[Mul] A mother's loss [LF Game Master type partner, Exotic]

[lidarovina]

A Mother's Loss:

I had a RP idea while goosing around with one of my other partners, and the idea just sort of blossomed for a more plot driven, action oriented RP then my usual passion driven sex fests that I do so love to indulge in. Still, at times I hunger for more plot, or just that epic feel that can be inspired as you follow a powerful protagonist as they struggle against the world that seems to choke and strangle at their frantic attempts to make something right. The problem is, the plot I had in mind only had one or two protagonists at most, so I figured I'd look for a partner that is comfortable playing the Game Master with me, and helping to build a relationship between two characters, or just playing the world and various troubles my characters runs into in her quest to make right wrongs that she had done.

I'd like the setting to be a perverse, dark fantasy setting, the time table would be 1500-1600s with high magic, wizards, witches, warlocks, the living dead, cannibalism, elder Gods where dark pleasures flourish and what goodness and light remains in the world is found only in small illuminated patches. Strong holds of do gooders are rare, even rarer are traveling adventures with only ideas of pure actions and saving those who can not save themselves. The few paladins and 'saints' that do wander the world are extremely powerful, and wouldn't be played by me or my partner as a PC, instead being powerful NCPs. In other words... think of the few traveling crusaders, and witch hunters being more like Exalts, if you're familiar with White wolf's game. Super-natural beings of immense powers, probably having small cults of peasants following them about, worshiping the ground they walk on.

But the fleeting forces of good have little interest to me in this dark world of dark pleasure and perverse pain, I'm interested in playing more of a anti-hero, a woman that has it all. A beautiful necromancer or witch, a soul-snatching ice queen that rides the wave of the highest of the world's society. With the influence of a queen, and the power to back it up... but like any noble, she samples the more base pleasures, and becomes with child. After carrying the baby girl for 9 months, she rids herself of the child, leaving the father to care for the baby girl. Despite her disinterest, or apparent disinterest she keeps a eye on the father of her child. The baby girl grows up, following in the foot steps of her mother, but more like her father, naive and simple, living on the edge of darkness, and of the fleeting light... far too naive. Some how, when the girl turns 18, something terrible happens, and she's spirited away to be tosses into the cruel darkness of the world.

The haughty ice queen doesn't notice at first, too busy playing young nobles against each other, savoring the beauty of the squabbles that causes... but then she notices her 'husband' frantic with worry, and that her young daughter isn't where she should be. Instead of being safely apprenticed to a wizard or warlock, she's gone. Only air and dust in her place, motherly instincts kick in as something long forgotten in the icy witch sparks up. Compassion and a protective nature for something other then herself. The witch throws herself on the trail of her daughter, and the story would revolve around the daughter struggling to survive the hard ships she runs into, and unknown to her, her enraged mother tearing the world apart behind her daughter, frantically searching.

This can either be played with the mother alone, or with the mother and father, putting past bitter feelings to search for their baby girl, and the horrors that they meet along the way. The couple would not be a 'good' pair, but more neutral for the father (even evil) and evil for the mother. The GM would have to be comfortable with having a character that is more then willing to slaughter a village to find out which slave cartel took her daughter, or where the shipment was headed. Not against killing innocents to fuel her search, or from stealing shamelessly. There is nothing that will stand between her and her daughter, the woman's intentions pure, but her actions obviously evil. The sorts of confrontations that could happen would mostly be evil against evil, rats fighting rats so to speak. A force of darkness ripping a swath through the world she was so much a part of... perhaps leaving sun light in her wake, as iron grips are broken, and freedom is left to blossom however it chooses.

I want to happen, is the witch... in all of her cold evil, is actually a force of change in the world she cares for little more then a amusing bauble. Perhaps she'll be remembered as a hero, when in fact she was very much the exact opposite.

------

Kinks and disclaimers:

The RP will feature monster on girl, either with the daughter enduring some sort of hardship, or forced attention, or the mother bartering with something too powerful for her to simply bully into telling her the next step in her search. There will be plenty of gore, blood shed, violence, perhaps even a little cannibalism outside of the bed room, it is a world where perverse, dark pleasures flourish, the world is a cesspool where the powerful and rich wallow in their decadent vices, and sample into far more cruel and demonic vices. Super-natural forces and exotic magical creatures and transformations would be best. Nothing brings a sense of horror then a gluttonous governor turned into a Clive Barkereqse horror, feasting and savoring his/her/its orgies of sex, blood, and flesh.

If you're not so much into fantasy horror, or high action and high fantasy, then this wouldn't be such of a good idea for you.

Now then, for a sample snippet...

---------------------------------------------
The Twisted Dagger, a small rustic tavern on the side of the road that serviced the brave merchants, or slaver caravans that stopped to rest for a warm bed, and hot food. The innkeeper was a ex fighting man, and he kept a strong staff of guards to keep his rustic investment safe. The inn was small and quaint, three stories tall, constantly growing and expanding not all of the carpentry matched up, and some of the floors were not level as they should be. The inn keeper was cheap, cutting corners, as such his business was a battle to extract coin from his rough customers, and maintaining his inn. At least the base building, the foundation was strong, polished timbers holding up a open common area with a large hearth, it was a silver penny to spend the night in the common room, sleeping in front of the hearth, it was also dangerous. The floors were not blood stained from only bar fights, or knife fights that broke out. Flaunt too much gold... you could wake up with a knife in your throat, and some lucky pick pocket collecting your things. Your body would be tossed out, or perhaps that was how the inn had such meaty stews? No body knew, nor did they ask, ignorance was bliss. The night was a normal night, the inn keeper keeping his eyes on a roudy group of slavers, regulars as they worked the main trade roads, collecting slaves from the densely populated forests and farm land, as well as snatching gutter rats and convicted 'criminals' from the packed, over-filled cities and industrial city states to sell to labor camps, or perhaps shined, and sold to nobility as pretty things.

The inn grew oddly quiet as the door swung open, ever man looking towards the door and gripping a dagger, or a short sword, those who had the money grasped crude fire arms. What walked in the door made a few blink the smell of a lady, not the dirty barmaids or woman adventurer and sell sword, but a lady. A rich aroma of perfume, and the soft shifting of fine silks made them all stare. Their dirty hair and beards hanging in crude locks and ringlets around their faces. The beautiful woman looked around, until her eyes locked on her goal, the loud slaver crew, she immediately began to walk towards them. Recognizing the badges on their dirty vests as a part of the same gang as the men she had questioned back in the dirty streets a week ago.

The leader of the small group was handsome young human man, auburn locks reaching down to his shoulders, oddly well kept, he was even partially clean and smelled of cheap perfume. He had a hanker chief wrapped around his neck, and was wearing fairly clean, but still thread bare traveling clothing, covered over with the leather armor that his fellows had on hand. He glanced up at her, smiling showing yellowed and stained teeth, "Hello love, whut ken I do fer yah?" His eyes glinting greedily as he looked over her figure, and perhaps figured she was interested in buying? They had a few slaves out back in the stables he could happily part with for a exorbitant pile of gold... perhaps after he took his money, a hard blow from a sap, and he would have his slaves, his money, and a real pretty piece...

She stood perhaps 6'2", long raven black locks of hair spilling down her back, reaching down to the small of her back despite the fact she was wearing her hair up in a ordinate pony tail. Fringe bangs and long tassels framing her beautiful, but icy face. Fine chiseled brows and long fluttering lashes framing her lidded, almost bored looking eyes. Her irises a dark magenta, almost a dark red of congealed blood, her pupils slitted like a cat. Her soft pink lips pulled into a neutral line, making it impossible to read the witches' emotions as her eyes seemed to dig deep into the slaver's head.

She was wearing a flowing robe of fine eastern silks, the delicate ritual dress left open, exposing her shoulders and a ample amount of cleavage. the soft silks framing the soft gentle roundness of her beautiful, large breasts. A delicate choker of black glass beads and semi-precious black opals circling her long, slender neck. Her kimono was also a mixture of black and white, with highly artistic and detailed embroidery and needle work of swirling mists decorating the black silks of the dress. A wide sash wrapped around her slender waist and toned midriff, holding the garment to her body, the sash tying into a delicate, but large bow on her back. The dress was slitted, partially open to expose the fair skin of her long slender legs, dressed up with long, laced stockings that reached up to the middle of her thighs. The ties of black, bikini style side tie panties gently riding the curves of her sensual hips, hinting at the curve of her lush rump. Her arms covered by elbow length gloves that were little more then a tapered triangle of cloth, catching around her middle finger via a delicate loop of silk. Her feet were covered in tall boots, not heeled, but still designer, and expertly tailored. Her long delicate ears were studded with silver loops and hoops, matching her fair skin, and contrasting sharply with her dark hair. Black opals set in the silver jewelry on the other hand... other silver rings graced her slender fingers, again studded and set with dark opals.

What happened next was a blur, two men... just died, two slavers on either side of the handsome man, obvious pawns suddenly just... well, dying, their faces twisting up before the began to howl and scream, their veins bulging obscenely before their blood began to boil and seethe. The terrible stench of burning, cooking flesh filling the room before the two men literally began to swell up like balloons, and exploded into a terrible mess of blood and gore... but not a drop landed on the witch. Before the leader could escape, a slender white hand snapped out, grabbing his neck and hefting the screaming man into the air, covered with the gore of his two companions. He went for a knife, and she slapped it out of his hand calmly, gripping his neck tightly, her black, painted nails digging into his neck and drawing blood.

Her expression was calm, without emotion, a icy cold mask as she tilted her head to the side, watching the exquisite horror twist across the handsome slaver's face. The rest of the inn was scrambling away from the tall, regal witch as she held the offending young man off the ground, her cold, long delicate fingers wrapped around his warm, pink neck. Her flesh the pallid pale color that only necromancers or fae could achieve, it just so happened she was both. She twisted the slaver's neck, her voice as cold as her face, only there was a low, seething hatred that promised so much pain if he didn't give her what she wanted... and perhaps even if he did.

"Where is my daughter?"

The stuttered gasps and loud curses didn't amuse her, the slaver's companions would watch in horror and terror as ghostly wisps of light began to flow from the slaver's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, flowing into her own as the the witch asked again. Feeble coughs and sputterings racked the man as he struggled to answer, his skin sagging and wrinkling, his hair turning white. Still the witch didn't relent, asking again... but it was useless. The skin of the slaver was black and leathery, pulled across bones tautly, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain and suffering, exposing a long withered tongue and ghoulish teeth, his lips stretched taunt in his silent scream. His eyes sunken in and gone, leaving only dark sockets, his hair once rich auburn white and thread bare. His once muscular body nothing more then a hollow husk, his hands bent into gnarled claws as the witch tossed the dried, leathery corpse to the side. The thing clattered to the ground, one of of the expensive shoes clattering off of a foot far to small and withered now to fit it, the once form fitting clothes draping like blankets, as the hollowed sockets stared emptily at the far wall, looking at the other slavers pressed into the corner of the inn, almost pleading even after death for help.

Around the witch the ghostly essence flowed and swirled around her, brief flashes of a moaning, screaming face appearing as she drew in the man's essence, before looking at his companion, flexing her fingers. Her face still a emotionless mask.

"Where is my daughter?"

----------------------------------------

As you can see, the game would be more like Exalted, with mortals, and peons being little more then cannon fodder, what challenges she would met would mostly come from other arcane, terrible creatures like herself. If she's with her husband, perhaps he would hold her back, and temper her rage, but she would be no less cruel with those she could slay and not get a nagging ear full from her lover.

[Chevalier des Poissons]

I

LOVED


IT!! :3 :3 :3

I will read carefully again and again. You will be soon receiving a MP from me with some ideas, se we could work it out.