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LooseTimber
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2013
Hey all,
So I'm aware the elves are kind of the norm when it comes to fantasy, and goblins are in vogue right now, but right now I'm just kind of looking to get in an RP with a dwarvish woman, specifically paired with humans.
Why? No outstanding reason, just looking for someone short and thick. I'll have a plot listed down below, add a few more as I think of them.
What you need to know about me:
I haven't been back on BM for while, so I'm a bit rusty.
Still working, sometimes quite late, so I can't promise I'll post every day, but I'll make an honest swing at posting every other. I can pump out 2 - 3 paragraphs pretty easily, and can also rapid-fire 1 paragraph replies if we're on at the same time.
If you're no longer interested in the RP, or you want to try to take it in a different direction, please let me know. Communication is very important to me.
Currently I prefer to RP through PM, but I can also RP through forums, and I'm pretty sure I have a discord I can dig up somewhere.
What I'm looking for:
- Looking to put together a mid-range RP with a fair amount of smut in there, but with a solid plot in the background.
- Mostly interested in slender or athletic women with small breasts or flat chests, or chubby women with plump breasts.
- I'm not dead set on any particular ethnicity or nationality, and if you're looking to veer away from the typical dwarvish appearance and culture, I would welcome it. Scottish accents not required. Freckles, tomboys, and/or darker skinned characters appreciated, but entirely optional.
- F-List
What I need from you:
- I've listed a few traits I'm looking for your character above. Please let me know what traits or features you would like to see in my character or characters.
- Speaking of your character, if you could give me a basic run-down on them, that would be great! Name, general description, possible background. Physical descriptions are fine, so are faceclaims, photos or drawings.
- Let me know what specific kinks you want to hit up, and which plot/plot ending you wanted to aim for.
- If you have your own plot you wanted to try out, please let me know.
Plots:
So I'm aware the elves are kind of the norm when it comes to fantasy, and goblins are in vogue right now, but right now I'm just kind of looking to get in an RP with a dwarvish woman, specifically paired with humans.
Why? No outstanding reason, just looking for someone short and thick. I'll have a plot listed down below, add a few more as I think of them.
What you need to know about me:
I haven't been back on BM for while, so I'm a bit rusty.
Still working, sometimes quite late, so I can't promise I'll post every day, but I'll make an honest swing at posting every other. I can pump out 2 - 3 paragraphs pretty easily, and can also rapid-fire 1 paragraph replies if we're on at the same time.
If you're no longer interested in the RP, or you want to try to take it in a different direction, please let me know. Communication is very important to me.
Currently I prefer to RP through PM, but I can also RP through forums, and I'm pretty sure I have a discord I can dig up somewhere.
What I'm looking for:
- Looking to put together a mid-range RP with a fair amount of smut in there, but with a solid plot in the background.
- Mostly interested in slender or athletic women with small breasts or flat chests, or chubby women with plump breasts.
- I'm not dead set on any particular ethnicity or nationality, and if you're looking to veer away from the typical dwarvish appearance and culture, I would welcome it. Scottish accents not required. Freckles, tomboys, and/or darker skinned characters appreciated, but entirely optional.
- F-List
What I need from you:
- I've listed a few traits I'm looking for your character above. Please let me know what traits or features you would like to see in my character or characters.
- Speaking of your character, if you could give me a basic run-down on them, that would be great! Name, general description, possible background. Physical descriptions are fine, so are faceclaims, photos or drawings.
- Let me know what specific kinks you want to hit up, and which plot/plot ending you wanted to aim for.
- If you have your own plot you wanted to try out, please let me know.
Plots:
You've grown up, hearing horror stories about the world above. About a blinding, burning sun, baking and blistering all it touches. Torrents of rain, drowning all who are caught in it's downfall, and biting blizzards freezing flesh solid. And when there's nothing left to tumble down from the sky, all that remains in the endless maw of night gaping overhead, a bone-pale moon shrieking it's way across the maddeningly empty void. Savage beasts roam the land, and can come from any direction, even above, swooping down from the clouds. Elves crouch in every tree, waiting to fill any unwary trespasser with a hundred barbed arrow. Twisted vines and bristling grasses threaten to bind you up, strangle you, and pull you down into the loamy soil, mere fertilizer now.
And worst of all, are the humans. Roving bands of barbarians, bandits, thieves and liars, slaughtering, pillaging, burning and brawling. Cannibalistic, knuckle-dragging hairless apes, who would enjoy nothing more than getting their hands on a good, clean, virtuous dwarven maiden, only to rape and defile her, sell her into slavery, or sacrifice her to their depraved and bloodthirsty gods. There are tales of human wizards, tall and bent like gnarled trees, with whispery thin spider-silk beards, who use dwarvish blood to keep themselves strong, and force themselves on dwarvish women, spawning forth mindless half-human half-dwarf abominations.
It is said that there is naught but chaos and bloodshed up there. For how could it not be, dominated by creatures with such short lives? They live not even half as long as we do, how do you expect them to gather the knowledge, the wisdom, nay even the decency to become a true civilization? How do you reason with a creature, that lives with one foot in the grave? How do you expect a being to fear the wrath of Justice, when it was born to die?
You are a young dwarvish scholar, having lived your entire life in the grand city of Sharagzar, the Seven Iron Bones of the Skyseed Mountain. Never have you left it's walls, never delved upwards to the surface, with it's ghastly sun, never faced the terrors of the sky, nor the monsters who walk beneath it's azure cloak. But now your studies call upon you to visit a sister under-city, along a path that can only be tread on the surface. You've booked passage via the trade routes, from the city to the over-roads, and from there, hope to catch a ride with one of the many human (shuddering at the thought) merchant caravans that criss-cross the forests and hills of this land. None of this seemed quite real, until the massive doors of the outer gate, the Seal of Foerinnger, closed shut and locked behind you.
Any and all aspect of this can be changed. You could be a priestess, visiting a temple in another dwarvish city, or maybe a warrior, determined to find her destiny on the surface. Perhaps this isn't your choice, and you were banished from the city, a low-class gutter rat exiled for her crimes, or an ousted noble, cast out for refusing an arranged marriage.
And worst of all, are the humans. Roving bands of barbarians, bandits, thieves and liars, slaughtering, pillaging, burning and brawling. Cannibalistic, knuckle-dragging hairless apes, who would enjoy nothing more than getting their hands on a good, clean, virtuous dwarven maiden, only to rape and defile her, sell her into slavery, or sacrifice her to their depraved and bloodthirsty gods. There are tales of human wizards, tall and bent like gnarled trees, with whispery thin spider-silk beards, who use dwarvish blood to keep themselves strong, and force themselves on dwarvish women, spawning forth mindless half-human half-dwarf abominations.
It is said that there is naught but chaos and bloodshed up there. For how could it not be, dominated by creatures with such short lives? They live not even half as long as we do, how do you expect them to gather the knowledge, the wisdom, nay even the decency to become a true civilization? How do you reason with a creature, that lives with one foot in the grave? How do you expect a being to fear the wrath of Justice, when it was born to die?
You are a young dwarvish scholar, having lived your entire life in the grand city of Sharagzar, the Seven Iron Bones of the Skyseed Mountain. Never have you left it's walls, never delved upwards to the surface, with it's ghastly sun, never faced the terrors of the sky, nor the monsters who walk beneath it's azure cloak. But now your studies call upon you to visit a sister under-city, along a path that can only be tread on the surface. You've booked passage via the trade routes, from the city to the over-roads, and from there, hope to catch a ride with one of the many human (shuddering at the thought) merchant caravans that criss-cross the forests and hills of this land. None of this seemed quite real, until the massive doors of the outer gate, the Seal of Foerinnger, closed shut and locked behind you.
Humans are... not as bad as you thought they were. True, they are less organized and disciplined than your dwarvish brethren, and they seem to rush into everything, but with their shorter lives, they're forced to. They simply don't have the time to dwell or plan as much as you do. Nonetheless, they have an undeniable comradery, and a capacity for kindness, empathy, and bravery you did not expect.
(This is the most open of the plots. We could make this a reverse haram, a one-on-one, or maybe YC finally cuts lose and has a gangbang)
(This is the most open of the plots. We could make this a reverse haram, a one-on-one, or maybe YC finally cuts lose and has a gangbang)
You grew up with stories of terror, but also... trashy human smut. Yes, at some point, you got your hands on a book, written by humans, and for years it has been your terrible, deep, dark secret. You have read this pulpy prose and cheezy dialog over and over again. And now... now you get to travel the land where this wonderfully awful nonsense of a story was first published. You're a smart girl, you know full well that things won't play out like they will in your stories. But surely, there's a strong, tall, broad-chested caravan guard who would be more than happy to help keep you warm, during those long, cold surface nights.
These are not merchants. These are slavers and raiders. Once they're far enough from the mountain, their true nature is revealed, and they fall upon you, using your body to fit the depraved depths of their pleasure. And once their done? They'll be shipping you off, to slave markets in parts unknown, never to see your mountain again. Or worse...
You're not quite sure how it happened. Maybe you went on a bender, and had your coinpurse snatched. Maybe a brawl was started, tables smashed and bottles broken, and you were fingered as the one who kicked it off. Maybe you were traveling with others, and they ate, drank, and fucked their way to a massive tab, and snuck out, leaving you to pick it up.
Either way, you have a massive bill, and no coin to pay it.
But instead of rousing the city guard and having you hauled off to the stocks, the pubkeeper lets you work it off as a barmaid. It seems to be the better option... at first.
In order to keep the patrons happy, you are encouraged to strip down more and more throughout the evening, customers allowed to freely grope and fondle whichever parts they please. On top of that, there's a few lonely travelers and sailors who offer additional coin for some extra services. No need to get a room... they'd be more than happy to bend you over and plow you right at the table.
Either way, you have a massive bill, and no coin to pay it.
But instead of rousing the city guard and having you hauled off to the stocks, the pubkeeper lets you work it off as a barmaid. It seems to be the better option... at first.
In order to keep the patrons happy, you are encouraged to strip down more and more throughout the evening, customers allowed to freely grope and fondle whichever parts they please. On top of that, there's a few lonely travelers and sailors who offer additional coin for some extra services. No need to get a room... they'd be more than happy to bend you over and plow you right at the table.
Salamander's Warf may be a human-built city, but you've always considered it your own. You practically grew up here, and know most every street like the back of your hand. Fortunate, considering what you'll be doing tonight. You'll be running the back-ally gauntlet, starting at the old theatre, winding your way down to the Temple district, then all the way back, all the while buck-ass naked. While you may not be as nimble as most humans, your dwarvish ancestry gives you one massive advantage... you can see in the dark. Takes your eyes a little longer to adjust, but once they do, you've no need for candles or torches.
- Maybe your doing this as part of a dare, the consequence of a lost bet, an initiation. This is your first time pulling off a stunt like this, just to prove to a group of friends or a gang that you've got the guts.
- Maybe you've done this a few times, just for the thrill, the risk of getting caught. You've nearly stumbled right into guards a few times, catching yourself and hiding just in time, holding your breath as they passed, your heart pounding so hard you feared that they might hear it.
- Maybe this isn't your first time, and you run the gauntlet specifically because you know you'll get caught. You put up a façade, pretend to struggle, maybe even make them chase you a bit, only to be cornered down a dead end.
- Maybe your doing this as part of a dare, the consequence of a lost bet, an initiation. This is your first time pulling off a stunt like this, just to prove to a group of friends or a gang that you've got the guts.
- Maybe you've done this a few times, just for the thrill, the risk of getting caught. You've nearly stumbled right into guards a few times, catching yourself and hiding just in time, holding your breath as they passed, your heart pounding so hard you feared that they might hear it.
- Maybe this isn't your first time, and you run the gauntlet specifically because you know you'll get caught. You put up a façade, pretend to struggle, maybe even make them chase you a bit, only to be cornered down a dead end.
Only the uncultured would call this place a whore-house. To those who truly know it, The Smolderhold Bordello is a place of comfort, a sanctuary to re-kindle one's spirit. Three golden towers that rise above the din of the surrounding city, waving flags and banners that beckon the weary forward. Those that ply their trade within are skilled, trained by the Pleasure Guild, sanctioned and protected by the Black Hands of Sur, the zealot followers of the God of Passion. As such, the brothel whores have no fear of mis-treatment (unless they ask for it) and are free to pursue additional trade, to complement their carnal talents. Music, art, poetry, song, herbalism, alchemy, massage... even winemaking. Anything that may ease the mind and body of their clients.
This could be played as a one-off encounter, between your character and a single client, or multiple clients. Or, almost a reverse harem, with your character being visited by a few clients, one after the other.
This could be played as a one-off encounter, between your character and a single client, or multiple clients. Or, almost a reverse harem, with your character being visited by a few clients, one after the other.
Or, this could be reversed entirely, with your character visiting the brothel's man-whores. She might be a lone traveler just looking for some satisfaction, a regular re-visiting one of her favorites, or just someone who's looking to get pounded by several men at once without having to worry about making uncomfortable eye contact at work the next day.
You've run out of gold in the city of Gythmas' Hammah, and the extra coin you were expecting has yet to materialize. Maybe you were a merchant who lost it all, and has to start from scratch. A dwarvish noble, unused to living it rough, forced to flee your city after it was over-run by umber hulks. Some low-born thief, laying low in a human city, waiting for the dwarvish crime families to cool down after that double-cross you pulled on them. Perhaps you're a daughter of the stone who just so happens to like the sea better, but your ship ran aground, and you need to find a way to make some coin while the repairs are being made. Or maybe you just found yourself abandoned in this city. Somewhere, someone was supposed to come back for you, but whether intended or ill luck, they just never came back.
No matter your backstory, your path has brought you to the steps of the Smolderhold. Are you already a member of the pleasure guild? Do they give you a trial run with one of the clients, the brothel Madam hovering nearby, giving you pointers. Maybe an initial inspection? Or they could just throw you to the metaphorical wolves; if you have what it takes you'll come back for more, if not, well, best of luck to you.
No matter your backstory, your path has brought you to the steps of the Smolderhold. Are you already a member of the pleasure guild? Do they give you a trial run with one of the clients, the brothel Madam hovering nearby, giving you pointers. Maybe an initial inspection? Or they could just throw you to the metaphorical wolves; if you have what it takes you'll come back for more, if not, well, best of luck to you.
You were a nobleman's daughter once, one step away from being a princess. Golden loops on your wrists and ankles, fingernails gilded with platinum, silken dresses, soft furs, and fine surface absinthes at your whim. Then your father passed, and patronage passed to your uncle, a hard, harsh, calculating, and vindictive man. Your side of the family's status was suddenly stripped, your holdings seized, and your lot cast into slavery, with the only explanation given by your uncle being "past inequalities requiring correction." It appears the tales of bad blood within the family were vastly under estimated.
Slavery within the dwarvish holds was harsh, but not an insurmountable obstacle. It meant being sent to the salt and sprice mines, grueling but honorable work, a path for the destitute and repentant to re-build their status. A few years in the mines would get you into the mining guilds, and from there, a steady climb to respect and wealth. Hard, but not hopeless.
But you were not sent to the mines.
Whether an error, or just another underhanded calculation by your uncle, you and your kin were sent to the surface, where slavery amongst the humans meant something far more despondent. In Gythmas' Hammah you were separated, and you alone were brought to the blue-sand shores of Xauchaka. The blinding sun beats down on the slave markets of the city, oppressive like a massive unblinking eye staring at you with hate and fury, and you feel alone in it's sweltering glare, with nary a friend or family member to offer you comfort. Your fellow slaves, through equally frightened, take no interest in your suffering, while potential owners take, perhaps, too much interest.
A dwarf such as yourself might be a prized artisan and craftsman... but someone had decided that they have a better use for your body.
- A merchant prince, looking for a new sex toy.
- A local warlord, seeking a robust consort, to give him strong children
- A traveling adventurer, on the lookout for a traveling companion, with the promise of freedom for service well spent.
Slavery within the dwarvish holds was harsh, but not an insurmountable obstacle. It meant being sent to the salt and sprice mines, grueling but honorable work, a path for the destitute and repentant to re-build their status. A few years in the mines would get you into the mining guilds, and from there, a steady climb to respect and wealth. Hard, but not hopeless.
But you were not sent to the mines.
Whether an error, or just another underhanded calculation by your uncle, you and your kin were sent to the surface, where slavery amongst the humans meant something far more despondent. In Gythmas' Hammah you were separated, and you alone were brought to the blue-sand shores of Xauchaka. The blinding sun beats down on the slave markets of the city, oppressive like a massive unblinking eye staring at you with hate and fury, and you feel alone in it's sweltering glare, with nary a friend or family member to offer you comfort. Your fellow slaves, through equally frightened, take no interest in your suffering, while potential owners take, perhaps, too much interest.
A dwarf such as yourself might be a prized artisan and craftsman... but someone had decided that they have a better use for your body.
- A merchant prince, looking for a new sex toy.
- A local warlord, seeking a robust consort, to give him strong children
- A traveling adventurer, on the lookout for a traveling companion, with the promise of freedom for service well spent.
Traveling the rode alone is a dangerous gamble, even having just one more set of eyes can be the difference in reaching your destination in one piece, and ending up with a shiv in your neck. With that in mind, you've reached out to a former party member, for help with one final task, lest it be forgotten in the dust of time. You were both members of the same Adventuring guild, the Circle of Blade and Fire, and at the very least, know him to be reliable in a pinch.
Perhaps you were good friends. Maybe you barely spoke, but he's the only one you can get a hold of. Maybe there were feelings unspoken and left unacted upon, before you parted ways. Or maybe you've never officially met, and he's a friend of your father's, or brother's, or just a friend of a friend, and you've been told he can be trusted.
Of all my current plots, this one would be the most nebulous and long-term, requiring some basic brainstorming on the quest our characters are out to complete, and on the characters themselves.
Perhaps you were good friends. Maybe you barely spoke, but he's the only one you can get a hold of. Maybe there were feelings unspoken and left unacted upon, before you parted ways. Or maybe you've never officially met, and he's a friend of your father's, or brother's, or just a friend of a friend, and you've been told he can be trusted.
Of all my current plots, this one would be the most nebulous and long-term, requiring some basic brainstorming on the quest our characters are out to complete, and on the characters themselves.
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