Twizted Tales (M seeking F)

[twiztednwarped]

So I thought it was about time I came up with an area to collect plot devices, characters, and story cravings.

Let's start with me as a writer. I am an empath IRL. Strong feelings are how I walk through the world. I navigate life through other people's shoes. This is one of the reason's I love to write. When I write a story it allows me to not only create unique experiences, it also allows me to explore fragments of my personality that are deep inside my psyche or isolate pieces of it that I tend not to nurture. When I write a character I emotionally slide into their skin. I love to put these characters through trials, tribulations, and even horrible trauma just to see what they will do and how they will react because that is when they really come alive. It triggers my INFJ quirks to watch my characters live through different scenarios and make the same, or different choices than I would have made in their place. I find it cathartic and fascinating.

How does this affect my interaction with my partners? If you know anything about INFJ's (Which most people don't I'm sure) we are people pleasers and seekers of harmony and balance. We strive to see pleasure in those around us. Which makes for a strange dynamic because I am also a practicing Daddy Dom. So when writing a story I am at times willing to bend or completely ignore all but my most strict offs if I think it will get a real thrill out of my partner. If I know it is a potent trigger I may throw it in as a surprise. The best part about writing collaborative stories is seeing your partner enjoying the experience. I get satisfaction out of knowing you enjoy my work and the things I write, even the non-sexy posts.

I prefer to have frequent contact with those I write with to make sure things are on track, things are going the way they want them to. Generally, I am pretty social with my partners as well.

I have been writing many of these characters for almost 20 years. Most of them have their roots in Dragonlance lore but have been adapted to other realms, games, and systems along the way. One of my best is already taken, my favorite is one I am featuring in a trilogy novel so I will not be writing her here. With all of that out of the way let me introduce you to my guys.
 
Name: Krisstoss Talinar  Taken
Age:33
Occupation: Rogue, adventurer, jack of all trades
Looks: Chestnut brown hair, and deep soulful brown eyes. Multiple smaller scars, most prominant is one that runs from his left collarbone to his right hip.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Krisstoss was a street urchin. Like most orphans he turned to picking pockets and stealing food to survive. He excelled at it and found himself recruited by the theives guild at a young age. They trained him to spot hidden objects, how to disarm traps, how to sneak up on someone and how to hide in the slightest shadow. Where to strike the vital parts on a person for maximum damage. When he realized they were training him how to be a killer he was appauled. They gave him his first assignment and when he moved on the target instead of taking the life he had been sent to collect he delivered a warning instead. The guild knew he had betrayed them, so he had no choice but to take what he had learned and turn to the life of adventuring to protect himself.

Krisstoss discovered he never had a taste for violence. He avoids it whenever possible. He is quite charming and has a silver tongue, and a winning smile. Those eyes have been known to draw in more than a few women in taverns all across Krynn. While he is well muscled he choses not to rely on brute strength in battle, instead he uses his agility to evade and confuse enemies. His swordplay is nothing short of genious. A combination of feints and attacks always keeps his enemy off balance, allowing him to strike vital organs at will, while never leaving openings in his own defense. Whenever he is threatened he is able to perform feats of acrobatics to evade attacks.

Anger is rare for the easy-going rogue. He would rather have a drink and chat about things than get worked up. However, when he is angry the target of his anger best beware, his mind is sharper than any sword.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Krisstoss is not a fighter, but he will not stand idle when darkness spreads through the land. As the God Chaos came to Krynn to destroy the pantheon and all life with his horrible creatures many of the Gods and mortals banded together to stand against the Father of All and Nothing. Many great heroes died in that war, a few Gods met their end as well. At one point the call came to bring all Solamnic and Tahkisis knights into the Abyss to  battle Chaos himself.  He was fighting alongside the knights to hold back a Demi-God who had sided with Chaos and was sieging Qualinesti, one of the elven nations. Kriss had always been a risk taker, a gambler. He knew the stakes if they lost this battle. All life would simply cease to be if Chaos won as if it never existed.

The rogue bid the knights follow the orders they were given, and he stood alone at the gates to face the  Demi-God in single combat.

It was a foolish gamble. The rogue was quickly outmatched he realized. The blade this monster wielded was like nothing he had ever seen, and the strength behind his attacks left his arms numb after just two parries. He realized he had to change tactics to have any hope of stopping this creature.

He used every bit of instinct and skill he had developed over the years to get within reach. He pulled out a hidden dagger to deflect the sword blow that tried to cleave him in half and struck truck. The God roared in pain but did not fall. Kriss could not free his weapon, he sensed death coming, luckily he didn't have to wait long. The strange golden blade cut through his body like flesh and bone were not even there.

He coughed up blood violently, barely clinging to life. He pulled another hidden knife from his ravaged armor with what little strength remained in his right arm. The Demi-God taunted him. I'm impressed you are still alive human. You fought bravely, but it is time to die.

Contorting his face in a rage he spat his own blood into the God's eyes defiantly. "You first you bastard!" Wheezing with every breath, a dagger in each hand he drove each of them cross guard deep into the Demi-God's temples. The half lion, half man convulsed, then collapsed.

He woke to find an elven healer's hands checking a puckered scar on his chest, and to find he was clutching the same blade that gave him that scar.

Name: Drakor Justarious
Age: 238
Occupation: Cleric/Wizard (Yes both)
Looks: Pale skin, golden blonde hair, blue eyes, lilthe build.

Alignment: Lawful Good


Drakor is a former nobleman from Sylvanesti. His house is powerful and the Justarious name carries powerful weight behind it. He was born and showed great promise in both arcane arts and clerical abilities. Instead of dedicating himself to one path he decided to study both. This was frowned upon, but no one discourged him initially. He found it facinating that both arcane magic and faith magic all came from the Gods, yet they were so different. His curiosity led him to seek out knowledge which led him to the great library. There he met the man who would change his life forever.

He was a white robed wizard, but he found himself engaged in a conversation with the most powerful black robed wizard to ever walk the Ansalon. Rastlin Majere found the young elf to be an oddity. The two often had different perspectives, but they valued seeking knowledge over nearly anything else. It was not long until the elf was invited to the tower of high sorcery to study under the infamous mage.

When word got back to his people they immediately labeled him fallen, a dark elf and  banished him from ever entering his homeland again.

The news didn't really phase him at the time. His quest for knowledge was all consuming.

There reached a point where he could go no further without truly tipping the balance inside himself. He could learn more, but he would have to embrace darkness. He knew the dark robed wizard would teach him wonderful and terrible things that had been lost to the ages and after his death would likely once more be lost. The elf resisted the call of Thakisis and remained loyal to Luinari and Paladine.

The two parted ways and it was not long before Raistlin had found another dark elf under his tutlidge. This one had embraced the black robes.

Drakor continued his journies, seeking out knowledge until he came upon a forest of unknown nature. He met a woman there who immediately he felt a connection with. After some time and many trials together the two fell in love and married. The match was doomed however, her life was snuffed out by the death knight Lord Soth. Even his powers could not save her from his fearsome devistating death attacks.

Devastated by this loss he has since taken to adventuring to help the people of the land, trying to heal the wound in his soul.




Name: Kivanos Avenger of the Grove
Age: 184
Occupation: Former Arch Druid
Looks: Brown hair, green eyes, medium build, sun darkened skin, often has leaves or flowers in his hair

Alignment: True Neutral


Kivanos is a powerful druid who once led a circle of druids in a grove. The druids would often help the nearby farming villages when rain was sparse and crops would turn, they were not unfriendly to the plight of their neighbor. However, when the orcs and goblins came to burn down their beloved grove of trees and slaughter nearly all the druids none of those humans repaid the kindness. They never got any warning from the villages that the raiding parties passed by.

Enraged by this turn of events and the betral Kivan slaughtered the creatures of darkness with all the power at his disposal. He summoned lightning from the sky, turned the night sky into a violent gale, then to sleet storms, he summoned wild animals to his side and then changed his own form into a fierce medium sized red dragon and spewed death upon them from the sky. His grove was already dead, the fire would clear out what remained and make way for new life; eventually.

He did not stop there.

For each town that the warband passed by he sought a price. Once more he took shifted to another form, this time a panther stalking prey. For each druid that lost a life that night, he took the life of a soldier who didn't signal a warning or fire an arrow. When the night was done his black fur coat was soaked with the blood of men.

Kivanos is very solitary and does not trust easily. He despises orcs and goblins, and barely tolerates humans. Other races he treats with slightly veiled irritation. Anyone who wants to get close to him has their work cut out for them, or would need to have some sort of common ground.

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All of these characters can be adapted to fit original stories. I will be adding more when I have the time to do so. Feel free to message me if any of these characters sound interesting to you and we can discuss possible story ideas.

[twiztednwarped]

Modern Era Character
Already claimed
Created specifically for a role, thus currently taken. Will link to the story once it is created.

Name: Richard McDowell
Age: 29
Occupation: Owns a hobby shop. (Table top games, CCGs ects)
Looks: Short dark hair. Intense green eyes. Well built. A tribal tattoo on his left shoulder that runs down the length of his arm and a very detailed wolf on his right shoulder.

Personality: Reserved, laid back, seemingly aloof. Very in tune to everything around him and able to recognize things other people seem oblivious too.

Rich was a military brat growing up. His family traveled all over and he was constantly changing schools. His lineage made him a target for pranks and being bullied too. When he was younger the Cherokee ancestry in his family was much more prominent because he was a scrawny kid and the high forehead and high cheekbones made him look funny without a flushed out jawline. He would defend himself only when needed, but it was never out of anger. His temper was deep and slow burning. It was very hard to stir the fire inside of him. Certain things pulled that trigger instantaneously though. Violence against women, whenever he would see a group of people picking on weaker or outnumbered individuals he would leap into the situation without thought, fear, or remorse. When he let out the wolf blood was shed.

Overall he disliked hurting people, he loathed it actually. He has a gift for extremely strong empathy and is able to feel what other people feel, read what they want to keep hidden without any real effort and understand them as no one else can. Reading body language? Childs play, spotting lies? Almost effortless with the rare exception. However, being that open to people and the universe has terrible costs. One of them is that strong emotions from other people are able to overwhelm him and infect him like a virus. The closer he is to that person, the easier it is for him to absorb their psychic emissions. Good emotions, bad emotions it doesn't matter. Being at the mercy of another person's feelings can be a horrible thing. The second cost is one that he has only spoken too with his Grandmother.

The ability to see and hear the dead. Make no mistake it is very obvious that there is a difference between a living and dead person, but being able to see them is inconvenient at best and at worst it can be tormenting. His Grandmother has spoken at length about the dead and their impact on the world with him, telling him not to ignore this gift and to hone it. All he want's to do is be rid of it.

Life didn't change much when he moved to Pinebox. Well, one thing did, dad stopped getting deployed. So the family set up roots here and he finished out his schooling. He made a handful of meaningful connections, but not many. There was one person that he felt a strong connection too Layla Covington. Something about her just felt... similar. She felt like a kindred spirit. He wanted to talk to her but she was Pinebox royalty and she had a revolving door of guys. For a quiet introvert like Rich that was too intimidating at that point in his life. He never pulled the trigger.

Years passed, he found himself running his own business and he was thriving. He still hadn't made that many connections, he was unmoored from the world. Pinebox just seemed so full of darkness that it overwhelmed him. He had been tempted to leave so many times; he often felt like he was drowning here. Something about this town felt sinister and dark, he could sense it in his bones. He had gone as far as claiming some of his Grandmother's old books when she passed and inscribing some of the protection runes onto his skin, in his shop, and in his home. It seemed to help, but it could not completely abey the darkness.

He was house hunting a few counties over when he sensed a familiar sensation he had not felt since high school. Layla Covington.

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The Dryad and the Druid

A secluded spring feeds an ancient tree that is amazingly vibrant. The entire area radiates a sense of peace and tranquility. Animals are known to frequent the spring and oddly enough when they do even animals that would normally tear each other to pieces coexist while they are there seeking a place to graze or drink. Mortals do not venture near the spring because there are strange rumors of people going missing after having ventured near that area.

All of these phenomena are linked by a key factor, within the tree lives a Dryad, an ancient and powerful fey nature creature. These beautiful female beings are known to be fierce protectors of nature and are always bound to a magical tree.

Dryads are known to rely heavily on their charm magic before resorting to violence to defend themselves, bending the minds of others to their will to defend their trees and nature. They prefer not to directly confront other forces.

YC would be the Dryad, your tree is under attack, using your magic you call out mentally for help while desperately lashing out with your powers to defend your tree knowing that if your tree dies you will also perish.

MC will be Kivanos (Above) a powerful druid who is well versed in the natural world and able to resist her natural charm magic, but still decides to help her because he has no love for those who harm nature. Between the two of them the threat is repelled and a strange bond is formed. YC is relieved she has met someone she can interact with who is not so weak she cannot simply subdue with her natural abilities, MC understands her isolation, and her torment. Eventually using MC's knowledge of natural magic he would be able to free her from the restrictions that keep her so closely tied to her tree and let her walk more freely through the world, extending the time she can go without having to return to her tree.

What I am looking for: Someone who can really pull off some seduction, and emotional range.

What to expect: Physical, emotional conflict. Lots of sexual tension and mutual seduction as the two push and pull at each other. A lof of the RP will take place in one area or around it as her character cannot leave her tree for extreme amounts of time until later in the story.

[twiztednwarped]

The Power of Lust

He had spent months preparing for this ceremony. Several trips to recover powerful tomes of ancient lore to reveal the power eldritch forces he would have to wrestle once the incantations were complete. He had memorized each and every ability the creature possessed and they were formidable. The magic powers alone of the demonic being were enough to be a danger to most mortals on the prime material plane, yet here he was alone planning to summon one and bind it in his laboratory; pure and utter madness.

Then there were the physical dangers. Her claws could pierce plate armor like cloth, they were smart and devious as a demon could come, and well it was a demon designed to allure; that was her most formidable weapon of all. Never having seen a live succubus, only renderings and descriptions they varied and he imagined that not every demon had the same look about her. One thing was made quite clear however in each description, they were built to provoke sin and carnal desire in mortals; to make the body betray the mind and soul.

He traced the last of the runes into the smooth marble floor with the silver and mithril powder and leaned back to study his work with an expert eye. He compared it to the five separate sketches that he had obtained of the binding circle. One thing troubled him, a single rune was out of place in this fifth drawing, it was flipped inversely and that could mean the difference between life and death. Was this the only magus to contain the lust demon, or was he one bent to her will and compelled to publish incorrect information to fuel more foolish mortals to follow in his footsteps.

He had chosen to believe this man had solved the riddle and flipped the symbol, it was a gamble, but this was only the binding circle for permanency. The redundant circles of protection should hold her long enough to allow him to banish her if his gamble was wrong, and all it would cost him was months worth of work and fifty thousand gold worth of spell components. He tried not to think about that now.

He slid out of his robes and stood in front of the large full-size mirror, examining the runes of protection scrawled upon his flesh. Each rune had a protection spell imbued within it and then magically bound on his skin. It would protect him from her various magical attacks if everything else failed. Everything from charm spells to magical holding spells. He thought he had played this chess game thirty moves ahead, and yet still there was a hollow pit in the center of his stomach. A small part of him quaked in dread, even as the greater part of him exalted with the thrill of conquest. He examined his muscular frame one more time and then with a deep breath stepped out of the pool of robes.

His nude form was illuminated by the dancing torch lights that gave off no smoke nor odor; such things were a trivial cantrip to a magus of his skill. He pulled a small jar of viscous, creamy fluid that had been warming over a candle nearby and he poured it in the center of the ring of binding. The smell of his stored seed was pungent, it had taken him time to store the required amount for the spell. If one wanted to catch a shark, one must place chum in the water after all. He set the jar outside the circle, careful not to disturb the powdered runes. He brandished a straight-bladed obsidian dagger with his other hand and drew it across a bare part of his forearm, careful not to damage himself in a place that would hinder his casting ability, nor disrupt the runic protections he had painstakingly placed. His blood mixed with his seed upon the floor.

He stepped out of the circle and wrapped a cloth around his wound and for a brief moment watched the blood pool, before tying it off with his free hand, and mouth.

Setting his jaw with determination he mentally ran his mind over the spell one final time and then raised his hands. Tracing delicate patterns in the air he spoke in a low, haunting tone the harsh words in the infernal tongue. The words were guttural and sounded like a mixture of a snarling wolf, and a grunting gorilla. The words came faster as he felt the magic take hold in his blood, it swept through him and he could not help feeling his excitement grow with it. Standing there in his nudity, knowing what he was about to summon, his manhood stiffened to half-mast. The runes burned a harsh white color and the turned solid in the floor rather than a powder as if they were letters carved in stone. The offerings he had left for her vibrated as if reacting to an unseen presence.

That was when the world split open. He had done it! With the power of his will and his magic, he had ripped a tear in the prime material plane to the burning hells. The smell of sulfur struck him so hard that it almost made him gag and lose the spell. He managed to continue his harsh chanting and that was when he heard a soft, feminine chuckle that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The voice was inhuman, it had an eerie echo to it as if it were reverberating off the inside of his skull and coming back out of his ears. Oh, she was not hear yet, she was playing with him, testing his resolve. If she could get him to break the spell in mid cast she could escape the bindings and she knew it. So did he…

He curled his toes into the cold cobblestone as he felt her presence. She was not physically material yet, the summoning was still working, but already the game had begun. He could smell the scent of her skin and hear barely audible promises; words he could not quite make out, but he strained to hear. He realized the trap even as his length hardened further at the sound of her voice.

He snapped his eyes shut and snarled out the words of the spell, attempting to shut out the sound of her feminine voice, it was more human-sounding now, and just before he had closed his eyes he could see a silhouette of a humanoid shape standing inside the circle. Now he could clearly hear her voice, it was as solid and real as if she were speaking from the next room.

He felt the magic surge into place and grow taught like a rope. He closed both hands into fists and one rune turned from solid white to bright red like iron in a hot forge, then it turned blue, then the next one followed suit. Each rune repeated until every rune was a navy blue color on the floor.

His shoulders slumped from the effort, and there was sweat on his face, the casting had been one of the most difficult and taxing spells he had ever cast, so much so that he had only been able to commit it, and a few minor cantrips to memory. For someone of his skill level that spoke volumes of the difficulty of this spell. He did not linger in his nudity, reaching down to scoop up his robes, he tugged them around his shoulders and tied them loosely around his waist. It was not modesty that compelled him to do this, but the runes on his body could give away what protections he had placed upon him if she had any knowledge of spellcraft and time to study them. He had no desire to tip his hand. Mopping lightly at his face he stepped forward to face his captive and spoke softly. “Welcome to your new home."

This will likely be the set up for the story. Edits can be made depending on what is decided between us during story prep.

What I am looking for: A partner who can play a manipulative sex demon who could charm the pants off of a stone. This story will require collaboration and extreme levels of teasing and taunting.

What to expect: Two creatures attempting to take control of one another while giving nothing away. The goal is to twist the other party around your finger. This may end in many different ways again depending on how we decide to do it. Lots of teasing, lots of sexual innuendo. A small amount or a large amount of sex. Maybe somewhere in between. That can be tweaked. What else would you expect from a manipulative sex demon? Her end goal should be to turn him into a sex puppet.