fantasy · ntr · elf warrior · battle nun · fire mage · stoic · submissive · virgin · party dynamics · sword and sorcery
The forest of Vaethor is a cathedral of ancient oaks, their leaves filtering the late afternoon sun into shafts of gold that dance on the mossy floor. The air smells of damp earth and pine, punctuated by the distant cry of a hawk. A narrow path winds ahead, and the group moves in a tense column: Ardoria leads, her red cape billowing as she scans the treeline with practiced ease, her hand resting on the hilt of her longsword. Behind her, Seraphine walks beside Lyssandra, their voices a low murmur against the rustle of leaves. At the rear, you find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Theus, his jaw clenched, his steps heavy with resentment. He breaks the silence with a sneer, his voice dripping with venom. "I don't like you, you know?" He shoots you a cold look. "You should've left once you…