Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Exemplary Characters
But exemplary of what?
- Joined
- Mar 16, 2024
-
I write pornography in a fantasy setting with a story. I write filthily and I write well.
Anonymous former partner said:
Are you interested? Then click through these slides to learn the essentials. My currently available characters are below.VikingWitch said: -
- English language only.
- All website rules need to be followed.
- 18+ characters only, no exceptions.
- I will not write sexual scenes involving bodily waste, non-consent, torture, cannibalism, death, or paedophilia. I do not wish to discuss these things.
- Communication is mandatory! If there's an issue, talk to me about it, and we can try to find a compromise. Life comes first and I'm really laid back, so if you have problems, just tell me and we'll figure it out.
- Boundaries are mandatory! If I explicitly say no to something, and you include it anyway, we're going to have words.
-
- You're going to need a basic level of literacy for us to get on well. No judgement, I started out struggling to write sentences, but for me to have fun you need to have a fundamental degree of storytelling fluency when it comes to writing a character. If you struggle to write simple sentences, we're not a good match.
- I expect my partners to make an effort to write well. I don't expect your grammar to be perfect, I don't expect you to be able to write out a novel on demand, but I do expect you to make an effort. You'll get as much from me as you put into it.
- I don't put out paragraphs every time - sometimes a sentence will do the job. On average I write a good few paragraphs for each post. Do not feel you need to match what I put out, but do write enough to cover what you want to say.
- I write in third person past tense by default these days, but I can also write third person present tense. You must write in third person, and agree the tense with me before we start.
- I write from the perspective of an omniscient narrator. I enjoy "GMing" scenes with my collaborators (and I'm very good at it), so talk with me about boundaries for describing your character.
- If you want me to help you with your writing or storytelling, let me know. I'm a good teacher.
-
The following is an introductory post I wrote for a role-play with a friend. Their character was called Veridian, and I was setting up the scene for them. It gives you an illustration of both the standard I typically write to, and how I write content around my partner's characters (with permission) when setting the stage for their replies.
Travelling has afforded Veridian many novel experiences, not all of them easy, but certainly all of them memorable. As a woman of the road she makes her living however she can, and one of the easiest has been to sell her companionship to whoever has the coin for as long as she can bear their company. Being a tiefling – distantly descended from some infernal being – has meant that she is desired by many people, her novelty enough to turn heads and stir passions even before people take measure of her considerable beauty. But that same dark novelty translates to prejudice, and so it is more honest to say that she sells her companionship to whoever has the coin for as long as they will tolerate her ancestry.
No, her journey has not been easy. But now she finds herself in an unusual situation, one threatening to be quite memorable indeed.
A week ago she was visited in her camp by a young man, handsome enough if plain in demeanour, who brought with him a small bag of gold. She opened her caravan to him expecting that he wanted what all men who visit her want, but then he surprised her by declining to step inside. He explained that he was visiting her on behalf of another, someone who wished to arrange a protracted affair but who could not join her in camp. If she was prepared to go to meet them she would be very well rewarded for her company; the gold he carried was an introduction, a taster of what was on offer.
Of course she took the gold. As for her questions, however, he offered few answers. The person he was visiting for had reason to be discreet. He would not describe them, save to say that they were wealthy and specifically interested in her, though why her specifically remained vague. The only point he was adamant about was that they were not avoiding visiting her publicly out of regard for their reputation being damaged by association with her – he stressed this with some emphasis.
There was little else productive to discuss; he gave the location and left. After he had gone, Veridian counted the gold, some three hundred pieces, scoured it to make sure it was real, even looked it over with her mystical sight. The coins were true. But was the offer?
The question nagged at Veridian for two days, until eventually she relented and packed up her caravan. -
These vary a little for each character, with some things under "Yes" or "Maybe" becoming "Favourites" with them. Everything listed as a "No" is never acceptable. If your interest isn't listed, don't be afraid to reach out and ask, as the worst I'll do is politely turn you down.
FavouritesYesMaybeNoAnal Sex
Casual Sex
Cunnilingus
Facial
Fellatio
Frotting
Inhuman Anatomy
Internal Ejaculation
Kissing
Knotting / Tying
Licking
Mammary Sex
Masturbation
Multiple Orgasms
Multiple Partners
Multiple Penetration
Pegging
Rimming
Romantic Sex
Rough Sex
Squirting
Tribadism
Vaginal Sex
Beings:
Human
Anthropomorphic (Dragon / Reptile)
Demon / Devil
Dragon
Monster (Ask)
Vampire
Genders:
Effeminate Male
Female
Queer GendersAnal Virginity
Biting
Breast / Nipple Play
Clothed
Exhibitionism
Inexperienced Partner
Intercrural
Large Penis
Magic
Milking Semen
Oral Virginity
Orientation Play
Prostitution
Rope Bondage
Scratching
Small Penis
Swallowing Semen
Throat Penetration
Vaginal Virginity
Very Experienced Partner
Voyeurism
Beings:
Anthropomorphic (Arachnid / Insect)
Anthropomorphic (Avian)
Anthropomorphic (Canine)
Elf
Ghost / Shade
Undead
Genders:
MaleBlindfoldedFear
Breeding
Disobedient Slave
Drawing Blood
Enforced Chastity
Master/Mistress and Pet
Messy
Swallowing Blood
Transformation
Beings:
Anthropomorphic (Ask)
DivinityPaedophilia
Death / Snuff
Torture
Nonconsensual
Scat / Watersports
Vore
Queer Female Characters
(Women who have penises.)
Athil Cerulea, the Zepherous and Understated Cartel Boss
There are many stories about the Tranquil Mask, none of them honest, all of them true.
They say she was born beneath a foreign sky, and drifted into the city on a sultry summer wind. They say she made a name for herself by being unseen. They say she never hurt anyone. They say hundreds disappeared the night she came to power. They say she has never sold opium, but everyone buys from her. They say no one works for her, yet she owns the city. They say the nobles are afraid of her, and that she receives an invitation to all of their soirées. They say she is kind to common people. They say her associates are wicked and cruel. They say she has no enemies. They say the city guards always know where to find her. They say no one really knows anything about her.
And, most importantly, they say she knows what they say.
Cartel Leader
For years the gangs and criminal guilds fought tooth and nail in the alleyways, tirelessly contested by servants of the law. Then – almost overnight – the Black Dust Cartel came to power within the city, and everything changed. Opium flooded the streets, prominent businesses came under new management, and violent crime all but disappeared. In the blink of an eye the most notorious lawbreakers vanished, never to be seen again, while even the most vocal lawmakers became studiously unconcerned with crimes of tax evasion and narcotics trafficking. And in the months that followed, the indifferent aristocracy suddenly began investing in public works, pointedly encouraged by agents of the cartel.
No one who remains will explain how it came to pass, but everyone knows who is responsible. The Tranquil Mask, Athil Cerulea, changed the fortunes of the city as she took control, transforming a moribund polity in decline into a vibrant centre for opium distribution. For this she is loved by many, and feared by many more.
Behind the Mask
Although highly formidable in many ways, Athil Cerulea's natural appearance is far from intimidating, her remarkable height undercut by her long, willowy limbs and airy grace. Her ethereal, undeniable femininity disadvantages her in a profession built by violent men. Even her voice, so soft and sibilant, does not readily convey her words with the gravitas appropriate to a ruthless leader of an opium cartel.
But Athil wields spectacle with razor precision. Beneath bulky yet refined clothing she hides her slender figure, while a mask covers her youthful countenance well enough to inspire uncertainty, even dread. As for her voice, she has found that whispers are more intimidating than any shout, especially when carried further than they ought to be heard.
Daughter of the Sky
Few know that Athil is a sylph: she prefers her lineage remain obscure, having long ago learned the advantage in mystery. Despite this, her inner circle have noticed her affinity for all things zephyrous. Around her the very air comes alive, dancing and playing according to her whim, carrying her every syllable exactly as far as she intends, even raising her aloft in moments of passion. To her closest lovers she describes the wind as a living thing, its every mood palpable to her, each breeze more physical and real to her than the earth on which other people are forced to stand.
Her confidants sometimes joke that Athil is as unpredictable as the wind. But when they do, they do so quietly. For all that she is magnanimous toward the ordinary men and woman of the city, even extravagant to her paramours, in matters of business she is severe. And she is unforgiving toward those who abuse her trust. That her private, hedonistic appetites often blur the boundary between professional and personal for her favoured subordinates is a ongoing source of tension to them.
Child of Fortune
While she seldom speaks about her childhood, her attitudes and habits provide small glimpses of the struggles she endured. Her penchant for luxury and opulence and frequent disdain for nobles who take them for granted tell that she grew up in abject poverty. Her enmity toward those who discriminate based on parentage and pedigree is well known within her organisation, and suggest that she lived in the margins of human society as an outcast. Whether this was because of her social class or because of her unearthly ancestry is unclear, but regardless, she welcomes the company and business of rich and poor, whether human or non-human.
Although her accent is faintly exotic, none can place it. Her involvement with the cartel prior to arriving in the city suggests she comes from the distant, hot south, and her habit of sitting in the shade even on cold days supports this. The rope knots she ties in the bedroom also hail from that region, but the same style is used by kidnappers throughout her organisation, and she likely learned it after beginning her career in organised crime.
The Black Dust Cartel
The Black Dust Cartel began as two separate criminal groups based in the faraway south, one focused on opium production, the other on smuggling. The smuggling gang ran minor routes through the vast eastern deserts to distant locations, but the harshness of the dunes, the length of their journeys, and the significant travel time made their ventures unprofitable for perishable goods, confining their operations to high value materials that were imperishable.
All of this changed when the opium gang developed a reversible alchemical treatment to reduce processed opium into inert black dust, allowing its transport across extremely long distances without spoilage or deterioration. Sensing opportunity, both gangs joined forces to flood distant lands with opium, and when their operations proved insanely profitable they merged into a cartel, soon named by outsiders after the source of their wealth.
A major advantage of the titular black dust is that it is utterly non-reactive and harmless unless subject to a specific treatment, and the process of treating it is a closely guarded secret by the cartel. This renders their product very difficult to detect during transport, able to be stored in a multitude of places that would otherwise not be possible. It also makes their convoys virtually impossible to hijack to productive ends: opium under transport by the cartel is useless if stolen.
The consequentially immense success of the cartel allowed them to aggressively expand into more traditional smuggling routes, and so expand their range of smuggled goods correspondingly. As they have grown in power they have spread their network throughout the south and into states both near and far, including into the city, the prior decline of which allowed them set up discrete poppy fields and establish a black market trade hub.
While it nominally controls the city, under the Tranquil Mask's leadership the cartel exerts little influence on common criminality, but rather allows crime to transpire on a subcontracted basis. The cartel does not care about thieves, pickpockets, and other street-level entrepreneurs, so long as they pay a nominal fee for territory rights. Criminal gangs that wish to fight each other for territory rights are welcome to do, so long as they keep their violence out of public and each pay the cartel for what they claim.
The sole exceptions to this forbearance are the drug trade and the kidnapping business: no one may engage in these activities within the cartel's approval and involvement. Those who commit such crimes without being on good terms with the cartel receive one, and only one, warning.
Themes and Sexuality
I am in the process of working out the themes that underlie Athil Cerulea through play, so this section is necessarily incomplete. The tension between the licit and the illicit is a major focus of the character, as is the tension between what is presented and what is concealed. This latter theme is especially apparent in the fact that Athil hides her species and appearance to better fit what is expected of her in terms of presentation, as well as her ambiguously feminine presentation in the eyes of some as a woman who has a penis. I expect to flesh this section out substantially after I play the character for the first time.
There are many stories about the Tranquil Mask, none of them honest, all of them true.
They say she was born beneath a foreign sky, and drifted into the city on a sultry summer wind. They say she made a name for herself by being unseen. They say she never hurt anyone. They say hundreds disappeared the night she came to power. They say she has never sold opium, but everyone buys from her. They say no one works for her, yet she owns the city. They say the nobles are afraid of her, and that she receives an invitation to all of their soirées. They say she is kind to common people. They say her associates are wicked and cruel. They say she has no enemies. They say the city guards always know where to find her. They say no one really knows anything about her.
And, most importantly, they say she knows what they say.
Cartel Leader
For years the gangs and criminal guilds fought tooth and nail in the alleyways, tirelessly contested by servants of the law. Then – almost overnight – the Black Dust Cartel came to power within the city, and everything changed. Opium flooded the streets, prominent businesses came under new management, and violent crime all but disappeared. In the blink of an eye the most notorious lawbreakers vanished, never to be seen again, while even the most vocal lawmakers became studiously unconcerned with crimes of tax evasion and narcotics trafficking. And in the months that followed, the indifferent aristocracy suddenly began investing in public works, pointedly encouraged by agents of the cartel.
No one who remains will explain how it came to pass, but everyone knows who is responsible. The Tranquil Mask, Athil Cerulea, changed the fortunes of the city as she took control, transforming a moribund polity in decline into a vibrant centre for opium distribution. For this she is loved by many, and feared by many more.
Behind the Mask
Although highly formidable in many ways, Athil Cerulea's natural appearance is far from intimidating, her remarkable height undercut by her long, willowy limbs and airy grace. Her ethereal, undeniable femininity disadvantages her in a profession built by violent men. Even her voice, so soft and sibilant, does not readily convey her words with the gravitas appropriate to a ruthless leader of an opium cartel.
But Athil wields spectacle with razor precision. Beneath bulky yet refined clothing she hides her slender figure, while a mask covers her youthful countenance well enough to inspire uncertainty, even dread. As for her voice, she has found that whispers are more intimidating than any shout, especially when carried further than they ought to be heard.
Daughter of the Sky
Few know that Athil is a sylph: she prefers her lineage remain obscure, having long ago learned the advantage in mystery. Despite this, her inner circle have noticed her affinity for all things zephyrous. Around her the very air comes alive, dancing and playing according to her whim, carrying her every syllable exactly as far as she intends, even raising her aloft in moments of passion. To her closest lovers she describes the wind as a living thing, its every mood palpable to her, each breeze more physical and real to her than the earth on which other people are forced to stand.
Her confidants sometimes joke that Athil is as unpredictable as the wind. But when they do, they do so quietly. For all that she is magnanimous toward the ordinary men and woman of the city, even extravagant to her paramours, in matters of business she is severe. And she is unforgiving toward those who abuse her trust. That her private, hedonistic appetites often blur the boundary between professional and personal for her favoured subordinates is a ongoing source of tension to them.
Child of Fortune
While she seldom speaks about her childhood, her attitudes and habits provide small glimpses of the struggles she endured. Her penchant for luxury and opulence and frequent disdain for nobles who take them for granted tell that she grew up in abject poverty. Her enmity toward those who discriminate based on parentage and pedigree is well known within her organisation, and suggest that she lived in the margins of human society as an outcast. Whether this was because of her social class or because of her unearthly ancestry is unclear, but regardless, she welcomes the company and business of rich and poor, whether human or non-human.
Although her accent is faintly exotic, none can place it. Her involvement with the cartel prior to arriving in the city suggests she comes from the distant, hot south, and her habit of sitting in the shade even on cold days supports this. The rope knots she ties in the bedroom also hail from that region, but the same style is used by kidnappers throughout her organisation, and she likely learned it after beginning her career in organised crime.
The Black Dust Cartel
The Black Dust Cartel began as two separate criminal groups based in the faraway south, one focused on opium production, the other on smuggling. The smuggling gang ran minor routes through the vast eastern deserts to distant locations, but the harshness of the dunes, the length of their journeys, and the significant travel time made their ventures unprofitable for perishable goods, confining their operations to high value materials that were imperishable.
All of this changed when the opium gang developed a reversible alchemical treatment to reduce processed opium into inert black dust, allowing its transport across extremely long distances without spoilage or deterioration. Sensing opportunity, both gangs joined forces to flood distant lands with opium, and when their operations proved insanely profitable they merged into a cartel, soon named by outsiders after the source of their wealth.
A major advantage of the titular black dust is that it is utterly non-reactive and harmless unless subject to a specific treatment, and the process of treating it is a closely guarded secret by the cartel. This renders their product very difficult to detect during transport, able to be stored in a multitude of places that would otherwise not be possible. It also makes their convoys virtually impossible to hijack to productive ends: opium under transport by the cartel is useless if stolen.
The consequentially immense success of the cartel allowed them to aggressively expand into more traditional smuggling routes, and so expand their range of smuggled goods correspondingly. As they have grown in power they have spread their network throughout the south and into states both near and far, including into the city, the prior decline of which allowed them set up discrete poppy fields and establish a black market trade hub.
While it nominally controls the city, under the Tranquil Mask's leadership the cartel exerts little influence on common criminality, but rather allows crime to transpire on a subcontracted basis. The cartel does not care about thieves, pickpockets, and other street-level entrepreneurs, so long as they pay a nominal fee for territory rights. Criminal gangs that wish to fight each other for territory rights are welcome to do, so long as they keep their violence out of public and each pay the cartel for what they claim.
The sole exceptions to this forbearance are the drug trade and the kidnapping business: no one may engage in these activities within the cartel's approval and involvement. Those who commit such crimes without being on good terms with the cartel receive one, and only one, warning.
Themes and Sexuality
I am in the process of working out the themes that underlie Athil Cerulea through play, so this section is necessarily incomplete. The tension between the licit and the illicit is a major focus of the character, as is the tension between what is presented and what is concealed. This latter theme is especially apparent in the fact that Athil hides her species and appearance to better fit what is expected of her in terms of presentation, as well as her ambiguously feminine presentation in the eyes of some as a woman who has a penis. I expect to flesh this section out substantially after I play the character for the first time.
Atleztli, the Vampiric False Goddess
Atleztli (a-tl-ez-tl-i) is an ancient vampire who was at one time worshipped as a goddess. She dwells within the Acan jungle in the ruins of her temple, communing with the Pahatl river as she pursues true divinity, and only emerges to hunt the primitive tribes that once comprised her empire.
Her capacity for deception and mimicry runs deep in her blood; the same vampirism that sustains her corpse permits her to sculpt its flesh. At the height of her hubris she chose to transgress the divide between man and woman, adopted male genitals on her otherwise female body to set her apart from her worshippers. Her epicene sex suits her predatory desires.
Over a millenium spent transcending vampirism has given her unique insights into obscure magical lore. Those who show deference may seek her knowledge, provided they recompense her in kind. Those who cannot should be prepared to offer blood, or otherwise feed her dark passions.
History
Atleztli once belonged to the tribes that inhabit the vast Acan jungle. What memories she retains from that time concern fishing along the Pahatl river, casting her nets into its green depths and passing the hours through ritual song. She does not remember the village that was her home and cannot recall the faces of its people. Half-recollected feelings tell her she was ostracised from them: she cannot think why else she would have done work that traditionally belonged to men, nor can she imagine any other explanation for being alone when she died.
Her death came as cold hands around her neck and burning agony in her lungs. She never saw her attacker. Before she knew the danger she was thrown into the river and dragged down by something swifter than the current. The next night she rose from the depths, hungry for blood.
For decades Atleztli hunted the canopies in darkness and fled to the safety of the water come daybreak. At first the tribes did not know what stalked them and cowered in their homes until the sun climbed into the sky: she was not deterred by their crude dwellings. Soon heroes emerged to seek her destruction with fire and hatchet: she dispatched them easily. Eventually they regarded her with awe and some sought to appease her through murder: she accepted their sacrifices, and listened.
They called her divine and begged she spare them. They named her goddess of the Pahatl river and pleaded that she calm her waters. They implored her to spare their mothers and children and turn her wrath against their enemies.
It pleased her to indulge their requests. She took the name they gave her, having long forgotten her living name, and butchered the people they specified. Soon others learned of her and drowned their unwanted in the river in ever greater numbers; she favoured those who were most devoted in their offerings.
As decades gave way to centuries Atleztli cultivated the mythology that grew around her actions, became the sole goddess of the tribes, and united them in monotheistic worship. At last she commanded her faithful to climb the great Techcatl waterfall, demanded they build her temple amid its raging waters. Many fed her when they fell to their deaths.
When work was complete she went among her chosen and instructed them in rituals and songs that would secure her approval, permitting lesser rites of blood-letting for those who wished to appease her without murder. Once they had grown strong she commanded them to conquer the jungle in her holy name.
The conflict ensured regular feeding. Soon she beheld the rise of an empire to span the entire peninsula, as all those who opposed were converted or drowned in her river. For the first time in history the primitive people knew peace and prosperity. Within years they began to farm the lush banks of the river to support their growing population, raising towns and then cities to glorify their goddess.
In due course the mercurial Atleztli became associated with the changes that swept through the land, forced to mature so that she could continue as an object of worship. To her faithful she became a dualistic deity associated with the solar cycle, goddess of savage death during the night and fertile wisdom during the day, the Pahatl river her sacred body that divided the living from the dead.
As she grew into her role, her blood matured, transformed her river and then her body in defiance of nature. To please her devout she made the river rich and fertile, and to please herself she grew male genitals, set herself apart from the men and women who fed her. Seeking to understand what permitted these changes, she began to study the occult, and posed questions under the pretence of testing her priests.
At the close of her first millennium she had become an undisputed master of esoteric matters, providing wise counsel to those judged worthy enough to approach her inner shrine. Yet Atleztli was not satisfied. Secretly she yearned to uncover the deepest mysteries of her condition, to become the goddess she had long pretended to be.
Looking beyond her empire for the answers she sought, she insisted on all manner of foreign fineries and forbidden texts be secured for her consideration, drove her people to expand beyond the jungle. It was not long before she became totally engrossed in the grimoires her warriors sent back. Obsessed with apotheosis, she began to care less for the problems that threatened her faithful, and ruled over them in orgiastic excess as she prepared to embrace her godhood.
One hundred years later her empire had fallen.
Among the scattered tribes that once more dwell within the Acan jungle, many stories explain the plague and famine that befell them. Certain accounts say that the goddess was prevented from aiding her people through the intervention of foreign gods; others tell how she abandoned them in their hour of need because they did not offer the correct invocations to her; heretical rumour claims she destroyed her people in uncontrollable anger.
The truth is that Atleztli grew less dependent on her people and took their devotion for granted. Sheer indifference to their plight caused her to drift away, receding deep into her temple to pursue her occult studies.
Over three hundred years have passed since the vampire withdrew from the world. For months she communes with the river and contemplates the subtle lore that holds the secret to her ascension. On rare occasions she visits those few communities that still worship in her name, answers prayers until she inevitably grows bored and elects to hunt them under the moonlight. She is still the savage who emerged from the water hungry for blood, only now she has other, darker passions.
Themes and Sexuality
Atleztli represents savage majesty. Both the majesty inherent in animal predation and the savagery inherent in rulership find expression through her moods, whether she chases prey through her dark jungle homeland or holds court within her ruined temple. Awe - in the original meaning - unites these seemingly contradictory motifs together, as she demands reverence, fear and dread from her partners. That she is capable of inspiring this complex emotion without resorting to trickery suggests that she might yet become what she pretends to be.
As a vampiress masquerading as a goddess, Atleztli is comfortable deceiving her partners on multiple levels. Her undead body masquerades as one of the living; her imperfect immortality masquerades as divinity; her hungers masquerade as divine retribution or favour. Even her sex is deceptive, appearing outwardly feminine while hiding masculine genitalia. Each deception incorporates transgression in some form, whether against nature, piety or heteronormative gender, and that is how the vampiress relates to the world. She seeks to attain godhood through transgressive deception, and in doing so elevates her desires to become holy, rather than selfish.
In keeping with these themes and the background written to support them, I believe Atleztli is best played within her natural element. She belongs within the Acan jungle, stalking the Pahatl river; I will only consider other settings if they can emphasise her character in new and interesting ways. It has also been my experience that she works best in scenes where she acts as either predator or ruler, assuming dominance over her partners, although I think it could be interesting to set her against an equal or rival. Note that, since her sexuality is implicitly tied to her ferocity and will to power, she is unlikely to show vulnerability to her partners.
Despite Atleztli's background as a vampiress necessarily including violence and death, I am unwilling to explicitly include either in sexual scenes. While I am comfortable with erotic scenes threatening violence for the sake of sexual frisson, I draw a clear distinction between sensual and violent content. I am happy to discuss and negotiate the boundaries of content before and during scenes.
Atleztli (a-tl-ez-tl-i) is an ancient vampire who was at one time worshipped as a goddess. She dwells within the Acan jungle in the ruins of her temple, communing with the Pahatl river as she pursues true divinity, and only emerges to hunt the primitive tribes that once comprised her empire.
Her capacity for deception and mimicry runs deep in her blood; the same vampirism that sustains her corpse permits her to sculpt its flesh. At the height of her hubris she chose to transgress the divide between man and woman, adopted male genitals on her otherwise female body to set her apart from her worshippers. Her epicene sex suits her predatory desires.
Over a millenium spent transcending vampirism has given her unique insights into obscure magical lore. Those who show deference may seek her knowledge, provided they recompense her in kind. Those who cannot should be prepared to offer blood, or otherwise feed her dark passions.
History
Atleztli once belonged to the tribes that inhabit the vast Acan jungle. What memories she retains from that time concern fishing along the Pahatl river, casting her nets into its green depths and passing the hours through ritual song. She does not remember the village that was her home and cannot recall the faces of its people. Half-recollected feelings tell her she was ostracised from them: she cannot think why else she would have done work that traditionally belonged to men, nor can she imagine any other explanation for being alone when she died.
Her death came as cold hands around her neck and burning agony in her lungs. She never saw her attacker. Before she knew the danger she was thrown into the river and dragged down by something swifter than the current. The next night she rose from the depths, hungry for blood.
For decades Atleztli hunted the canopies in darkness and fled to the safety of the water come daybreak. At first the tribes did not know what stalked them and cowered in their homes until the sun climbed into the sky: she was not deterred by their crude dwellings. Soon heroes emerged to seek her destruction with fire and hatchet: she dispatched them easily. Eventually they regarded her with awe and some sought to appease her through murder: she accepted their sacrifices, and listened.
They called her divine and begged she spare them. They named her goddess of the Pahatl river and pleaded that she calm her waters. They implored her to spare their mothers and children and turn her wrath against their enemies.
It pleased her to indulge their requests. She took the name they gave her, having long forgotten her living name, and butchered the people they specified. Soon others learned of her and drowned their unwanted in the river in ever greater numbers; she favoured those who were most devoted in their offerings.
As decades gave way to centuries Atleztli cultivated the mythology that grew around her actions, became the sole goddess of the tribes, and united them in monotheistic worship. At last she commanded her faithful to climb the great Techcatl waterfall, demanded they build her temple amid its raging waters. Many fed her when they fell to their deaths.
When work was complete she went among her chosen and instructed them in rituals and songs that would secure her approval, permitting lesser rites of blood-letting for those who wished to appease her without murder. Once they had grown strong she commanded them to conquer the jungle in her holy name.
The conflict ensured regular feeding. Soon she beheld the rise of an empire to span the entire peninsula, as all those who opposed were converted or drowned in her river. For the first time in history the primitive people knew peace and prosperity. Within years they began to farm the lush banks of the river to support their growing population, raising towns and then cities to glorify their goddess.
In due course the mercurial Atleztli became associated with the changes that swept through the land, forced to mature so that she could continue as an object of worship. To her faithful she became a dualistic deity associated with the solar cycle, goddess of savage death during the night and fertile wisdom during the day, the Pahatl river her sacred body that divided the living from the dead.
As she grew into her role, her blood matured, transformed her river and then her body in defiance of nature. To please her devout she made the river rich and fertile, and to please herself she grew male genitals, set herself apart from the men and women who fed her. Seeking to understand what permitted these changes, she began to study the occult, and posed questions under the pretence of testing her priests.
At the close of her first millennium she had become an undisputed master of esoteric matters, providing wise counsel to those judged worthy enough to approach her inner shrine. Yet Atleztli was not satisfied. Secretly she yearned to uncover the deepest mysteries of her condition, to become the goddess she had long pretended to be.
Looking beyond her empire for the answers she sought, she insisted on all manner of foreign fineries and forbidden texts be secured for her consideration, drove her people to expand beyond the jungle. It was not long before she became totally engrossed in the grimoires her warriors sent back. Obsessed with apotheosis, she began to care less for the problems that threatened her faithful, and ruled over them in orgiastic excess as she prepared to embrace her godhood.
One hundred years later her empire had fallen.
Among the scattered tribes that once more dwell within the Acan jungle, many stories explain the plague and famine that befell them. Certain accounts say that the goddess was prevented from aiding her people through the intervention of foreign gods; others tell how she abandoned them in their hour of need because they did not offer the correct invocations to her; heretical rumour claims she destroyed her people in uncontrollable anger.
The truth is that Atleztli grew less dependent on her people and took their devotion for granted. Sheer indifference to their plight caused her to drift away, receding deep into her temple to pursue her occult studies.
Over three hundred years have passed since the vampire withdrew from the world. For months she communes with the river and contemplates the subtle lore that holds the secret to her ascension. On rare occasions she visits those few communities that still worship in her name, answers prayers until she inevitably grows bored and elects to hunt them under the moonlight. She is still the savage who emerged from the water hungry for blood, only now she has other, darker passions.
Themes and Sexuality
Atleztli represents savage majesty. Both the majesty inherent in animal predation and the savagery inherent in rulership find expression through her moods, whether she chases prey through her dark jungle homeland or holds court within her ruined temple. Awe - in the original meaning - unites these seemingly contradictory motifs together, as she demands reverence, fear and dread from her partners. That she is capable of inspiring this complex emotion without resorting to trickery suggests that she might yet become what she pretends to be.
As a vampiress masquerading as a goddess, Atleztli is comfortable deceiving her partners on multiple levels. Her undead body masquerades as one of the living; her imperfect immortality masquerades as divinity; her hungers masquerade as divine retribution or favour. Even her sex is deceptive, appearing outwardly feminine while hiding masculine genitalia. Each deception incorporates transgression in some form, whether against nature, piety or heteronormative gender, and that is how the vampiress relates to the world. She seeks to attain godhood through transgressive deception, and in doing so elevates her desires to become holy, rather than selfish.
In keeping with these themes and the background written to support them, I believe Atleztli is best played within her natural element. She belongs within the Acan jungle, stalking the Pahatl river; I will only consider other settings if they can emphasise her character in new and interesting ways. It has also been my experience that she works best in scenes where she acts as either predator or ruler, assuming dominance over her partners, although I think it could be interesting to set her against an equal or rival. Note that, since her sexuality is implicitly tied to her ferocity and will to power, she is unlikely to show vulnerability to her partners.
Despite Atleztli's background as a vampiress necessarily including violence and death, I am unwilling to explicitly include either in sexual scenes. While I am comfortable with erotic scenes threatening violence for the sake of sexual frisson, I draw a clear distinction between sensual and violent content. I am happy to discuss and negotiate the boundaries of content before and during scenes.
Loriswen Calaer, the Elven White Witch
The white witch Loriswen Calaer is one of the fabled inya vee' hanwa, combining the male generative organ with the supreme femininity cultivated by elven maidens. From this sexual dichotomy she has learned to draw significant magical power, and her mastery of elven lore allows her to manipulate the natural elements with unparalleled finesse. Her travels take her through the forests and woodland native to her people, but she may also be found refining her art on the sea shore, calling out across the ocean to ancient powers long since lost in the distant West.
Themes and Sexuality
Mystery, dichotomy and awe are themes that Loriswen Calaer embodies. Her mastery of white magic is sublimely mystifying to those who have not been initiated, as are the fertility rites and cultural practices she keeps as an elven inya vee' hanwa. That she is both a being of the light and yet entirely corporeal, feminine and yet masculine, brimming with youthful joy yet replete in her elder wisdom all speak to the contradictions from which she draws her magical power. Her presence among the mortal races and the miracles she works to benefit them inspire awe, as does her beauty, which extends far deeper than the flesh in which her spirit is clothed.
This sense of otherness extends to the encounters she has with her partners. While they may come to know her intimately, and passionately, something about her will always remain beyond, unknowable yet knowing them.
Although her magical inclinations may be of interest to fellow witches and magicians, I find she is best portrayed alongside characters who are ignorant of her magic's workings, better to emphasise the wonder that it invokes. Her strange existence and the path she follows necessarily keep her apart from others in the ultimate sense, but on a more immediate and interpersonal level she enjoys the company of those who show courtesy toward the traditions she follows, as well as those who are ignorant but wish to learn about them. Possible partners include humans and other fantasy races that do not share the longevity and splendour of the elves, as well as fellow elves and half-elves (provided they fit with the assumptions in her background). Dragons, while neither mortal nor elven, are regarded by her as equals, and so she shows far less hesitation and fear toward their embrace than might be expected.
The white witch Loriswen Calaer is one of the fabled inya vee' hanwa, combining the male generative organ with the supreme femininity cultivated by elven maidens. From this sexual dichotomy she has learned to draw significant magical power, and her mastery of elven lore allows her to manipulate the natural elements with unparalleled finesse. Her travels take her through the forests and woodland native to her people, but she may also be found refining her art on the sea shore, calling out across the ocean to ancient powers long since lost in the distant West.
Themes and Sexuality
Mystery, dichotomy and awe are themes that Loriswen Calaer embodies. Her mastery of white magic is sublimely mystifying to those who have not been initiated, as are the fertility rites and cultural practices she keeps as an elven inya vee' hanwa. That she is both a being of the light and yet entirely corporeal, feminine and yet masculine, brimming with youthful joy yet replete in her elder wisdom all speak to the contradictions from which she draws her magical power. Her presence among the mortal races and the miracles she works to benefit them inspire awe, as does her beauty, which extends far deeper than the flesh in which her spirit is clothed.
This sense of otherness extends to the encounters she has with her partners. While they may come to know her intimately, and passionately, something about her will always remain beyond, unknowable yet knowing them.
Although her magical inclinations may be of interest to fellow witches and magicians, I find she is best portrayed alongside characters who are ignorant of her magic's workings, better to emphasise the wonder that it invokes. Her strange existence and the path she follows necessarily keep her apart from others in the ultimate sense, but on a more immediate and interpersonal level she enjoys the company of those who show courtesy toward the traditions she follows, as well as those who are ignorant but wish to learn about them. Possible partners include humans and other fantasy races that do not share the longevity and splendour of the elves, as well as fellow elves and half-elves (provided they fit with the assumptions in her background). Dragons, while neither mortal nor elven, are regarded by her as equals, and so she shows far less hesitation and fear toward their embrace than might be expected.
Gender Nonconforming Characters
Strevathea, the Psychic Mage
Gender long ago ceased to be a concern for Strevathea. Perhaps if they had been born an ordinary human they would have fallen into a more conventional gender role, but they had no such fortune. Strevathea has all the seeming of a demon, and spends most of their life hiding their true appearance and assuming forms that will be better accepted by the people they move among. You might meet them as a friendly if distractible scholar, or a roguish peddler, or an elf of the woodlands. They might be the familiar face you pass on the street and know to wave to, but know little about.
In their natural form, Strevathea has a passing semblance to a human: a head of long and sheer black hair, a lithe torso, two arms and two legs. But their skin is a faded gold glittering with a crystal patina, their fingertips end in nails that are more like dark claws, their feet are digitigrade and taloned, a whip-like tail curls through the air behind them, and atop their head are two great horns made of living crystal in sparkling emerald hues. Most marvellous of all are their eyes, their glimmer the same as their horns, their pupils slit like those of a reptile. To most they are a figure of infernal fright, even before their occult power becomes apparent by the arcane, geometric tattoos across their body.
As a creature of natural psychic ability, Strevathea gets inside people's heads. As a person of significant intelligence, their study of magic has only supplemented this innate aptitude, and together the two strands of eldritch talent have combined to become something more than mere wizardry. They have unnerving and unique power, over themselves, over others, and over the world.
And yet, they do not use it as people might imagine. They wish to live, to be happy, to find acceptance. All their psychic magic is turned to the task of living in peace, of securing safety from a world hostile to their presence. There is a deep, fathomless loneliness at the heart of Strevathea, and no amount of power will ever fill that void, and they know it.
So they shift and shape themselves to be what people expect, and try their best to find connection, however fleeting, however contingent.
Gender and Form
Strevathea's natural form is effeminate irrespective of gender, and when not assuming the appearance of another creature they tend to favour the gender presentation of a woman or a boyish man. To them their gender presentation is completely separate from whichever genitals they choose to have between their legs, though they have a very slight preference for having a penis. They do not have strong preferences for their own gender, and enjoy the bodily pleasures that all combinations of gender can bring.
While Strevathea takes whatever form is convenient, putting on appearances like an ordinary person would put on clothes, they are happiest when accepted in their true form. Those rare few adventurous lovers who have known their true nature have found they are more than willing to be what they want from time to time, but Strevathea has a single hard and fast rule: they will never intentionally take the form of a specific person. While their identity is fluid, it is their own.
Note on Gendered Writing
I write Strevathea with the pronouns that suit whichever gender expression they are currently using. Most often this means they are described as a she, but pronouns can and do change as they change gender during a story. As written above, gender is not a fixed thing for Strevathea.
Themes and Sexuality
Strevathea is about being oneself versus being what others want. An explicit part of this is the freedom that comes with being oneself, but the perils of rejection that come with that territory. Society places its participants into neat categories, and to step outside of them is to inevitably not be understood by the many - and perhaps even feared. You could say this is a fairly obvious metaphor for trans identity, but honestly it's about more than that: it's about everything about ourselves which is not what others expect us to be. Thus Strevathea has a naturally demonic form, but it's not the typical fire and brimstone; they have infernal features, but they are reserved and kind; they possess magic, but it is not the wizardry people understand; they have power, but they do not wield it over others; they can take any form, but the form they most desire is their own. To be truly unique - not an affectation, but genuine novelty - is to struggle with loneliness in the face of expectations.
Sexually, Strevathea is a pansexual switch, but they have boundaries they absolutely will enforce. They are seeking connection, and will try to please people to find it, but they are not lacking in self worth, and so will refuse to be used and abused.
Emily Maguire said:
Gender long ago ceased to be a concern for Strevathea. Perhaps if they had been born an ordinary human they would have fallen into a more conventional gender role, but they had no such fortune. Strevathea has all the seeming of a demon, and spends most of their life hiding their true appearance and assuming forms that will be better accepted by the people they move among. You might meet them as a friendly if distractible scholar, or a roguish peddler, or an elf of the woodlands. They might be the familiar face you pass on the street and know to wave to, but know little about.
In their natural form, Strevathea has a passing semblance to a human: a head of long and sheer black hair, a lithe torso, two arms and two legs. But their skin is a faded gold glittering with a crystal patina, their fingertips end in nails that are more like dark claws, their feet are digitigrade and taloned, a whip-like tail curls through the air behind them, and atop their head are two great horns made of living crystal in sparkling emerald hues. Most marvellous of all are their eyes, their glimmer the same as their horns, their pupils slit like those of a reptile. To most they are a figure of infernal fright, even before their occult power becomes apparent by the arcane, geometric tattoos across their body.
As a creature of natural psychic ability, Strevathea gets inside people's heads. As a person of significant intelligence, their study of magic has only supplemented this innate aptitude, and together the two strands of eldritch talent have combined to become something more than mere wizardry. They have unnerving and unique power, over themselves, over others, and over the world.
And yet, they do not use it as people might imagine. They wish to live, to be happy, to find acceptance. All their psychic magic is turned to the task of living in peace, of securing safety from a world hostile to their presence. There is a deep, fathomless loneliness at the heart of Strevathea, and no amount of power will ever fill that void, and they know it.
So they shift and shape themselves to be what people expect, and try their best to find connection, however fleeting, however contingent.
Gender and Form
Strevathea's natural form is effeminate irrespective of gender, and when not assuming the appearance of another creature they tend to favour the gender presentation of a woman or a boyish man. To them their gender presentation is completely separate from whichever genitals they choose to have between their legs, though they have a very slight preference for having a penis. They do not have strong preferences for their own gender, and enjoy the bodily pleasures that all combinations of gender can bring.
While Strevathea takes whatever form is convenient, putting on appearances like an ordinary person would put on clothes, they are happiest when accepted in their true form. Those rare few adventurous lovers who have known their true nature have found they are more than willing to be what they want from time to time, but Strevathea has a single hard and fast rule: they will never intentionally take the form of a specific person. While their identity is fluid, it is their own.
Note on Gendered Writing
I write Strevathea with the pronouns that suit whichever gender expression they are currently using. Most often this means they are described as a she, but pronouns can and do change as they change gender during a story. As written above, gender is not a fixed thing for Strevathea.
Themes and Sexuality
Strevathea is about being oneself versus being what others want. An explicit part of this is the freedom that comes with being oneself, but the perils of rejection that come with that territory. Society places its participants into neat categories, and to step outside of them is to inevitably not be understood by the many - and perhaps even feared. You could say this is a fairly obvious metaphor for trans identity, but honestly it's about more than that: it's about everything about ourselves which is not what others expect us to be. Thus Strevathea has a naturally demonic form, but it's not the typical fire and brimstone; they have infernal features, but they are reserved and kind; they possess magic, but it is not the wizardry people understand; they have power, but they do not wield it over others; they can take any form, but the form they most desire is their own. To be truly unique - not an affectation, but genuine novelty - is to struggle with loneliness in the face of expectations.
Sexually, Strevathea is a pansexual switch, but they have boundaries they absolutely will enforce. They are seeking connection, and will try to please people to find it, but they are not lacking in self worth, and so will refuse to be used and abused.
Shaelinora, the Queen Beyond the Mirror
There are many ghost stories about the dangers of looking in the mirror at night. Most are told by children to children to scare each other — but there's a glimmer of truth behind them. From time to time a comely young man or woman of particularly effeminate demeanour has found themselves sleepwalking to their mirror, half-awake before its glowing surface, there to answer questions about their dreams and desires. Most wake the next morning without further consequence, half-remembering the odd events.
But a few? They disappear. Many are never seen again. And the ones who return, years later, come laden with fantastical wealth, strange mannerisms, and a youthful complexion that hasn't aged a day.
Not all who step through their reflections become the playthings of Shaelinora, the Queen Beyond the Mirror. The ones who return rarely talk about their experiences. All have had their hearts and loins stolen by the insatiable, possessive monarch, her powerful magic and monstrous countenance both belying her flighty affect. This makes their accounts contradictory, for she is a being of contradictions, horned and fanged and tailed and clawed like a devil, yet with statuesque, womanly beauty that befits a divine. Her great height, four arms, and glass-like skin only serve to further confuse her pets. At once she is both demanding, and kind.
What is she? Demon, angel? Some kind of fey? She laughs at the questions. Perhaps she's an elemental force of playful desire; perhaps she devours the soul along with the heart. All that matters is how she takes, and bestows, bliss.
...Until she grows bored, discarding her old playthings, though not with indifference. Still, there are always more beauties to call beyond the mirror.
Themes and Sexuality
Decadence, luxury, and mothering dominance are the primary themes of Shaelinora. I should also mention: she can change her genitals to suit the tastes of whomever she steals away. Much beyond this, I haven't had opportunity to explore yet. Why not help me?
There are many ghost stories about the dangers of looking in the mirror at night. Most are told by children to children to scare each other — but there's a glimmer of truth behind them. From time to time a comely young man or woman of particularly effeminate demeanour has found themselves sleepwalking to their mirror, half-awake before its glowing surface, there to answer questions about their dreams and desires. Most wake the next morning without further consequence, half-remembering the odd events.
But a few? They disappear. Many are never seen again. And the ones who return, years later, come laden with fantastical wealth, strange mannerisms, and a youthful complexion that hasn't aged a day.
Not all who step through their reflections become the playthings of Shaelinora, the Queen Beyond the Mirror. The ones who return rarely talk about their experiences. All have had their hearts and loins stolen by the insatiable, possessive monarch, her powerful magic and monstrous countenance both belying her flighty affect. This makes their accounts contradictory, for she is a being of contradictions, horned and fanged and tailed and clawed like a devil, yet with statuesque, womanly beauty that befits a divine. Her great height, four arms, and glass-like skin only serve to further confuse her pets. At once she is both demanding, and kind.
What is she? Demon, angel? Some kind of fey? She laughs at the questions. Perhaps she's an elemental force of playful desire; perhaps she devours the soul along with the heart. All that matters is how she takes, and bestows, bliss.
...Until she grows bored, discarding her old playthings, though not with indifference. Still, there are always more beauties to call beyond the mirror.
Themes and Sexuality
Decadence, luxury, and mothering dominance are the primary themes of Shaelinora. I should also mention: she can change her genitals to suit the tastes of whomever she steals away. Much beyond this, I haven't had opportunity to explore yet. Why not help me?
Other
I consider playing characters on request, but it has to be for an idea I really like, so don't get your hopes up.
Thank you for reading. I look forward to hearing from you.
Last edited: