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- 10
A storm of impossible colors covers the sky from horizon to horizon, molding in and out of shapes that makes human eyes weep to hold onto. Flashes of what barely resembled lightning crack through the clouds, but nothing about them is as it should have been. They hold their figure for too long. They draw patterns with limbs. They breath. None could bear to watch them for more than a moment, but the earth below could only be so much more tolerable. Valleys were becoming filled, mountains felled, great rivers ran dry or redirected entirely... and all of it reeked of sulfur. Sulfur. The smell of all demon magic. The kind of thing there ought to have only been one reaction and cure for.
But no longer.
Tents sat from one edge of the cleared field to another, orderly, flags hoisted up towards the cursed sky bearing the marks of each of the Cardinal Princes and their respective bands; the left their personal heraldry, the right their Overlord's Eye whom they bore all allegiance towards. All hopes. All dreams. All prayers. Not only the Princes, but the demons that had followed them, and their helpers.
'Helpers.'
Scum. Turncoats. TRAITORS.
'Demon Helpers' knelt in droves to priests who speak in tongues they likely had no understanding of. They speak of a new order, of new lands to call their own, of the bounty expected to those who accepted the new waves of change overtaking the land in every direction, on every continent. Their mouths were filled with sweet fruit borne of Hell and their ears filled with promises one could only hope were lies. Once their 'sermons' had ended and their oaths taken, one could see them being taken into the arms of those that would become their new sergeants, tears in their eyes, shocked expressions on their 'victims' at this brash expression of warmth.
That was not her fate. Not today. Hopefully not ever.
Whatever awaited her was in an unassuming tent that would have bled into the background of anyone's mind, neither particularly impressive nor unimpressive, perfectly ordinary and sporting the same colors of violet and black as its twins. Only she knew better. They were there.
Waiting for them.
. . .
Deliberately pretty vague, but the key parts to know are that a force of demons have invaded a Medieval Fantasy world and are sculpting its surface using the magic available to them to make it more hospitable to their kind. This prompt is written as if a battle took place and that the demons were able to claim victory after it, presumably capturing your character(s) in the aftermath. Mostly an apocalyptic background to set the stage of one or more characters (written as heroines) being expected to meet with the one at the head of the invasion - their name is Ilya. They're not some horrifyingly destructive force of nature so much as they are a political animal, good at exploiting people and manipulating them.
Like the title said it's a short-term prompt with a basic gist to it. My partner players one or more characters, meet with Ilya at the apex of her glory, they fuck, the end.
Ilya's typically presented as being an older woman with a sadistic domme streak to them, but I'm open to a wide variety of vanilla kinks and physical appearances for our daemonette. I'm not picky. Expect a lot of kissing, gloating, chauvinism, possibly coerced lesbianism, mind-games, age gaps (I describe Ilya as being thick & MILF-y.), possible height gaps. Fantasy interracial. Intelligent & competent heroes (or princesses, queens, whatever) being forced to do mildly degrading things. Body worship. Verbal foreplay. Spankings. Orgasm denial & control.
None of those are obligatory. Most can be ignored potentially. I'm more into context being sexy than all of my kinks being met.
But no longer.
Tents sat from one edge of the cleared field to another, orderly, flags hoisted up towards the cursed sky bearing the marks of each of the Cardinal Princes and their respective bands; the left their personal heraldry, the right their Overlord's Eye whom they bore all allegiance towards. All hopes. All dreams. All prayers. Not only the Princes, but the demons that had followed them, and their helpers.
'Helpers.'
Scum. Turncoats. TRAITORS.
'Demon Helpers' knelt in droves to priests who speak in tongues they likely had no understanding of. They speak of a new order, of new lands to call their own, of the bounty expected to those who accepted the new waves of change overtaking the land in every direction, on every continent. Their mouths were filled with sweet fruit borne of Hell and their ears filled with promises one could only hope were lies. Once their 'sermons' had ended and their oaths taken, one could see them being taken into the arms of those that would become their new sergeants, tears in their eyes, shocked expressions on their 'victims' at this brash expression of warmth.
That was not her fate. Not today. Hopefully not ever.
Whatever awaited her was in an unassuming tent that would have bled into the background of anyone's mind, neither particularly impressive nor unimpressive, perfectly ordinary and sporting the same colors of violet and black as its twins. Only she knew better. They were there.
Waiting for them.
. . .
Deliberately pretty vague, but the key parts to know are that a force of demons have invaded a Medieval Fantasy world and are sculpting its surface using the magic available to them to make it more hospitable to their kind. This prompt is written as if a battle took place and that the demons were able to claim victory after it, presumably capturing your character(s) in the aftermath. Mostly an apocalyptic background to set the stage of one or more characters (written as heroines) being expected to meet with the one at the head of the invasion - their name is Ilya. They're not some horrifyingly destructive force of nature so much as they are a political animal, good at exploiting people and manipulating them.
Like the title said it's a short-term prompt with a basic gist to it. My partner players one or more characters, meet with Ilya at the apex of her glory, they fuck, the end.
Ilya's typically presented as being an older woman with a sadistic domme streak to them, but I'm open to a wide variety of vanilla kinks and physical appearances for our daemonette. I'm not picky. Expect a lot of kissing, gloating, chauvinism, possibly coerced lesbianism, mind-games, age gaps (I describe Ilya as being thick & MILF-y.), possible height gaps. Fantasy interracial. Intelligent & competent heroes (or princesses, queens, whatever) being forced to do mildly degrading things. Body worship. Verbal foreplay. Spankings. Orgasm denial & control.
None of those are obligatory. Most can be ignored potentially. I'm more into context being sexy than all of my kinks being met.