the door to the large cabin slams open and Rokal comes in calling out your name in a sing-song lilt.  You’re confused to find her alone, and give her a puzzled look as she sweeps in to pull you up into a full kiss, one hand under your thighs holding you up while the other cups your cheek lovingly.  You melt into her, relaxing under her careful ministrations.  She pulls back and smiles at you, full of open affection.  “I have something I must ask you, little one, and something I must tell you.”  She places you down and cages your face between both of her large hands.  You’d be worried if her smile wasn’t so bright and her eyes so full of obvious warmth.  “I love you, I have since you landed on the floor of this cabin, and I would like for you to be my mate.  I will protect you, provide for you, I will love you for the rest of our days together.  Will you stay?”

Rokal is worried momentarily at the tears in your eyes, but when you launch yourself at her, sniffling and murmuring yes over and over again, she laughs heartily and scoops you up, spinning you in a circle.  “Does that mean you’re my wife?”  You giggle up at her, placing your own hands on either of her cheeks, smiling up with sparkling tear-filled eyes.  She nods, giving you a roguish grin.  

“Although, my little mate, we have to make it official…”  The hungry look she’s giving you fills you with need and you’re looking forward to finally being able to touch her as she has you.  Every time you’ve tried she’s told you that your noises are cute and small, but hers are too loud for shared quarters.  You’d pout up at her, trying to argue, but you weren’t about to do something she didn’t want and so you let it be.  “The boys are all going to spend the night in the village at the tavern, I told them I planned to propose.”  She’s got an excited grin on her face but she’s a bit embarrassed.  You’re touched by her care, and the fact that she wanted you to be someplace you felt comfortable instead of simply whisking the two of you to the village and letting them all sleep in their usual bunks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Rokal’s hands trailing up your thighs and pushing underneath the tunic of hers you’d thrown on today.  You’d asked her once why she had them if she never wore them, and she just laughed at you saying they’re to go under her armor when she goes out on patrol or to battle, more to protect her armor from her skin than to protect her skin from the armor.  Her hands make quick work of the garment, leaving you bare before her.  She groans happily and kneels in front of you reverently, her face in line with your chest as you stand.  She nuzzles her face into your breasts, hands pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach, and you giggle.  “Rokal, my love, will you let me touch you?”  You tilt her face up towards you with your little hands, staring down at her with such love and devotion.  

Her answering smile is filled with heat and she turns to kiss your palm before standing before you.  Stepping back slightly she pulls off her leather armor, leaving her in tight leggings and a loose tunic that looks just like the one she pulled off of you.  The tunic comes off and you can see her usual leather bindings, the small loincloth when she tugs off her leggings though is a surprise, and you can’t help but admire the way it lays over the jut of her hip bones, the flat of her pubic bone leading up to her abs, you were going to be married to a literal goddess.  She wants to tease you, but instead of words Rokal simply untucks the end of her chest bindings and lets the leather unravel onto the floor.

Her breasts are small and pert atop muscular pecs, still soft and feminine but they fit the rest of her figure.  Her nipples are a dark green and puckered enticingly, begging for your lips, and who are you to deny them?  Without preamble you step forwards, placing a kiss to the center of her chest before trailing your soft lips over to one breast.  You take her nipple between your lips, sucking gently and teasing it with your tongue, and she lets out a low rumbling moan of your name.  Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging you closer to her breast.  You moan against her flesh in answer, sucking on her nipple slightly more firmly and lashing across it with your clever little tongue.  You move to take the other in your mouth, lifting a hand to tease and caress the nipple you just released.  The words leaving her lips are in Orcish but they sound like pleas and praises to your ears, walking her back to the table you push her slightly until she’s sitting on the edge, long muscular legs splayed in front of her while she leans back onto her palms.

She grins wickedly at your open stare, flexing and posing for you as you ogle.  “Do you see something you like, little mate?”  You bite your lower lip, nodding as you walk up to her.  You kiss down the center of her chest and down her abs, your hands massaging and caressing up the inside of firm thighs before your head and hands meet between her legs.  You undo her loincloth without trouble, revealing the puffy outer labia of her emerald green sex, covered in thick dark hair glistening with drops of her arousal.  You dive in like a woman starved, and the triumphant yell she lets out is definite proof of why she hadn’t let you do this sooner.  

You find her clit, larger than you’re used to but it simply gives you more to work with.  Your lips close over it softly as you gently press against it with your tongue, but the way Rokal’s fingers tighten in your hair and she growls at you tell you to go harder.  You up the suction of your mouth, slowly increasing until you reach a point where she starts rutting her hips against your face.  You lash your tongue over the head of her clit, using first two and then three fingers to push into her.  “More!”  Her cry is wanton, just audible above the grunts and moans she keeps letting out as she fucks her clit into your mouth.  You press in a fourth finger and she glares down at you “I said more, mate.”  You angle your thumb to slide in as well and begin pumping in and out to the wrist.  She let out a long, loud groan of approval as you fist her, continuing to rut her clit into your suctioning mouth against your lapping tongue.  

It only takes a moment of all of this stimulation for her to release all over your face, squirting so much that it soaks your arm and down your front.  You don’t stop, milking her orgasm for all it is worth, and as long as she continues moving you do too.  After her first orgasm she reaches a second quickly, not squirting this time but still clenching around your hand and screaming your name to the gods along with your praises of how she loves you.  

She’s a panting mess leaning back against the table while you step back, giggling up at her a little proud of your handiwork.  You made this beautiful, strong warrior into a puddle of melting, feminine goo.  It takes her a moment to compose herself and once she catches her breath she stares at you with with a lewd gaze, licking her lips suggestively.  “Oh my little mate, you are in such trouble.”  She chuckles and you bolt, making her laugh.  You barely make it four steps before she’s caught you in her grip and forced you face down onto her bunk.  

“My beautiful wife…”  She hums against your neck, nuzzling your skin while being careful with her tusks.  The feeling of her nude body next to yours is better than you ever dreamed.  No leather edges or cold spots, just warm scarred skin and heat.  She hikes your hips up and keeps your shoulders pressed against the blanket, forcing your back to arch and exposing your heated sex.  Normally she loves going down on you, teasing you until you’re a whimpering begging mess.  But today she shoves two of her thick fingers into your waiting channel, knowing this is all she needs to do to make you hers forever.

“Rokal, I love you so much…”  Your answering whimper makes her hum against your skin and drop a soft kiss, murmuring her own endearments in Orcish.  She’s gentler than normal, but still lets you know who’s in control, using three of her fingers to bring you to your peak.  You think you’re going to get rest but she merely pins your legs in place with one of her own and continues pumping her fingers into you.  Your second orgasm surprises you, coming so quickly after the first, and that’s when she begins using her thumb to rub your clit.  Her stimulation is gentle but still too much, and you try to wriggle your hips and relieve the pressure.  She shushes you, kissing your neck and cheek, but keeping you pinned as she continues fucking you with her thick green fingers.  

Your third orgasm has you screaming and hoarsely begging, it’s too much, but she just chuckles.  “You can give me one more my love, come, it is my job on our wedding night to pleasure you as much as you can handle.”  Your pained whimper makes her chuckle again and speed up just slightly.  The incessant fingers inside you and on your clit make you come apart one more time as she kisses your neck and spine, whispering praises against your flesh.  “So good for me, my mate, so beautiful.  I promise you a long life of this.”  You whimper, a boneless heap on the bed.  She pulls you onto her, resting your head on her breast and cradling you against her body as you lay fully atop her.

“I love you.”  Your tired mumble makes her smile and pet your hair, her hands are smoothing over your body, careful not to touch anywhere too sensitive, soothing and relaxing you into sleep.  When you awake after your nap you’re alone in bed, but Rokal has dragged out a huge wooden tub and is boiling some water over the fire to make a bath for the two of you.  Her muscular naked back contracts as she lifts the heavy kettle from over the fire, pouring the water into the tub until it reaches a comfortable steaming temperature.  She gives you a wide smile when she notices your stare from the bed, holding out her hand and asking you to come take a bath.  If this was to be your life here, with this beautiful creature who loved you, well, going home was no longer on the table.  “I’m coming my love, just let me look at you some more.”  Your tender smile makes her blush and rub her neck awkwardly, and you just giggle.  Yes, this would be a good life.

[princess-faelivrin]

It’s a very abridged list of characters, BUT I wanted to make a post about my interpretations of some of the CoH characters despite the fact that Nobody Asked. Apologies in advance for 100000 blocks of text and yelling. 

TÚRIN

Call it projecting, ‘cause I guess it is, but Túrin has always been half-Asian in my head, in terms of appearance. I don’t know if I do a good enough job of showing it in my art, but Morwen reminds me of my Taiwanese mom and Húrin of my white-passing dad, so my Túrin takes after his mom. He’s stated to have grey eyes, so grey eyes he will have, but I tend to draw them dark enough that they almost look black. Aside from that, he’s tallish with unruly also-almost-black hair and a tendency to wear dark colors, which... might also be projection except for the tall part. It is what it is. 

Anyway, personality-wise... I mean this with all the love in my heart, but Túrin’s a dumb emo. Actually I partially take that back-- he’s a smart emo, smart and charismatic enough to be a natural leader with a good head for battle, but a ridiculous emo nonetheless. 

As stated in the Childhood of Túrin, he was kind of a weird kid, too old for his age and slightly unsettling, with a quick temper and an ability to hold grudges, but he cared deeply for the feelings of those around him and had a strong protective instinct for his little sis Lalaith. He’s also shown to have a leaning towards pity throughout his life, for anyone hurt or sad or at a disadvantage, which is really sweet and kinda makes me want to cry. 

Later on, Túrin is clearly pretty impulsive and can be ruled by anger, like when he smacked Saeros in the nose with a cup (which is valid) and lashed out at Beleg when he tried to give him bread. He felt bad about that second one pretty quickly, but I think it’s mentioned a couple times throughout CoH that people are scared of Túrin because of how quickly his mood can go south. 

On the other hand, despite the fact that he keeps directly and indirectly killing them, Túrin actually does really love his friends. Obvs he loves Beleg, and he loved Sador and probably Nellas too, and during the Nargothrond chapter he tries his best to look after Gwindor and Finduilas and try to figure out what’s making both of them so damned sad all the time. He fails, of course, because he’s too oblivious to notice the romantic tension so thick you’d have to use Gurthang to cut it, but he tries and that’s what counts. 

BELEG

I think it might just be because of fanart, but Beleg as I see him has silver hair. Between Beleg and Mablung, the consensus seems to be that one of them has dark hair and the other silver, so my Beleg is the silver one. I have actually no idea what color his eyes are, though. Hazel? Who knows. He’s taller than Túrin, that’s for sure, with long legs and broad shoulders. I like drawing him with a little white flower pin on his clothes. 

He seems to be a pretty cheerful dude, probably the most cheerful in all of CoH, which is good for him, I guess. He laughs when the outlaws see him and go “oh shit, who is that?” and lets them be in suspense for a second or two before going “haha, sike, it’s me! Beleg! I have food for y’all starving dudes.” Thus, he’s a good foil/companion to Túrin’s depressing nature and his death removes a lot of the scant happiness in Túrin’s life. 

Something I love about Beleg is that he’s very forgiving and just like... a ridiculously nice person for the situation. Beleg doesn’t hold anything against Túrin, doesn’t hold anything against Andróg either (which is pretty impressive,) and immediately decides to give Gwindor lembas and take him along for the ride after finding him under a tree in the forest. 

The big important thing to Beleg’s personality, imo, is that he’s very loyal (to Túrin specifically.) Despite being told it’s a dangerous idea, he goes and looks for Túrin in the wilderness, and even Thingol is well aware he won’t be stopped. It also outright says that where Túrin is concerned, Beleg “yield[s] to his love against his wisdom” to be with him. He’s straight up referred to as the most steadfast of friends, which is really sad because it’s like a sentence after he dies, but there it is-- Beleg is a good friend and a loyal one. 

TÚRIN’S FAMILY

I already mentioned the fact that Túrin’s family reminds me a lot of mine, which definitely influences my perception of them, but anyway: 

Morwen is a fairly angular lady, who has dark dark hair pulled into a chopstick bun behind her head and a pair of raven-feather earrings that gleam in low light. She’s the parent that Túrin got his unsettling edgy aura from, and her Displeased Face is enough to scare any intruder out of her house. She loves her kids and her husband, but she’s stern so sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Húrin is the neighborhood guy who knows everyone and who everyone knows in return. He’s kind of a square-looking blond guy, like Van Hohenheim from Fullmetal Alchemist except happier and more of a jock. He apparently can play the harp, which is cool, and he probably has lots of stories from being out and about with the elf-host. He loves his kids and his wife and likes to joke around sometimes with Túrin because he’s so straightforward and less inclined to humor. 

Niënor outstripped her parents and her brother in height, and ended up the tallest of the family. She has her dad’s blonde hair, and is slightly more square shaped than her mom or her brother. She’s also half-Asian, but you have to squint. She doesn’t fight like her brother, and is acutely aware of the Túrin-shaped hole in her mother’s life and heart and the matching shadow cast over her own life. However unlike Túrin she is in some ways, she has the same occasional fiery stubbornness and penchant for anguished theatrics, albeit on a smaller scale. 

Lalaith... poor kid. She was charming and cute but didn’t last long. 

MABLUNG

My Mablung has wavy-ish dark hair in a similar style to Beleg’s, and has a slightly less willowy build, for lack of a better way to compare them. He’s got dark eyebrows to better express how utterly unimpressed he is with whatever dumb shit is going down in Doriath, and probably a few not-too-flashy piercings. He’s very dignified in posture and appearance, but not like... pretentious, because he fights people in the woods on a regular basis. 

Out of Túrin’s friends, Mablung is probably the most akin to the Responsible One, with Gwindor at a close second. He’s less willing than Beleg to drop everything for a friend, and requires more evidence to support it, but he’ll still do it after thinking it over and will probably beat himself up about not having gone for it sooner. 

On that point, poor guy takes too much onto his own shoulders and ends up feeling shitty and miserable when he fails at something that he could not have possibly succeeded at. This is demonstrated in terrible, heartwrenching fashion throughout the story, when Mablung asks Thingol to fire him because he lost Morwen and Niënor, to which Thingol says “what no, you’re too good, we need you” and Melian says “don’t feel too bad about it, ok?” (he ignores the last part and continues to feel bad enough about it that he looks for Niënor for Literal Years.) Also on that topic is the scene in which Mablung sees Túrin dead and stands there like some sort of Beleriand Benvolio, realizing that all his friends are dead and that “thus with words have I slain one that I loved.” 

NELLAS

I almost forgot her, can you imagine? You probably can, because she’s a minor character who disappeared like a third of the way through the story, but let’s not talk about that. She’s a forest girl, so I imagine she likes to wear a lot of nice leaves on her head, and/or make a bunch of flower crowns and then drop them in fright if anyone happens to find her in the process. She has dark brown hair and big, curious eyes, and is short and slight even by human standards. 

Nellas has... hardcore dirt lesbian energy. It’s implied that she had a crush on Túrin, but honestly, I doubt that very much. In my head, she and Túrin were just really close pals, and she taught him about how to live in the woods and how to rescue worms from the rain. Her moment of glory, basically, is going into the city once and immediately proceeding to freeze up from anxiety in front of the king. Is that a mood? Yeah and I love her. I hope she’s okay.  

ANDRÓG

I realize he’s another minor character, but he is a very compelling one to me specifically, so. As I imagine him, he’s a fairly lean young dude with a hungry-wolf look about him, which is sort of a mixture of desperation, suspicion, and plain snappishness. He has dark eyes and hair a little darker than what could be called ‘mousy brown,’ tied back in a short ponytail. He also has a frequent scowl and generally is a little bit scary, although he isn’t exactly physically imposing in the ‘tall and buff’ sense. 

There really is no other way to describe Andróg’s personality than ‘he’s a particularly mean tsundere.’ He’s just... full of rage and repressed Feelings for Túrin and possibly also Beleg. Unfortunately, these feelings manifest in Being A Bitch And Generally Not Nice. It takes him so long to admit he can’t actually hate Beleg that he literally just up and dies after doing one (1) nice thing. Why do I like him? It’s anyone’s guess tbh. 

GWINDOR

Ah... yes...... the character who nobody talks about but who I love with my whole heart and soul. To start off with appearance, the only canon things about what he looks like is that he has dark hair and looks older than he would otherwise because torture. Immediately post-imprisonment and during it, I imagine his hair is short, but beforehand and a while after, it gets back to being long. He has a bunch of scars from all that too, and generally has the bearing and amount of grey hairs as a substitute teacher who nobody listens to. I draw him with grey eyes usually, but saw @bisexualturin‘s hc of him having had violet eyes before and I’m kinda in love thanks. 

In terms of who he is as a person, we don’t know much of what he was like before the Nirnaeth, but as I see him, he’s always had a fiery streak and a slightly acerbic sense of humor. Being tormented for 14 years forced him to mellow out some, by which I mean a) how the hell are you supposed to keep your sense of humor after that and b) as shown in his arguments with Túrin over tactics, he’s now extremely wary of head-on battle. 

He’s fundamentally someone who wants the best for the people around him, and who loves both Finduilas and Túrin very much despite feeling hurt and miserable over the fact that his opinion is now worth nothing to those in charge and the sense that he’s not good enough for anyone (much less his two best friends) in his current state. Overall, his dying speech is emblematic of the very Oof Ouch and Complicated feelings he ended up having toward Túrin, namely “you’re a dumbass and probably should have listened to me, but I love you and I am going to try my damndest to give both you and Finduilas as much of a chance at life as I can, even here as I bleed out in your arms.” 

Which brings us to... 

FINDUILAS

Finduilas is sweet like honey chamomile tea and her whole being radiates soft sunlight. In my mind, she’s somewhat round-faced, with really fluffy golden hair, sparkly freckles on tan skin, and a liking for wearing light blue clothes that match her eyes. She smiles a lot and possibly gives off actual light??? Also my heart is full of affection for chubby Finduilas. General consensus is Soft. 

Canon-wise, whether she’s more introverted or extroverted is kind of up to interpretation, as all we’re really given is that she worries about Túrin when he’s out fighting and “wishe[s] not to add one tear to [Gwindor’s] suffering.” I tend to think of her as sunny and gregarious, with way more game than her dad, and with endless reserves of empathy, sympathy, and compassion for the people she loves. 

As a Finwean princess, she absolutely has the capacity for badassery, which makes me very into the idea of Túrin rescuing her post-Nargothrond as per Gwindor’s request and the two of them going on a road trip of doom. But unfortunately, we don’t get to see another side of her in the book. 

I usually just put the book down and cry after the sack of Nargothrond, so I’ll just do one more character: 

ORODRETH

Ok, so Finduilas has to have gotten her Vanyarin hair from her dad, clearly. But since Elves can probably change their appearances based on willpower to some degree, Orodreth’s hair is nowhere near as fluffy, and is a darker honey-blonde than Finduilas’ gold. He’s one of the plainest-looking Finweans by virtue of the fact that he perpetually has this look on his face that makes him seem like he wants to melt into the floor and go back to Aman. Which he kinda does. 

Unfortunately, Orodreth didn’t do much in the story except be a doormat to like five different people and then die, but I still like him for whatever reason. Way early on, before Húrin or his kids were a thing, Orodreth was still himself, aka someone who asked nicely for people to not make bad decisions, and predictably didn’t get listened to. Sure, some of Fëanor’s terrible boys took over his hidden elf city, but what was he going to do? Fight them? No. He’d rather just Not. 

...I feel bad for him. He literally did not ask for Any Of That. 

that’s all y’all, I am so sorry for making you read the entirety of the inside of my head as it has been for the past four months 

[darkriversdeep]

Story: Dark Rivers Deep

Intro:

She was twelve with a small thin frame for a body, that while tall, looked horribly straight. Her non-existent hips where only slightly smaller than her shoulders were broad and when she wore her jeans, the waist band was enough to make them look exactly the same size. Her long brown hair was straight too and her face angular, giving her a strange elf appearance that would have been comical if it wasn’t so damn sad. She was a plan Jane in every way. Not even her hair had volume to contrast against that bean pole image. It laid flat against her scalp looking thin, even though it was actually fairly thick.

Her nose, eyes and jaw line were all sharp and petite, while her arms and legs looked over long and starved for mass. Her skin was pale and sickly, contrasting her dark brown eyes that looked large and dark behind her thick glasses, but really they were small and deep set. The glasses magnified her eyes, however to look twice as large than they were.

Jenna recalled that morning as she sat huddled under the thick brush and deep rooted trees, fearing for her life and hiding from whatever kind of horror was out there, right now, hunting her. Life seemed so much simpler this morning than it did now. She recalled standing in front of the mirror like she did every morning, wishing she didn’t look so thin and pale, wondering when or if she would ever make a friend and worried about what kind of bullshit she was going to have to put up with today in school. Now she wished she could return to that simpler time and start over. Maybe then, she wouldn’t be out here in the woods, after dark and running for her very life. Something was out there! It was coming for her and Jenna felt sure it was going to kill her!

Her dad would miss her of course, he was her only true friend in this world and she loved him dearly. He had raised her by himself, her mom having died giving birth to her and although he wasn’t the most suited for raising a girl, he loved her just as much as she loved him and he did his absolute best. Her dad wasn’t good at knowing what a girl should look like, but hell, he wasn’t good at knowing how a guy should dress either. He wasn’t hansom or ugly, he was just as plain has she was and just as tall and thin as her too.

Jenna missed her dad right now, but was glad he wasn’t here with her or it would be both of them falling prey to whatever creature was stalking her. She hadn’t as of yet hadn’t seen the beast, but she could hear it, stalking, moving slowly through the thick underbrush, it’s paws snapping twigs and branches as it moved. It wasn’t trying to hide itself, but rather it seemed to want her to know that it was stalking her, hunting her and had every intention of devouring her.

Why had she gone running off? She had been laughed at before by more than just the kids in her class! Mr. Cardin had laughed at her before many times! She didn’t understand and now she was here, in the deep of the woods, scared for her life and being hunted! What made this time more painful for her? There wasn’t even a difference between this time and all the many times this year that he had done that very same thing.

“Why the fuck did I run?” She whispered to herself, her breath sounding haggard and short in her ears. She was close to panic and she knew it.

A small twig snapped, giving away the location of the creature that pursued her. It was north of her current location and by the sound of it, she had put some distance between her and it. She wished she knew what it was. She might have been an ugly girl, but she was smart like her dad. She read all kinds of books on animals and was familiar with all sorts of species. She thought it was a large cat, perhaps a mountain lion or cougar that lived in the mountains that surrounded Ashley, Idaho, but she could not recall ever hearing that they had come this far down. They were a good ten miles from the mountains here and they were moving away from the mountains with every sprint and step.

It was time to move, but this time, instead of continuing south, she moved west, toward town. She didn’t know how far she had run and that didn’t really matter. She knew the highway was west of her location and if she could make it to the highway, she would most certainly survive this day. As she stood to move, she secretly swore to herself that she would never go running out of school again.

[wardenalistair]

Please tell us more about Leon! Or any other npcs you don't mind sharing!

what have you done, anon

this’ll be long winded so under the cut

I’ll talk about only two of my NPCs cause otherwise this’ll get too long. Leon, who is technically a lycanthrope, and the current apple of my eye, hopelessly devoted to @wittyy-name‘s rogue Sephrius. And then Jelly who is the MOST fun to RP is my badass jiggly barbarian who @gibslythe‘s halfling romanced.

Leon-

Leon is the character I designed as the big bad in the latest campaign I wrote. He’s a lycanthrope but through favouritism from the pack’s Deity and being an arcana prodigy, he’s maintained his humanity past most other members of the pack. He is somewhere in his early to mid 30s. Can’t give you specific age even if I wanted to cause his birthdate is literally unknown. He has dark black hair, cut slightly shorter on the sides with a thick collection of dark curls on the top that usually sit at around mid-forehead length. When he’s not put together, his hair is a little wild and untamed, but as soon as he’s given at least ten minutes to straighten up (haha as if that’s even possible; he’s so fucking gay) its all gathered in place and cleaned up.His face is always composed and he is seldom showing more than a flat, almost disinterested expression, regardless of whether or not he really *is* disinterested.

Dark straight brows perpetually set in place, framing moonlight silver eyes that neutrally and carefully observe everything around him. He’s rarely clean shaven, not out of choice but mainly out of defeat, as his five o’clock shadow is more of an eleven o’clock shadow so he’s given up trying to tame it and just keeps it as a manageable stubble most of the time. Honestly really pretty lips that only very very occasionally curl up into anything more than a flat line of neutrality.He’s half human, quarter elandrin (high elf) and quarter drow - not that he knows that last bit - so his ears are pretty average sized for a human, with only a slight point to them to differentiate him from actual humans. Due to his half-human/quarter-elandrin bloodline, he’s pretty tall - six feet on the dot. Unlike the average half-elf, he doesn’t match the lithe, lean physique they usually sport. He has broad shoulders and is fairly well built - think Chris Evans à la Captain America build (thanks lycanthrope for the swollness). 

His usually attire is very clean in both look and legitimately cleanliness. Streamline outfits that fall somewhere in the black, gray and white colour spectrum. With the only really colour being gold accents but that’s only in accessories or small details on otherwise monochromatic pieces. Plain and crisp shirts matched with just as plain and crisp pants. He’s a simple man when it comes to looks, the only real necessity is that he’s put together.Studious and academic, he spends the vast majority of his free time researching more and more arcana to add to his already expansive repertoire of spells. He’s athletic enough to defend himself in hand-to-hand combat but his skills with weapons is very limited, keeping it as a last resort. 

The subject of him and @wittyy-name‘s Sephrius is a whole other matter and I will not elongate his blurb anymore than is necessary. 

Jelly Belly- 

Jelly is my Dwarven Barbarian lady who I want to step on me. Her intro to new people (in a thick and dramatized southern drawl) is “My name is Joanne Mary-Louise Anne Katherine Thompson but my friends call me Jelly Belly on account of ONE: my love for Jelly Bellies and TWO: my jelly belly” and then jiggles her belly. She a heavy set dwarf lady who will mess you up if you look at her the wrong way. She’s the Champion of my campaign’s small western town, which means she won an all out brawl that determines who gets to “govern” the town. Its hard to explain in few words. She doesn’t want the job tbh - some dude just whistled at her and she decided to fuck him up, but then people just kept coming and coming so she just kept knocking them out as they came. She runs a cattle farm which supplies the small desert town with resources but she’s not the MOST hospitable. When the party first came to her farm (unannounced) she shot two of the members in the foot only to be later courted by one of them.

Anyways, she’s a taller dwarf (which isn’t all that tall lmao) with freckles sprinkled over any and all skin visible. She has big, Merida curly, red hair that is usually down but sometimes whipped up into a messy knot on top of her head when she’s more involved in what she’s working on. She’s fucking TANKED okay, like will tear your arm off with a handshake tanked, with a big, round, jiggly belly that she is immensely proud of. She’s often dressed in denim overalls and a white t-shirt, occasionally a straw hat when its super sunny out. 

She has a bunch of cows, but her favourite is a red cow named Juicy. She got Juicy when she was a teenager -- well, her mom did with the intention of having her used for milk for a bit then slaughtered for meat. Jelly fell for her almost immediately and refused to let her mom slaughter her, so she’s kept her as pretty much just a pet ever since then and has her trained very much like a dog. She also has a bull named Steve that she has some beef with (haha) but keeps around cause she needs a bull. I’m pretty sure she’ll come around to him at some point but she holds grudges for now. 

@gibslythe‘s halfling named Nym asked her out to dinner and Jelly, a huge fucking lesbian, agreed if she won in an arm wrestling match. Tiny Nym was doomed and obviously lost but Jelly liked her so agreed to at least a drink. I rolled to see how their date went post-campaign and rolled an 18, then rolled to see how their relationship went and rolled a nat20 so they’re hitched now. It’s canon. 

okay okay im done im sorry that was lengthy. I have 100000 other NPCS who i love - my first NPC couple I created who have held my heart for years, my genasi cleric who is the daughter of a water god (also her patron), my suave af halfling swashbuckler who runs a mercenary guild, my one eyed and gruff dwarf merc leader who is endlessly annoyed by my halfling. It goes on and on. I love my kids okay. 

[raevan-muns-supercut]

His Arrival - Rosewood Copse

Serialized Story from Ouroandar & Raerys Rosewood - Pt. 1 (Long Form -  the TDLR version forthcoming)

He wasn't entirely sure what to expect from this picnic or if there was a specific dress code he had to follow.  No information was given in her letter so he assumed that casual was probably best, especially since he'd be bringing guns.  She didn't seem to be the sort of woman who indulged in such activities but she seemed more than enough interested in him to entertain his hobbies just as he would entertain her picnic.  A variety of guns and ammo had been packed and he dressed himself a bit more casually than his usual leathers:  Dark jeans and a plain t-shirt, simple, nondescript, just as he always preferred.   Being under-dressed wasn't a worry, he highly doubted that she would care what he wore permitting he didn't turn up looking like a complete slob.  Although she told him to arrive only with his smirk, he did pluck a single red rose from the Silvermoon gardens before making his way towards her estate. 

 It was his first visit to her family's domain, assuming she had given him an address or directions he would show up within a couple hours after his letter just as promised.  As always there was a bit of a caution in his arrival.  He kept his distance from the house for awhile,  simply watching and waiting for a good fifteen minutes before he finally made his approach.  He was always wary around unfamiliar spaces, while he didn't think she had any evil intent towards him, he had plenty of enemies in the world.  Various means of escape were always accounted for first and foremost....and he did have a duffel bag full of guns so that aided in putting him at ease. 

 Stepping up to the front door, he gave it a brief but powerful knock before stepping back and off to one side as he awaited...whoever may answer.  She certainly didn't seem the sort that would answer her own door. 

Author - @ouroandar

  The sun was already retreating behind the manse's two stories, only warm streamers of its light slithering across the red-clay shingled roof. Ouro was thrown in shade, so too the overgrown flowerbeds that lined the front of the house. Periwinkle, creeping thyme, and weeds stuck up from the cracks in the pathway, spread out under the windows and their jaunty red and gold awnings, sticking green and greedy fingers into the overlong grass that made up the lawn. The stoop itself was clean, no grit or moss upon it, swept clean very recently if one could judge by the dusted periwinkle leaves to either side of it. Ouro had a moment or two to inspect these things, observing in his way. The scent of green and early flowers was pungent, overtaking the dry rot that showed its early fingers under the sills of the windows and the threshold of the door. The freshly polished brass of the sun shaped doorknocker and that debris free slab of marble were no cover for the lonesomeness of this once loved estate. While the man stood, the sound of heavy, though measured footsteps thrummed, the volume growing in intensity, until the red painted door swung open with a low whining complaint of ancient wood and brass. Blocking the warm light inside the house was a tall figure, square of shoulder and long of leg. Shiny shoes poked just over the threshold, attached to black clad legs that rose up into a stuffy appearing suit jacket. Over the jacket fell a thinly braid of soft white hair. The face that loomed was that of Aerlith, Raerys's unfortunate butler. The two men had never been formally introduced, though both had likely seen one another. It was also likely that Aerlith had seen more of Mr. An'dar than the other way around. The scandal the rogue had caused among the "help" was already legendary, coloring many conversations round their table in the kitchen of the Townhouse. To Aerlith's credit, his opinions were not visible on his leathery face. While still tall and proud as most Sin'dorei were, he was of a venerable age and in his years of service had learned the fine art of looking as if he didn't know anyone but his employers. Ouro received no smile of jocular welcome, nor did he receive a thinly veiled sneer of disdain. "The Lady is just this way, Mister An'dar, if you'd follow me, please." The elder elf turned on his heel, opening the way for Ouro to enter the house. Aerlith lead the guest through the house, which was in truth a fairly straight forward affair: built in an open concept style, there were only arches that lead from one sizable room to another.

Aerlith took Ouro to the left and through a lovely windowed parlor. Fine but much dated furniture dominated the space, colors earthy and fabric slightly worn. A hearth on the North wall was topped with a large portrait of what one assumed might be Raerys's mother and father. Below it and sitting on the mantle were a collection of pictures, candids of faces that Ouro would not likely recognize, save for those that featured the curly headed little firebug who was posed with her twin - Raenvyr. 

Author - Raerys Rosewood

Ouro had dealt with enough stoic butlers in his day and there was always one thing they all had in common:  They never liked him.  He was used to it, with even as much as they attempted to hide their disdain it was always prevalent and for a good reason.  Ladies would run a risk of corrupting their reputations by running around with a scamp like him.  Not that any of them exactly knew who he was, but all assumptions usually pointed towards something 'not moral'.  Perhaps that was one of the reasons... noble, high class women were rather fond of their scamps and the help had to simply stand by and internally roll their eyes while it happened. 

 An amicable smile was given towards the butler, even if the expression wouldn't be returned he would still present a decent image up front even if his clothing didn't quite fit into the woman's lavish lifestyle.  He remained quiet as he followed Aerlith through the house, looking not to her fancy decor but mostly towards the locations of the doors and windows and any other sort of 'escape route'.  This was most important to him, small details could be explored at a later date if he were ever brought into this estate again.  For now his own safety was always at the top of the list, counting how many paces it took him to cross each room for any of those 'just in case' situations.

It was unlikely that something would happen for him to have to actually know this information, but in his past experience it was always better to be safe than sorry. 

  Author - @ouroandar

At the western wall were a set of large balsa wood doors, that had been carved into an intricate pattern of sun shapes and painted in the same warm white of the stucco outside. Through them the late afternoon sun painted their stars on the dark marble floor and across the furniture. Aerlith approached them with his solid steps, arm reaching out to push them open for Ouro. The stars swept away, a broad and blinkingly light column of sunshine split the room, inviting Ouro out into the loamy green of the yard's spring splendor. Laid in a patchwork path, carnelian cobbles like those in Silvermoon wound out from a small step, and into the overgrown grass. Despite Raerys's order to have the space for the picnic shorn, the rest stood thick and to mid shin. It was here Ouro could smell the fire, the savory allure of burning wood and roasting meat. Aerlith shifted from his post beside the door, crossing that shaft of light to disappear in its sear, escorting the rogue deeper into Rosewood Copse. It was but a few steps when the tall shelter of Eversong's well known Aspens threw up fingers of comforting shade, enough to let the eyes adjust, shielding Ouro from the suns final spears of shine. "Oooh, finally..." Out of a shadowed mote to his left, emerged Raerys, dressed as ever, perfectly for her venue. It seemed she had a dress for every occasion, this one no less than any other. Greeting him like she often greeted Trisandrah, she moved in, pressing air kisses to either of his cheeks, while a cold glass was slid into his hand. "And right on time, Dinner is just about done." She leaned back, smiling at him with her hair uncharacteristically free and flowing over her shoulders and the scoop neck of that pretty picnic dress. The bright flowers in their large pattern suited her. Cheerful, open, whimsical. These words might not always describe her, but it had been the primary face she'd offered him, the mask through which she navigated their fledgling friendship. So close, her sun warmed hair danced in the wind, offering up a light scent of lotus and thistle smoke. She lifted her own glass of bourbon, sipping, eyes drifting toward the grill area where her cook and two maids worked to prepare the evening meal. When she looked back at Ouro, her smile was sly and reminiscent of the shy girl he'd met just a couple short weeks ago, "I missed you..."

Author: Raerys Rosewood

He bit his tongue to keep himself from making random comments to her butler, it was damn tempting but the man was well practiced in keeping that neutral expression.  The closer they were towards this 'picnic' the more and more inquisitive he became. He assumed there'd be some food and booze, sex on a blanket out under the stars but this...this was extravagant. This was not a picnic, this was just an outdoor, seemingly fancy dinner.  The moment she emerged in her little dress his lips pressed into a thin line, although laced with amusement.  The air kisses were returned before he held out that single red rose to her that he had plucked from the Silvermoon gardens.  "I didn't know the dress code."  Jeans and a fitted t-shirt definitely did not fit into this atmosphere, but it was too late now and honestly he didn't care all that much and was under the assumption she probably didn't either. 

"You look lovely, by the way."  She was given a once over before his emerald gaze darts around the area in search of something.  "This is....nice.  Not exactly what I expected out of a picnic, but I suppose I'm not completely surprised."  The woman liked to flaunt her money, that much was easy to see.  He was no stranger to wealth either, but his flaunting usually came in the form of expensive alcohol, gambling and weapons. -Especially- weapons.  "Is there even one of those wicker picnic baskets or a checkered blanket?  Maybe I stereotype picnics too much.

"He brings his glass of whatever she handed him underneath his nose to sniff briefly before helping himself to a sip, occasionally glancing towards where her cook and maids were gathered.  "I don't think your butler likes me much."  That sly little smirk was quick to spread, "He's got a very good poker face, but I know when I'm disliked."  He shifts the weight of his backpack slightly which only elicits a wider grin because he wasn't sure she was going to enjoy his little surprise now.  Best to keep those secured in his bag until the help all departed for the evening, although it may have been in everyone's best interest to warm all them about the impending gun shots that were going to be happening later in the evening. Maybe.  Did she even like guns?  Hmmm...  "So what's for dinner then?" 

author: @ouroandar

The bouquet scent and flavor his drink rewarded, a perfectly measured Sazerac, complete with a thin shaving of lemon peel had been offered. She'd apparently gone all out on his behalf. While the drink was well made it lacked perhaps some of the artistry required for a perfect drink, none of her staff were professional mixologists to be sure. The young woman was both surprised and charmed by the rose, he didn't seem the type, not to her, not at all. The blossom soon found the touch of her lips and nose, Raerys taking in its scent and enjoying the soft brush of its petals against her mouth. Roses were, the house sigil, the house flower, and the motif of many things about the estate if one looked hard enough. Even while she luxuriated in its thoughtful choice, she surmised it had not been calculated as such, only incidental in the pleasure its simple offering would be. Give a pretty flower to a pretty girl, how could he lose? "It is lovely," referring to the rose with a twirl of it by its stem in her fingers, "thank you Ouro." She stepped back a pace, showing off the dress once again, those lovely legs emerging from its hemline. "I've had it forever and never worn it..." Sooty lashes batted slowly over her tainted eyes, her expression all dimples and blush. As he was acquainted with his drink, Raerys snapped off the rose's stem, leaving a slight stub, just enough to anchor it behind her right ear, where it was set among the wild curls and sharply tapered flesh. Content that it would remain where she placed it; she reached out for his free hand and twined their fingers, drawing him deeper into the yard and the comfort of the late afternoon shade. "Oh, grilled chicken and carrots, a little salad... a bit of decadence for desert, nothing overly complicated." A comfortable absence of words drifted in to couch their traverse. She took the rough-hewn stone path leading him through a hedge of roses - which this early in the season were not in bloom, though their leaves were evergreen and unmistakable. Birds chattered from within it and the surrounding trees; Robins, Martins and the distinct trill of Red Winged Black Birds happily filled that vacuum of sound. On the other side of the tall and unkempt hedge was a square, perhaps an eighth of an acre or so, which had been cleared long ago for gatherings, games of badminton or croquette. To its far Southern corner stood an aged Willow, a weeper in fact, its trunk pleasingly fat and knotted with age. Set into the low hanging sweepers, emerging leaves still yellowed as the sun had not the time just yet to lick them green, various hanging lights, and beneath it lay a large gold wool blanket, pillows of the range of primary colors to compliment, the cheekily queried picnic basket, and the tall green profile of the family heirloom Hookah. There were other items strewn about the blanket but at this distance they were indistinguishable. It looked to be the idyllic Sin'dorei picnic, filled with luxury and the presumption of class and romance. "

author: Raerys Rosewood

Two fingers immediately dip into the tumbler to withdraw the lemon shaving, tossing it aside as he gave her a little wink.  "This is good.." He gestures to the glass, "Although if you and your staff would allow it, I'd like to make my own for the next rounds.  Big fan of making my own cocktails when not in a bar setting."  Not to mention it was a bit of a paranoid habit, he preferred to watch his drinks be made for him given there have been a few attempts at poisoning or drugging.  Not that her staff would do such a thing, but surely they've at least thought about it at some point. 

He follows her further into the yard, settling a pair of sunglasses over his eyes to block the afternoon sun before doing a full scan of yard, occasionally glancing over his shoulder until he seems appeased.  His hidden gaze focuses on her backside to watch that tempting sway of her hips, grinning devilishly to himself.  "Sounds good, I was half expecting you to start spouting off all these extravagant dishes given your set-up out here.  You know I would have been content with sandwiches and beer, you spoil me."  Along with the comment he gives her rear a playful pinch atop her dress.

 "Anyways, how long have these lands been in your family? Seems the manor itself is quite old."  Casual conversation as he continued to soak in as much information as possible. "How long has it been since the staff has seen you bring a man home with you on a regular basis?   Are they accustomed to my sort or is this new for them?"  author @ouroandar