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Salt-In-The-Wound
Planetoid
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2023
Grant me Dominion. Grant me Power. Grant me that which should be mine. Grant me armies to take it.
Thus spoke the King, draped in Brocade and Silk. For his veins ran with Gold and Wine, and of his own belief, decided that the rewards of gentle rulership shall be in the land of his constituents. Echelons of pike and lance and bow marched into the foreign land, and the noble conquest was frustrated. The gleaming plate was dented, the noble banner frayed and torn, and the bugler's brass horn's profound call was reduced to a clarion screech.
The King was too possessed by a capacity for Industry to be properly cruel: To be so joyful about the taking of life, to be eager of conquest. The King only thought about the leagues of new pastures extending out into the horizon, and his merciful iron fist milking gold from his new subjects.
He could not, by his own mechanisms, achieve his desires. He concluded that there must be another man who could. No-one who resided in the Kingdom, though. The war was as a mire, and The King could not pull any of his countrymen from it. None within could bring him victory, he needed someone from beyond.
Bring me a man with salt and fire in his blood! Bring me a slayer of men! Bring me a man of scarred flesh and knotted muscle, a man who finds joy in violence, and thrill in the unmaking of things!
So, he called forth a foreign man, who could unmake The King's enemies, and bring him what he desired.
Nikodemas Kasparas enjoyed battle.
He did not tolerate battle for the purpose of service or gold, no, Nikodemas Kasparas loved to fight. He was enamored with killing, slaughter was his muse. He was Tone Deaf in every regard but that of din of battle.
Nikodemas was not a man who had ever known much in the way of compassion, and thus he was not the type of man who often expressed it. His Father was dead by the time he was born and his mother had no affection for him. He was raised by freebooters, and when he became a man, he was given the gift of a blade. 4 feet of polished, stern steel—was like a dagger in his hands.
Nikodemas was a giant of a man. He stood at eight feet tall, and weighed almost forty stone. The weight that he carried was in hard sinew, flesh, and muscle. He was more like a bull than a man. His hair was black, and fell in waves around his shoulders, and his face was always adorned with stubble. Scars littered his body, but even the most grievous ones seemed small in comparison to his immense height. The skin of his flesh was white—white not as snow but as aged parchment, browned slightly by the sun. His face was never joyful—happy, perhaps, but with the same countenance that a wolf was happy; that a bear was happy. Most of the time he wore a scowl, and his irises were black as a stone mirror—as if to deny an observer any sort of clearance into his soul. His voice was a baritone growl—sometimes echoing the noble brutality of a lion and at other times the sadistic hiss of a tiger.
Nikodemas summoned no magnificence: Only Dread. The air soured in his presence. It was said that his footsteps fell to the drumbeats of hell. The rumor was that he was born of no mortal union, but of that of a sorceress and a caprine beast from beyond the pale.
When the King made him a knight, and gave to him his own estate, he embraced this reputation. His heraldry was without pomp, sable a ram head argent—The bone-white head of a ram on a black field. He flew his standard above that of The King's—a grand subordination, but an effective one. His banner meant death, and the foes he fought felt great terror at his blazon.
The war was one, and the great brute clad in steel that would crush a lesser man returned to the Capital, and returned to the king. The demon had made his end of the contract, and now the king would have to make his. The estate he had been granted was promised to him and his progeny, and expanded. Gold and Jewels and abundance were expended to him, but there was one more thing that he desired: Station. To continue to serve, to hound at the heels of the king, that he might be well fed, and suckle the wine and gold from his veins.
Nikodemas was given station: A respectable station, but one of no great power. For the youngest heir of The King—still a woman grown, but junior to her siblings—was issued Nikodemas as an escort, one to follow her around, relay her orders to her maids in waiting, and ensure that no harm could befall her.
Many a courtier, groomsmen and maid cried foul at this appointment: "Do not let her be assailed! You are setting a wolf to guard your lamb, and you shall return to pasture to find only bones!"
Perhaps, the king did fear—but he thought not much of it. He believed that so long as he kept the wolf feed, it would not need feel the need to hunt among his herd.
The king could never have expected the result, though. The first few days Nikodemas was in the company of the princess, he was stoic. Not a far cry from his usual self, and seemed to be take to his station well.
On the fourth day of his service to her, he presented her with a gift: A single ruby, cut and polished. An unprecedented behavior from the giant, a gift? He had only ever taken—and that was fine, he was paid to take things—and now he was given? Something of great value as well…
…greater than any might know. For when the King of the conquered land resisted the invaders at his palace, he was cut down by Nikodemas, and his crown secreted away. Over the course of a year, Nikodemas would give the whole crown to his princess: piece by piece.
At first it was token affections—quite literally—small trinkets of bronze and bone at first, decorative carvings inlaid in them. Then they became larger ornaments. A pomander full of mace and rosemary, a bottle of plum brandy from the brute's own homeland, and an exceptionally un-ladylike dagger with a long clip-point blade, a broad guard, and an ivory handle covered in scrimshaw.
These were just things, though. Things given by this mass of brutality to a ward he was to guard to secure her trust in him, as was his duty. That was what the King believed, but things escalated from there.
After gifts, came services. Without her needing to ask, Nikodemas would bring the princess tea to her liking. He was able to relay commands to servants without as much as a glance from his ward, and most disturbingly, he was graceful. Despite his inconceivable stature, he moved around his princess like water around a stone. Never interrupting or intercepting her, but not dogging at her, not nipping at her heels: He was truly in-sync.
What did that mean, though? Not much, it is good that the escort of the princess knew her habits, understood her desires, knew how best to treat her. What did The King have to worry about?
Intimacies. Tiny ones, but intimacies none-the-less. A whisper in the ear that the brute would have to kneel to receive, the words unknown to court or king. A giant hand held upon her dainty shoulder, just long enough to be intemperate. A certain look in his eyes, reserved for her and her alone—the black mirror of his irises brightening to a mossier blue-green, like a man thrown overboard slowly climbing upwards to the surface of the water.
…A look—and indeed an attitude—he had reserved solely for her. To anyone else he was still the same beast he always was, especially if they ever mentioned the discrepancy there.
The intimacies he shared with the princess were the limit of what the king was willing to tolerate. Courtly love, nothing more and nothing less. The king had permitted his knights to kiss the hand of his queen from time to time, knowing it was solely that, affection a subordinate showed as respect to a lady of high breeding.
There were rumors of more scandalous intimacies. Of her head upon his plated chest, of her form wrapped up in his sable cloak, of a massive hand brushing her hair to the side, trailing down her face and resting his thumb upon her lips, for the faintest of moments…
…And other, far more salacious rumors.
The issue inherent in rumors is that the false ones are appraised the same as the true ones. A single spoiled fruit devalues the entire barrel, and thus the rumors are kept at that, rumor. The king is none-the-wiser, and, at least for now, the princess is his own.
Give me wine, Give me gold, Give me salt, Give me blood, Give me someone to share it all with…
Hello!
To start, this is based off of a plot from my old RT. It was known as "Fuck the King" and it was pretty straightforward. Nikodemas' princess was being married off to a foreign land and he was going to do something about it. To be frank, I just absolutely adore the dynamic between Nikodemas being a massive, hulking brute, and the gentler princess that he is close to. I decided to expand on the idea a little more, and open up the plot to a general prompt that could be taken in different directions. The "Fuck the King" idea still works, but there are now other ways their relationship can develop--ways that don't need to be so dramatic, or so violent.
So, some basic housekeeping. I write in 3rd person, past-tense. My posts vary wildly in length but unless I am writing a massive set-piece of a post I do not see them crossing over 1000 words, and there will never be a point where I drop something out that is less than 200 words. I like to consider myself fairly active, I can get out a post most days, if not several posts a day, but there are periods in which I do not post due to extraneous circumstances. I will be understanding of any breaks or absences you need to take, as I understand that life can be oh-so-busy.
This is supposed to be a smutty rp. I would like to get that out of the way real quick. The smut-to-plot ratio will be around 50:50. I also don't really do slow-burn. Now, I understand that probably turns a lot of people off, and if you are one of those people I apologize--but unless I really like the premise of an RP, it's just sorta boring to me. Not to mention the fact that Nikodemas and The Princess are very much implied to have intimate feelings towards each-other that they cannot make publicly known.As for The Princess herself, I have kept her intentionally vague. In-fact, I went out of my way to make sure that everyone I mentioned in the RT is vague, so you have all the space you need to flex your creative muscles and give them any identity you want. Indeed, you can give them any identity you desire--they do not even have to be necessarily human, they could be some degree of Fantasy Race, a Monster Girl, or, hell, I would be open to hearing proposals for an Anthro princess. The one thing that I will set in stone is that she needs to be at minimum 20 years of age. I figure her and Nikodemas have been in eachother's lives for 2 years, and considering the intimate relationship they share, I would feel uncomfortable if they were acquainted before she was an adult.
Now, to touch briefly on kinks. There will be a proper kink-list pasted later down in this RT but I want to touch on some big ones--Kinks that while not dealbreakers are absolutely big ones I would like to see front-and-center. For one thing, size difference. Nikodemas is absolutely huge--8 feet tall. Even if the princess is tall comparable to most humans, she will be small in comparison to Nikodemas. Nikodemas will have a very large penis, no smaller than 12 inches in length. My maximum length is 30 inches, I simply cannot conceive of the operations of a larger dick. Excessive cum is a big one, for sure. Finally, I very much prefer female characters to be curvaceous. Really, as curvaceous as you can tolerate. I'm not into hyper, though.
Here is the Kink-List. After this will be a list of potential plot threads.
KINKS | LIMITS |
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PLOT THREADS! |
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