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searching for partners! (M// ONLY)

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Shoegaze

Planetoid
Joined
Jun 30, 2012

          • A ROLEPLAY SEARCH


            • Now, before you decide you want to roleplay with me here's a tiny disclaimer: I'm a busy lady. Between work, school
              and ceremonious partying I often find myself quite tired. That being said, I will participate in our game when I'm in
              the mood
              . Writing is a means of recreation for me, not an obligation, so I ask that you're patient and understanding
              of my assiduous lifestyle. If this doesn't deter you from roleplaying with me than continue reading!

            TO BEGIN

            • psuedo intelluctualism is unwanted
              don't quote my posts please
              I enjoy unusual romance, but it's never necessary
              roleplay venues are thread, skype or email
              I play multiple characters - you will too
              I do not enjoy incest, rape/non-con, BDSM or toilet play
              if romance is involved, f x m and m/ is fine
              CRAVING lycan x human, Far Cry 3, Skyrim

            GENERAL

            • here's some writing samples from me
              • Behemoth was a commandeered Bloodsail vessel mired along one of Tanaris' southernmost beaches. Although the beach itself was sundered, the cog's crew found no difficulty navigating through the heaps and mounds of churned sand and earth left askew by the Destroyer. In fact, they frequented the strand as assumed by the eskers dredged in the sandy knolls, but not to scavenge—to survey.

                Leading the patrol was a bandy troll with biceps the size of barrels. He marched through the remains of the beach flanked by two Sandfury skullsplitters, each dusted in a noticeable veil of sand. “The beach has been empty for weeks, mon,” put in one of the Skullsplitters, “Ain't nobody been 'ere before the Sundering and nobody after, except for us. It's safe, I'd bet my right tusk.”

                “The one dat be missin'?” His partner howled with laughter and pointed, mockingly, at him. “Ya can't bet whatcha ain't got, mon!” Before their bickering worsened, the largest of the trio snorted, meriting the attention of his subordinates.

                “We won't wait any longer, 'den,” he grunted, “Return to Zul'Farrak and summon 'da delegates. If 'da Messiah wants this moot to happen, now is 'da best time.”

                Some hours later, when the sun was at its zenith, the Behemoth was riding the waves northeast of Tanaris, but not so far from Kalimdor that the shores were entirely unnoticeable. The captain—a windburnt troll with flesh toughened by sea spray—shielded his eyes from the sun while his left hand gently passed over the cog’s binnacle. The hand on the compass was teetering north, a direction which he abhorred traveling in—truth be told, naga were as thick as bass in these waters. He had seen many a vessel succumb to their numbers or felled by the seawitches and their ice magic.

                “Captain,” a troll called. He was the very same that lead the patrol on the beach. “Have you seen Vis—”

                The captain spat; chagrin straddled the corner of his lips and forced them into a sour scowl. “Vis’eera? The naga? ‘Aye, the shaman has him workin’. Last I saw, he slithered off the deck into the depths. Gods be good, he’ll stay ‘dere.” The captain, bristling, stroked the length of his tusk as a means of pacification. “Da shaman’s a clever woman, Tazingo, I know dat … but wit ain’t no match for instinct. Ya know dat tinglin’ ya get in your tusks when somethin’ bad s’about ta happen? … Bad juju, mon. Bad juju.”

                Tazingo couldn’t help but to chuckle; his laugh was a hearty laugh, thunderous and good natured. As a response he gently clasped the captain’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring pat. “Maybe ‘da years at sea have made ya a little too salty, mon.”

                “And maybe ‘da years in ‘da dessert have made you too complaisant. Ya never listened to me when was younger and ya ain’t listenin’ to me now.”

                A strident, wet slap on the vessel’s deck caused all heads to turn. Half of the deckhands watched on in horror while others brandished their scabbards and scimitars. “Hold,” Tazingo commanded. The resulting splash had flattened his mohawk against his skull and smeared the warpaint which once daubed his long, prominent nose and well across his cheeks.

                The culprit—the creature that was responsible for provoking a fearsome torrent of seawater—was a naga. His scales, a splendid dyad of cream and coral, glimmered under the sun’s golden fingers as he hoisted himself on the deck. By then the deckhands had retreated to their respective chores, weapons sheathed and horrified miens left nonchalant as they had been before.

                “Vis’eera,” Tazingo beamed, “What’s da verdict?”

                Vis’eera dawdled; he washed his hands over his snout to purge arrant beads of seawater. Everything about him was magnificent, from the length of his spines to his whiskers, each bejeweled in niello and silver. “The naga surrounding Alcaz have agreed to disperse,” Vis’eera reported, “On the agreement that no harm is to befall their fetishes or banners. They have made it quite apparent that the islet is … theirs … and will act accordingly in response to whatever harm befalls their accouterments.”

                When the Messiah first governed Zul’Farrak she allowed the naga exile Vis’eera citizenship. Though the Sandfury bridled over his extrication, she welcomed him with open arms and even entreated him with a seat on her council aside Tazingo, Zul’Farrak’s champion and most notable war veteran during the city’s first siege. As the year transgressed Vis’seera’s affinity for wisdom and obsequious mien earned the people’s trust. He became the Messiah’s adviser and a very close friend.

                While Vis’eera and Tazingo commiserated, the crew began assembling the tools for disembarking. Two trolls hurried up from below deck with a gangplank while others began adjusting the sails accordingly. Like clockwork, the winds caught the sails and inflated them with an unseen fervor.

                “Strange,” Vis’eera began, “I have not seen the waters so still since the Destroyer was felled. It is a queer sight, one I am certainly not opposed to.”

                “It’s strange, I agree,” Tazingo quipped, noting the abandoned island glide into view, “You’ll forgive me for interruptin’ your moment of nostalgia … but where is ‘da Messiah?”


                Vis’eera laughed.

                “Why, she’s already there.”
                They were queer things, dreams; each vivid and nostalgic - Dave often found himself longing to experience them, yet he lacked the biological synapses to bring them fruition. Before Prometheus departed on its voyage, he expressed his interest in dreams to the vessel's lead engineer. Although discreet, he requested that she develop a program that simulated a sequence of visions similar to a human dream. Initially she balked at the request, but his curiosity was enough to inspire her. After being ejected thousands of miles into outer space, a minuscule side project wouldn't hinder their principle directive.

                Mid-though Dave glanced down through the lambent glow of his visor and into a tubular containment pod. Doctor Shaw laid motionless there save for the occasional smile that would pull her lips, likely in response to her dreams. He found himself gravitating to her more than the other passengers - Dr. Holloway seldom dreamt at all and Meredith Vickers' display console was in need of repair. He'd likely commission Ammon to repair it when she awoke from stasis, but he hadn't the slightest clue as to when her, she, or any of the crew. would wake.

                When he grew uninterested in Dr. Shaw's dreams, Dave spent the days circling the recreation room on a bicycle or dabbled in basketball. Though his interests appeared mundane, they kept him quite entertained, and he often went about his chores with a broad smile on his face. His evenings would culminate as most did: with a bowl of a porridge-like nutrient meant to entreat viscosity in his fluids. Ship maintenance was drab so he took to learning languages, one in specific that his superior petitioned him to master. Despite his agenda, Dave managed to have some semblance of fun, sometimes watching 50's films stored in the ship's video archives.

                At first he found himself tentatively counting the weeks that passed, but they steadily became a blur, growing into months and immutable years. Luckily Dad didn't program him to experience boredom or he'd have driven himself mad during the third month.

                Virtually two years, four months and eighteen days later, Dave was making his routine rounds when he happened across something unusual. As he meandered down a corridor the light bleeding from the fixtures overhead caught the moisture in a series of watery footprints. Curious, Dave followed, ending his pursuit in a spacious chamber with fittings that chased shadows into their respective corners. In the dead center of the room was Meredith Vickers, his superior. He eyed her for a moment, deciding against interrupting her fitness regimen - albeit a very misplaced one. He fetched her robe as any loyal servant would, keeping safe distance as not to irk her.

                "Have there been any casualties?" Dave watched her shrug into her robe.

                "Casualties?" he quipped.

                "Has anyone died."

                He half expected her bark, thus, he was equipped with a retort. "No Mom," he replied gently, "Everyone is fine."

                She scoffed. "Then wake them."

                Etched in hard stone on the horizon was the Shrine of Worship, a structure so tall it nearly blotted out the sun if viewed at right angle. It withstood the test of time and the elements, festooned in moss and vines and lichen all atangle. The exile tyrant remembered seeing it for the first time, a majestic construct wrought in runes of the past. Though his hands were fettered and his soles wet and laden in mold, he marveled at its anatomy. That night was black and rain drummed the earth like a dirge heralding his sentence. The aumildar himself escorted Yeaman, the exile tyrant, to the Forbidden Lands to oversee his exile and guarantee that their ventures weren't in vain.

                The rain lashed against Yeaman's face and stung like a thousand tiny needles. He gazed upward, fearful, at the aumildar in his queer ceremonial robe. He wore plate and pauldron alike—an unorthodox attire for a priest—and raised his gloved hands to the black sky. In a flash of white light the fallen bridge rose stone by fallen stone. It was as if hundreds of invisible hands were re-securing each in sequence—first the scaffolding then the stone platforms until the bridge was restored to its ancient glory. "Escort him to the shrine," Yeaman remembered the aumildar command."

                That was the last he saw of the Great Bridge until he crossed it. They robbed him of his consciousness and chaperoned him across the bridge with their tapers and torches and brought him to the summoning chambers as the Shrine's postern at the food of a serpentine stair the climbed into the shrine's highest reaches and ascended into its belly. He awoke then, fetterless, without his weapons, food or water. The great stone cistern he climbed out of had an eerie feel to it and he made haste exploring the remainder of the shrine. Chilled to the bone and half-nude he observed the lofty corridor lined with eight broken stone idols on either side. They laid in ruin as if they'd been pummeled by a stone giant.

                For once, Yeaman un Rusko, a nefarious warlord, usurper and tyrant, was frightened. The idols, the black sky, the lingering and hollow feeling of desolation ... he was but an ant in an empty world that was evidently built for giants.

                That was virtually three years ago. Now Yeaman wore an impressive fur garb crafted from animal pelts and lizard skins. The air of solidarity wasn't quite as menacing as it was during his first year here, but from time to time he found himself pining for what he once had. The men and women he took into his bed, the extortionate meals and most of all, the battle. However, the only battles he found here were those of hunger.

                After a day of hunting he returned to his the Shrine of Worship which was his home for years. He'd cleared out one of the niches where a fallen idols lay and made it into his haunt. He found that night was falling now; the high ceiling in the shrine coupled with the wind made for eerie sounds at night, but Yeaman learned to smother them with his animal pelts and shield himself from the black world outside of his safe haven. Some nights he heard sounds coming from the Summoning Chambers and oft investigated to find absolutely nothing. Some nights they were so loud he brought his weapon with him—a flint spear—for protection, but their was naught a soul or demon in sight.

                When Saxa finished riling up her brothers, Nemetes initiated their duel. She bounded forward on her gaunt, sinewy haunches, lassoing Ammon's waist with every shred of power her muscles were able to summon. She was, however, taken by surprise at Ammon's weight. Whether Ammon planted her feet into the sand or maneuvered her girth into her soles, Saxa was unable to make the Egyptian budge. As per the whispers circulating, she was listless like a statue, stony like a statue and weighed virtually as much as a statue.

                "Cow!" Saxa screamed in her Germanic tongue. She became so frenzied that Ammon, seeking weakness, subdued her in a blink. In a whirl of hair and womanly curves the two combatants trundled into the sand. Saxa hissed and growled, struggling to free herself from Ammon's grasp. The Egyptian choked her spine so tight that she feared it would snap like a heel to a twig. Instead of forfeiting she bit her uneven claws into Ammon's forearm. A grimace tumbled from Ammon initiating muscle retraction; Saxa freed herself, straddling her momentarily dazed contender only to throw a fist at her cheek. It missed - as a result of Ammon's writhing - and connected with her lip. Ammon felt the tender, pursed flesh snap open. Fresh blood, black in the torchlight, began congealing on her cheekbones as subject to splatter.

                The Germans clapped, cheering for Saxa's victory, but the cacophony of foreign chants distracted her. When her attention was diverted Ammon roped her waist and tossed her into the crowd. Nemetes keeled over, cursing during his descent, and Lugo - who was partaking on the last slab of boar - tumbled into a stack of wood. Saxa took a spell to recover but was already stolen by Ammon. After a few moments more Nemetes intervened. Saxa suffered no sores, simply minor bruising from Ammon's grasp whereas Ammon was plagued with fingernail bites and a newly cleaved lip.

                As Saxa wiped the corner of her mouth, she grumbled darkly, but could not help to show her mirth. "Good," she stammered in their common tongue.

                A sea of Germans flooded forth to congratulate Ammon, one lifting her into a friendly embrace. Their agility knocked the wind from her lungs; the relentless spinning did no better. She looked to Agron for saving, entreating him with her marvelous green eyes. "Do not look to him!" one man cried, "You are victor! Victory should be awarded with praise!"
              skype taylore.kane
              email mydearkingdom@hotmail.com
 
RE: searching for partners! (M// ONLY) (don't post yet)


          • ROLEPLAYING GUIDELINES


            • roleplays will be written in third person and past tense
              avoid tense parallels and write actively, not passively
              new paragraph for a new character speaking, ffs ...
              don't break the fourth wall; write expositorily

            CHARACTER GUIDELINES

            • explore ethnicities other than white/Caucasian/European characters
              be unique and descriptive with character creation

              MY FEMALE CHARACTERS
              • My women are typically dominant; they're ambiguous, defiant and are wont to adopt the role of the leader
                or the preponderant beta-female. In a nutshell they're stoic, nonchalant and often a little too complaisant.
                I also like my ladies exotic. I will very rarely play a white/Caucasian woman - they're generally Egyptian,
                Arabian, Indian, South American, Native American or Indo-European (if the roleplay draws from nonfictional
                or historic subject matter). However! I'm more than willing to play any other lady that's classified as spicy or
                exotic! Accents = fuckin' hot.

                For trope examples of my female characters, see Badass Damsel, The Baroness, Beastess, Dark Action Girl, Even the Girls Want Her

                Image examples coming soon.



              MY MALE CHARACTERS
              • To be honest, my males are quite similar to my females. Often loners, they tend to cater to unusually lethargic
                qualities. They lack a filter (like my ladies) and are equally as exotic. They're mostly gentle giants that are
                secretly sexually deprived deviants. I prefer to play my men as manly men - big, masculine, tattooed and scruffy.
                All of the above describes the kind of men I like to play against as well. 

                For trope examples of my male characters see Badass Baritone, The Big Guy, Chick Magnet, Hunk, The Wise Prince

                Image examples coming soon.
 
RE: searching for partners! (M// ONLY) (don't post yet)


          • FANDOMS/SERIES


            • Far Cry 3


              • Jason x Vaas
                Vaas x OC
                Citra x OC

              Borderlands 1, 2


              • Handsome Jack x Mordecai
                Mordecai x OC
                OC x OC

              Spartacus: B&S, Vengeance, GotA, WotD


              • Agron x Nasir
                Agron x Caesar
                Agron x Varro
                Agron x OC
                Caesar x OC
                Varro x OC

              Vikings


              • OC x OC

              Uncharted 1, 2, 3


              • Drake x Flynn
                Drake x Navarro
                Drake x Talbot
                Flynn x Talbot
                Drake x Salim
                OC x Flynn
                OC x Navarro
                OC x Salim
                OC x Talbot

              Skyrim


              • OC x OC

              Final Fantasy XII


              • Bosch x Balthier
                Bosch x Vossler
                Bosch x Gabranth (ONLY INCEST I'LL DO)
                Balthier x Gabranth
                OC x OC

              Shadow of the Colossus


              • OC x OC

              One Piece


              • Trafalgar Law x Rob Lucci
                Rob Lucci x Wiper
                Rob Lucci x Pell
                Pell x Wiper
                Trafalgar Law x Wiper
                OC x Trafalgar Law
                OC x Rob Lucci
                OC x Pell
                OC x Wiper

              World of Warcraft


              • Wrathion x Anduin
                Wrathion x anyone, really ...

              Dragon Age


              • OC x OC

              Mass Effect 1, 2, 3


              • Garrus x Shep
                male EDI x Joker
                Shep x OC
                Garrus x OC
                Thane x OC

 
RE: searching for partners! (M// ONLY) (don't post yet)


          • FANDOM PLOTS


            • Dragon Age: The Culling
              The chantry was in absolute dissaray. With the horror of Grand Cleric Elthina's slaughter still fresh in their minds, Orlesian chantry officials came to a conclusive agreement that the Divine was in danger and thus, spirited her away from Val Royeaux to be safely hidden until the mage/templar war could be culled and Elthina's murderer brought to justice. The Divine's next in command, High Bishop Santos Velasco, was to be her temporary replacement. Much to the bewilderment of Free Marchers and Orlesians alike, Velasco declared a religious war on the Qun the instant he set foot within the Grand Cathedral. Without the Divine's overriding command he was free to do as he pleased and ultimately, a new conflict was born. No longer did Orlesians and Free Marchers concern themselves with simply the mage/templar war, but with a potential war with the qunari as well.

              The Ariqun and Arigena - the Mind and the Soul of the Qun - had concluded that Velasco's twisted servitude to the Maker clouded his judgement; he began dabbling heavily in blood magic and secretly commissioned maleficar and apostate magi to pummel followers of the Qun and altogether pantheist Thedosians into converting to the Andrastian chantry. With the Divine nowhere to be found, magi around Thedas rebelling and Velasco growing more vicious by the day, most could only sit and watch as the Dragon Age grew to be the most historic age ever to be documented by the chantry calender.

              Uncharted: The Life Tree
              Lazarevic escapes Shambala by the skin of his teeth before the cataclysm takes it. Driven by insanity under the influence of the Tree of Life's sap and his previous tyrannical excursions, Lazarevic goes incognito and recruits Atoq Navarro, Eddy Raja, Harry Flynn, Katherine Marlowe and her subordinate, Talbot.

              Lazarevic believes to have found a second Shambala which is significantly more difficult to find, thus he dispatches Flynn to entreat with one of Ramses' affiliates who has knowledge of the second Shambala's existence. He spins lies and claims that it was Nathan Drake who sunk Ramses' vessel and uses it as leverage to recruit his niece, a Muslim pirate and ex treasure hunter. When Drake learns that Lazarevic survived Shambala, he too recruits his old motley crew and races against Lazarevic and his team to recruit her.

              Uncharted: Atlantis of the Sands
              Drake is hired to steal an Arabian artifact from a museum in Yemen. Unbeknownst to him, his employer is very mistrusting and hires Harry Flynn for the same job. The two meet in the middle of the heist and after a brief albeit violent confrontation, the artifact stirs and thrusts the two back in time to the ancient city of Ubar where they meet King Soloman, T.E Lawrence and Sir Francis Drake together. Paired with his most hated enemy and the man who has inspired his life's work, Drake sets off to find a way home, but is unknowingly inscripted to thwart King Soloman and prevent the destruction of Ubar.

              Skyrim: Hircine's Sons
              After an extensive investigation, the Silver Hand invades Whiterun to 'remove' the Companions and their inner circle. The assault razes Whiterun to the ground; surviving Companions, enraged, flee to Skyrim's northern reaches to nurse their wounds and regroup. Months later they reemerge as a new superpower, spreading their curse around Skyrim simply to spite the Silver Hand and cull their influence.

              As a riposte, the Silver Hand rebuilds Whiterun as an outpost of operations and establishes fortifications throughout southern Skyrim
              to bottleneck the spread of lycanthropy to the rest of Tamriel whereas the New Companions have extended their influence to all of northern Skyrim. Their curse has hamstrung holds in the Reach, Winterhold, the Pale, Hjaalmarch and even Haafingar, using Solitude as a Trojan horse to invite the Silver Hand to free the uninfected, only to have them realize that the New Companions have been manning the horse the entire time.

              Their monopoly on Skyrim has successfully stunted economical growth as well - all trade ships mooring in Windhelm have been forbidden to return to their respective capitals while others are prohibited from extending any means of trade to Skyrim in fear of spreading the curse. A literal war has broken out between the Silver Hand and New Companions, one so catastrophic that it dwarfs the ongoing hostilities between the Storm Cloaks and Imperials.



            ORIGINAL PLOTS & IDEAS

            • Absence of Light modern, abstract, horror, religious, morose
              Balance is the element that keeps the scales of reality at equilibrium. By the year 2013, however, these scales have been tipped immeasurably. The justice system is corrupted; murderers and rapists are allowed to roam free without repercussions. Half of the world lives in riches and comfort, the other near starving, disease-ridden and subjected to poverty. As a result, reality becomes unstable and completely unable to support itself. To rectify this anomaly, surreality, a warped realm that defies all laws of human 
              physics and nature, begins to merge with reality to restore the weight of balance and possibly tip the scales.

              People begin reporting strange happenings - shadows lurking about their homes, friends and family members going missing and the occasional - although extremely gruesome - murder which are becoming more and more frequent. Little do the humans know, surreality is a realm populated by dark - and even seraphic - creatures that lust for destruction and mayhem. Some humans have became cognizant of this event and try to strengthen the veil between the two realms by rectifying wrongs and doing good while others, cultists, seek to completely destroy the veil and bring forth the doom and destruction of the world.


              Empire of the Sun medieval, epic fantasy, religious wars
              Gossamer, a continent sired by the sun god Garuda, ilk to warmth and swelter; the Empire of the Sun.

              Hidden among a labyrinth of islands and archipelagos, Gossamer has somehow managed to blossom into an empire that even the gods envied; A tropical paradise honeycombed in magic and mystery, bestowed with skies as blue as its sea. The indigenous lived in harmony once upon a time, trading among themselves and worshiping Garuda from sunrise to sunset. This earned the jealousy of the drowned god, Tasu’um, a god whose devoted abandoned him when Garuda emancipated Pala from his tyranny. With the aid of a hero from one of Gossamer’s many kingdoms, Garuda cast Tasu’um into the sea as punishment for his avarice. The resulting tidal rendered Gossamer broken. The innermost continent split into three masses while the rest was swept southward, never to be heard from again and with it, the hero who lent his aid to the sun god.

              To prevent Tasu’um from returning, Garuda used the last of his godly essence to seal Tasu’um under what is known today as the Maelstrom, a gargantuan whirlpool in the middle of the southern sea.

              This was centuries ago, when Gossamer was a tranquil state.

              Today, Gossamer is segregated. Its people no longer stand unified and wage war against their neighbors. Among the chaos and calamity a man has risen from exile and seeks to resurrect Tasu’um and manipulate his godly gifts to cast Gossamer back into darkness for wronging him. The people of Gossamer must make a decision as to which is more important: oppressing their brothers or preventing their world from being swallowed by perpetual darkness, never again to see the sun that their empire is renowned for.


              Aegis medieval, fantasy, pirates, adventure, atlantis, race-against-time
              Pala, an archipelago of taboo, desire and immeasurable wealth frowned upon for its unusual sexual practices, open use of recreational narcotics and cult-like activities. To save his people from colonists, the high prophet called upon an ancient force to sink the island, sending it to the oceans depths but protecting it by a powerful shield - which the Palans call Aegis - that preserved the lives of Palans and allowed them to live their lives safely under the waves. This was just a legend, however.

              Centuries following the initial circulation of the legend, two juxtaposing provinces are facing civil war. A neutral order takes it upon themselves to recruit a pirate and monstrous tyrant by pardoning him from prison and utilizing his knowledge of the ocean. They allow him to reassemble his crew and order him to - in return for freeing him from prison - travel to Pala and convince its leader to use their political prowess to thwart the war. At first the pirate is skeptic having only heard legends, but becomes astounded to discovered that Pala is not only real, but it is governed by a messiah that has prophesied the dark and approaching end of the current era.


              Alive elements, personifications, deities




              cheating husband x neighbour modern, romance, smutty
              He's as devoted as any husband should be. When he was in college, he made the mistake of fucking a busty business major during a frat party. They fell in love, or so he believed; six months later they were engaged, another six months, married. He then came to rue the error he made that night.

              The couple are now celebrating their fourth anniversary and life has never been more miserable. His busty business major babe developed into a bitchy businesswoman - she's never home, runs the roads and is constantly harping on her husband. The fights are one-sided - she screams and hollers, he nods "yes dear" and retreats to his garage with his beer and tools.

              After feeling fed up with her ritual abuse, he proposes a divorse. His wife, fearful of an impending seperation, claims that she's with child and the trauma of their divorce could cause her to miscarry. Guilty, the husband agrees to prolong - if not absolve - his notion of separation, but when a new neighbor down the street begins to attract his attention, his wife grows suspicious. Despite her routine clandestine meetings with a co-worker and other adulterous ventures, she'll do anything to keep her claws in her husband.


              lycan x human modern, mild fantasy, smutty
              A cannibalistic lycan is exiled from his community. Cannibalism among lycanthropes inflicts disease, primarily madness, which is extremely infectious. Enraged, the exile creates a pack of cannibalistic lycan zealots just as diseased as their leader and returns to terrorize the castes that exiled him.

              His brother, also an exile among lycanthropes - and a criminal in their eyes, despite his alpha comings - is recruited to thwart his packmate and reassemble old friends to bring his younger brother to his end. Much to his chagrin, a packmate of his abducts a human woman who has contracted the disease from his brother (due to sexual contact) to study her, but comes to learn that the affliction affects humans differently than lycans.

              In addition to strength that rivals that of a lycan, she has become immune to lycanthropy in its entirety. With a potential cure to lycanthropy in their possession, the alpha and his packmates have to to choose between using her immunity and strength to subdue his brother or accidentally exterminate the lycan race by exposing a potential cure to their curse.


            KINKS

            • rough sex (over tables <3)
              oral - giving, receiving
              teasing, orgasm denial
              cock worship
              m x m x m
 
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