You awaken to the sound of birds squawking overhead. At least you think they’re birds, you can never be too sure in the Jungles of Lustria. Opening your eyes groggily, you prop yourself up on your elbows to the same sight you’ve woken up to for the last two months without fail.

Your immediate surroundings consist of a small but exquisitely furnished desk and chair, a mostly empty chest at the foot of your bedroll and a bucket of water next to the tent opening. The navy material of the tent does a decent job at keeping the worst of the sun out, but little to abate the warmth of the surrounding jungle. Covering the opening is a thin curtain which is all the privacy you get. Beyond it you know is a much larger, far grandiose space where your master rests.

And make no mistake, the High Loremaster is your master, no matter how sweetly your position is phrased. You may have his respect, but have yet to convince the rest of his contingent of your worthiness. The intricately woven piece of silver around your neck is reminder of that. A beautiful work of elven craftmanship in its own right, you nevertheless know a collar when you see one.

For you are currently at the heart of the High Elf encampment currently straddling the border between occupied territory and the Culchan Plains that lie beyond. You have found yourself at the forefront of the High Elves’ campaign in these strange lands, for a purpose you are barely beginning to understand. They call themselves the ‘Asur’, but are known more commonly as ‘High Elves’ after their lofty disposition. For a race supposedly in its twilight years, age certainly hasn’t dampened their martial prowess. Nor indeed, their arrogance. Their capacity to simultaneously cast scorn and lust over the ‘lower races’ never ceases to amaze you.

Already you can hear the rest of the encampment stirring. Soon the sound of clipped orders and training drills will fill the air. Time to rise. You know your newfound liege will want to speak with you soon. Perhaps today is the day he finally elucidates you on the goal of this seemingly futile campaign. Standing, your eyes alight on the bucket of water. Best make yourself presentable, you know how the Asur despise uncleanliness.

Before you take a handful of water to splash against your face, you take a look at your reflection to examine yourself. What do you see? [This determines your race as well as how the High Elves initially regard you.]

Human, Empire Provinces

A not unpleasant face stares back. One of Sigmar’s very own, you hail from the resolute Empire of Man. Currently under the reign of the recently elected Emperor Karl Franz, the provinces are experiencing a grand new chapter in their history. Among the most cosmopolitan and strongest nations of the Old World, depending on your home province you’re no stranger to rubbing shoulders with other races on an equal footing. You are probably a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, able to put that human adaptability and grit to good use.

Like every race that is not the glorious Asur, humans are viewed as inferior. The fact that you may be of noble blood, a sterling warrior or a powerful mage in your own right is of little consequence to them; their customs are better, their soldiers are better, and - you guessed it - their magic is better. Consequently, you have a lot to prove if you want to be taken seriously. Expect to be patronised often, but respected in equal measure if you manage to rise to the occasion.

Human, Kingdom of Brettonnia

You have a touch of true nobility about you, don’t you? Something in the jawline I reckon. For you must be a noble scion of fair Brettonnia, the land of chivalry and wine. Lesser churls unfamiliar with your ways scoff at how you strive to conduct yourself with honour and virtue at all times, but you know better than them. Just thank The Lady you were not born a peasant.

You have most likely seen a High Elf before, given the trade routes between your people. That familiarity does not mean they think any higher of you, however. Your talent with a lance and anything horseback is grudgingly accepted, but don’t expect much more deference than that. They will laugh at your quaint ways and how you shout “For Ze Lady!” as you stride into battle, but you do not let it affect you. In fact, you might well be able to match the most arrogant of the Asur with your implacable confidence that your way, is the right way. Expect to be argued with. A lot.

Wood Elf

A pair of pointed ears frame your classically angular face. You’re a wood elf after all, or ‘Asrai’ as your people prefer to be known. For an infamously insular people, you’re a long way away from the Oak of Ages. As one who’s used to traversing across the lofty branches of the forest as well as being a natural tracker, you may well find yourself at relative ease in the Jungles of Lustria. Your seemingly innate skill with a bow can put many a veteran archer to shame.

Unfortunately, your larger cousins from across the sea regard you as something of a country bumpkin. While they won’t underestimate you in quite the same way one would a human, they will nevertheless view you as their tree-hugging, uncivilised, cousin in need of refinement. Expect to be frequently referred to as ‘little Asrai’ in parochial tones followed by a headpat, regardless of your inclination, status or lethality. So far, all attempts at snapping back against such infuriating behaviour have been seen as merely adorable.

Vampire

You peer into the water but of course, only the bottom of the bucket stares back at you. Such is your curse. Or blessing, depending on if you wanted the Red Kiss all those years ago. You are no longer in contact with your sire, for reasons known only to yourself. Your will is entirely your own. To those around you, you are seen as an exceptionally pale, if attractive, human. Unbeknownst to them your deceptively mundane frame belies a terrible strength, a strength that could rip a lesser army to shreds if you so wished.

To the rank and file of the High Elf encampment, you are just another human. The highest echelons of the army, however, are fully aware of your true nature. Some give you a wide birth out of fear, others resist the urge to spit at your feet when they see you pass. Many revile you for what you are. You are lucky that the High Loremaster has a fondness for you, otherwise you would be truly dead. You even know of a few who would not hesitate to clap you in chains and have their way with you if they could get away with it. Be prepared for several ‘mandatory taming sessions.’

Fresh-faced, you swing back the curtain to step into the High Loremaster’s chambers.

Among the Asur the names Tyrion and Teclis are spoken with hushed respect. Twin brothers and princes of Ulthuan, the High Elf homeland, they have earned their people’s respect time and time again. Choosing to master the winds of magic, Teclis quickly attained the position of High Loremaster despite his youth. From what little you’ve known of him, you understand him to be a noble creature, at times solemn beyond his years. Inclined to caution, altruism (well, for an Asur) and dignity in all things.

Which is why you are bemused not to walk in on the sight of old grimoires, strewn potion flasks and a large map of the region spread over the central table, but to a barely dressed elf fussing over a mouth-watering arrangement of food where said map used to lie.

Teclis, High Loremaster of Hoeth and Warden of Saphery turns round to look at you, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that he’s clad in what would generously be described as a half-tunic.

You do your best not to gawk. (Who’d have thought that under the robes the High Loremaster was hiding such a fit bod, right?) Mastering your best poker face you instead opt for a deep bow that hides the crimsoning of your cheeks for a moment. (I mean, by Sigmar, that arse. Even if you don’t swing that way one can’t help but admire a rear like that.)

“Ah there you are. Come, I’ve prepared a breakfast for us. You will forgive my state of attire; I simply cannot stand the heat today.” He greets you with a small smile, gesturing expansively to the table. If he notices your surprise he shows no sign of it. Despite High Elves being such prudes around each other, it appeared they had no compunction about stripping off in front of lesser races.

“Please, sit. Now that supply lines have finally caught up we no longer have to scavenge in these jungles for food. I thought we might eat together before we begin our day.” He says, all prim and proper as if he wasn’t standing before you one stiff breeze away from in the nude.

You manage to express your gratitude politely, not needing a second encouragement to eat. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten meat, let alone the kind of fresh fruit on offer here. Questioning your liege’s near-nakedness could wait.

As you begin to tuck in you cast your mind back to the almost unbelievable circumstances that led you to where you are now. How was it that you fell into the service of the High Elves anyway? [This partially determines your backstory.]

A Debt Of Gratitude

You have since come to appreciate the High Elves’ vehement loathing towards their fallen brothers and sisters.

Nearly a year ago from this day a dread ship emerged from the fog, cutting your voyage across the southern straits of the Great Ocean short. What was meant to be a simple journey became a nightmare as your vessel was suddenly set upon by bloodthirsty killers and whooping maniacs. The Dark Elves captured you along with several others where you were taken onboard as slaves. You refused to kneel as the shipmaster inspected her new stock, and received a public lashing for your troubles.

The months that followed would have broken a lesser person. As a ‘reward’ for your charming display of spirit, Shipmaster Eldire took you as her personal punching bag. By day you would toil with the rest of the slaves and by night, you would be left to ‘rest’ in the Shipmaster’s cabin. You nevertheless remained defiant in light of the frequent beatings and abuse thrown your way. Even the Naggarothi brand still seared into your upper back did little more than sharpen your resolve.

Eventually, revenge took the form of a High Elf fleet. Taking advantage of the chaos you led the slave revolt yourself, and were above deck when the Druchii decided to scuttle their own ship rather than leave it in the hands of the Asur. You were later found clinging to a hunk of floating wreckage and taken onboard the High Elf flagship for healing. You declined the offer of safe passage back to dry land, instead pledging your service to your rescuers till their task in these waters was done. Touched by your story, the High Loremaster accepted your fealty.

They were never able to locate the body of the Dark Elf leader. Perhaps one day you might run into this Shipmaster Eldire again and thank her properly for making you the hardened individual you are today.

A Chance At Glory

You are sure this will be but a single verse in the ballad of your life.

Some might call you a wanderer. Others less flatteringly, a vagrant or worse, a troublemaker. A scoundrel. A rogue. All these titles and more aside, one might say that you are simply a person of renown. It is difficult to separate fact from fiction with you, with so much of your early life shrouded in mystery. You may have set down roots in some part of the world but a life of adventure is what you are truly known for.

There are rumours about you, you know; that you sailed with the Pirates of Saratosa, that you once served under the Dogs of War. Others speculate that you must be a lichemaster, or the unholy offspring of a beastman and human. There are even those in the High Elf encampment who whisper that you are merely two halflings stacked on top of each other. There may be some scrap of truth here and there, but that is for you alone to know for certain. Your reputation is a double edged sword, one you have nevertheless managed to wield to your advantage many a time.

Who knows why you were travelling in Lustria. Is it sheer wanderlust? Are you searching for someone, something? No one can say for sure, save your friends and loved ones wherever they may be. What is for certain is how you entered the High Loremaster’s service in spectacular fashion. Several months past when the Asur had just colonised Great Turtle Island, you boldly made your way to the centre of the settlement and announced your presence. You had the audacity to request an audience with the High Loremaster, and was confident enough to surrender your weapons before being led at spear point to him.

What information was passed between you at that private council remains a matter Teclis’s own spymaster has yet to be privy to, but when you two emerged it was as master and servant. Not even the High Loremaster is entirely sure why you have pledged yourself to him, but others are sure to speculate all the same. Such does your legend grow.

A Hidden Agenda

You can’t be called a traitor as that implies loyalty in the first place, right?

There are only two beings left in the world that know how you entered the service of the Witch King of Naggarond, ruler of the Dark Elves. One is Malekith himself, the other being you. Not even the High Loremaster suspects that you are a Dark Elf plant. Oh for sure, some inquisitive souls have suspected or investigated- but they’re dead, lost, or imprisoned. Strange coincidence that. It’s a good thing your fellow assassin attempted to kill you as well as Teclis too, otherwise things might have gotten awkward between you and your High Elf chums. Thank Sigmar for compartmentalisation, eh?

It was hard to gain the war council’s trust, Teclis’s doubly so. You did, after all, saunter your way up behind the High Loremaster - evading all the guards in the process - in the middle of broad daylight and tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. In hindsight, getting bodied by a dozen incensed Swordmasters all at once wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself. Nevertheless, you were able to spare yourself from a swift execution by claiming to have information regarding Druchii troop movements in the immediate vicinity. The information proved correct (if you had a gold coin for every Dark Elf who was willing to sacrifice others of its own kind to sell a lie...) and you were able to keep your head.

From there, you laboured to make yourself a valued member of the High Loremaster’s coterie. You demonstrated you had a talent for spying and secrecy, and were promptly sent behind enemy lines to procure more information. Your efforts have been a boon to the High Elven expedition, and have been promised your weight worth in gold once the campaign is concluded. Now all you have to do is keep Teclis alive and wait for the signal to strike.

The thing is... honour is a fickle thing. And as much as you hate to grow attached to a target, you really like this guy. You might not care for the rest of the race but you’d dare call the High Loremaster a right and proper friend. More pertinently, you know full well how fond Malekith is of discarding servants once their use has ended. Whether or not you intend to betray your dread master or grit your teeth and carry on with your task, prepare yourself- if you fail to pick a side and your secret is uncovered, you’re good to no one.

A Quest For Salvation

You now see them for what they truly are and seek to rid yourself of them accordingly.

Throughout your entire life you have never been alone. The four voices in your head have always insisted they had your best interests at heart, even if they argued with each other incessantly. As a child, it was like having four friends with you at all times. Sometimes they came and would speak to you in person, though never all together at once. You never brought it to your parents’ attention. You just knew they wouldn’t understand. Initially you felt indebted to them, especially given how helpful they’ve been to you:

The wolf made you strong. He took you hunting once, and was pleased when you were able to subdue a deer with your bare hands.

The eagle made you clever. It was they who instructed you how to cast spells without the need of a wand or staff.

The snake made you charming. She was delighted when you were able to persuade that blushing farmgirl to grant you refuge for a night while travelling with naught but your tongue.

The raven made you stoic. His comforting presence taught you how to hold your head high and push on no matter the hardship.

You are no longer so blissfully innocent. As you grew up you became more and more wary of the presences. So you dug. You dug deep, educating yourself on your constant companions. The horrified realisation almost drove you mad. Ever since then you have shunned the lure of dark promises from your mind, seeking out a way to truly rid yourself of them. Lustria called to you and you followed. Quite by chance (or just as planned?) you stumbled across the High Loremaster and his coterie in the crumbling ruins of a long abandoned shrine. Without informing him of the four gods living in your head, you were able to convince him to enlist you as an expert in matters of rituals and summoning.

Whether or not you plan to ask Teclis for help in your quest, you are resolved that as long as you have breath in your body your fate is your own. Just don’t expect your four ‘friends’ to let you forsake their friendship without a struggle. The more you resort to their boons, the more others will notice.

By the gods, how much could change in a year.

You sit and eat in silence for a while, stuffing your face eagerly. You know you’d need the energy for the long day ahead of you. The elf opposite you eats with considerably more delicacy, perfectly poised as he daintily picks around his plate with several centuries worth of practiced etiquette. Evidently he had hoped for a civilised, drawn-out conversation over a fine breakfast in proper Asurian manner. If you weren’t so focused on inhaling the food into your mouth you’d notice that in between mouthfuls of fruit he was staring at you with an expression of something between mild disgust and fascination.

“Ahem.”

You remember the company you’re keeping and snap out of your food-coma induced musings.

“M’hlod?” You ask through a mouthful of food.

“First, swallow. Good. Now listen.” His expression changes and you lean forward accordingly.

“You have served me well during your time here. Of all of my coterie, amongst all my servants and dare I say, amongst this entire expedition, I have come to rely upon you like precious few others.” His words are sincere and softly spoken.

He continues, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I am pleased that you -” He corrects himself. “- we, have proved our detractors wrong. You should be proud.”

You murmur your thanks, wondering what all this was about. There is no doubt that you have cemented yourself as a staunch ally and invaluable asset to the High Elves. (You may or may not be flattered to know that the war council considered designating you the camp courtesan to maintain morale. Teclis vetoed the motion, sadly.) Even though you’re an outsider, you have earned a position some Asur would consider a lifelong achievement. What this means for your immediate future - and why you’re being praised so now - you cannot tell.

“Nonsense, you know I look down on false modesty. Not last night I heard a pair of guardsmen discussing you. Your Title in particular. Tell me, and spare no detail, why is it you think that I bestowed upon you that honour?”

What was it that made you worthy in Teclis’s eyes to keep you at his side? [This determines your official Title as well as partially defining your backstory. Note: Aspects of the following three options are not mutually exclusive and can overlap with one another. Pick one Title to choose what your character will be commonly addressed as.]

The Advisor

You are not known for how you conduct yourself in the cut and thrust of battle, nor your command of the winds of magic. No, the High Loremaster has come to recognise your most valuable talent is that of an advisor in the purest sense. You seem to possess a rare insight that pays to take heed of. Battle strategy, supply logistics, diplomacy- you do not claim to hold mastery over any of these areas, yet your involvement certainly eases the process.

A glib tongue and quick wit certainly helped when negotiating a non-aggression pact with a local tribe of Lizardmen. The cold-blooded Saurus remained unimpressed by the usual flowery rhetoric and vague threats spoken by the High Elf ambassador. An impasse seemed all but certain till you recognised a way to solve the discordance. It was a surprise to all when you boldly stepped out and began to plead your case, instead appealing to the Lizardmens’ hatred of the Skaven to secure your liege’s interests. Once convinced of the practicality of an ally against a shared enemy, it was practically child’s play to arrange safe passage and a trade agreement between your peoples.

Maybe it is your foreignness that makes your input so decisive. You are free of the power plays, the bloodline feuds and the occasional tedious adherence to tradition that can waylay proceedings. Nowadays you are almost a permanent feature amongst the war council’s meetings, sitting at the right hand of Teclis himself. Just last week you were formally appointed an emissary, though you have a sneaking suspicion that’s more the Asur preference to put a non High Elf at risk of diplomatic repercussions.

While some are disdainful of the level of influence an outsider is amassing, that has hardly stopped you from becoming an increasingly important figure amongst the varying factions directing the war effort. One worth seducing even; it was a shock to wake up to the rugged, mildly intimidating Quartermaster coquettishly asking to share your bedroll.

The Neophyte

It is ultimately unclear if you were born with such power or gifted it, but you have a remarkable ability to bend the winds of magic to your will. After you accidentally cast chain lightning in the middle of the High Loremaster’s tent just from an idle misreading of a left out scroll, Teclis decided to take you under his wing. It was a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one for the young elf; it had been some time since he’d last had the delight of instructing a non Asur in matters of sorcery.

Given enough time and training, he reckons you might even be able to approach a Loremaster’s knowledge of the arcane arts. Your evenings are commonly filled with lectures, instruction and practical demonstrations. Indeed, the nature of your talents have led you to becoming closer to the High Loremaster than you might have done otherwise. You don’t dare mention it out loud, though you can’t help but feel that he is treating your tutelage as a reprieve from the stresses of campaign.

Bizarrely -though you should have seen it coming- you have earned the enmity of several mages who have been outraged to learn that senpai Teclis has chosen you of all beings to be his pupil. Worse, as your aptitude increases and your prominence in the campaign grows, said mages seem to be more and more aghast at the perceived injustice.

You might have been worried of jealousies getting out of hand if it wasn’t for the fact that the only reprisal so far has consisted of a vaguely worded letter promising something along the lines of ‘a proper hazing to treat your insolence.’ Trust an elf to threaten you with a good time.

The Equerry

You distinguished yourself as a fine bodyguard during the siege of the Chamber of Visions against the Skaven. With supplies dwindling, reinforcements weeks behind and with enemy forces just days away from bearing down on the Asur vanguard, the High Loremaster and his war council judged it a brutal necessity to take the nearby settlement as quickly as possible. As the High Elf forces advanced under a hellish volley of missile fire and warp lightning, Teclis shielded them from afar with a powerful spell that kept him rooted to a nearby hilltop in order to maintain it.

The Asur had not counted on the ratmen menace striking from below the earth, however. You alone stood by the High Loremaster’s side as you two found yourselves surrounded by chittering clanrats, his personal honour guard of Hoeth Swordmasters having been committed earlier in the hope they would take the settlement ramparts more quickly. Recognising the impossible task of defending himself against the swarm of ratmen while keeping up the magical barrier protecting his troops at the same time, you swiftly placed yourself between Teclis and the foe and stood your ground.

It is said you slew dozens that day. While Teclis cast spell after spell aimed a mile away, you ensured not one Skaven stepped within ten paces of your liege. Eventually realising the folly of their ambush the Skaven fled the summit, wailing and with their tails between their legs.

Your heroics earned you a mark of respect among the Asur. Though the oversight was waived away by the war council as a test on your part, the High Loremaster made sure that your martial prowess was recognised in official capacity. Oh for sure, you may not be able to split a speeding cannonball in half like some Swordmasters boast, but you fight damn well near enough for it not to make a difference anyway. A couple of generals have even offered you a sparring session, though you have yet to take up such an offer. Judging from the wording of their offer, you couldn’t quite tell if they were propositioning you or merely angling for a good fight. Knowing the Asur, probably both. Just don’t expect any elven maidens throwing themselves at you for your deeds. Yet.

You give the beaming elf opposite you your humble opinion. His grin is infectious and by the end of the telling, you’re smiling too. It is good to see him smile you note, as of late he’s been more given to grimacing. Sometimes you forget that in Asur years, he’s technically just a young man.

“Correct, my friend. I wanted to hear it from you first before I tell you of our true mission here. The reclamation of lost colonies is just one part of this campaign, as you have been aware of for some time now. You deserve to know. I can no longer risk your life and have you act as a mere pawn while in my service.” His countenance changes, a hint of tiredness washing over him. (You would be forgiven if your instinct was to hug the momentarily despondent elf. Now, you sense, is the not time.)

He sags in his chair for the briefest moment, eyes downcast for a second before straightening with a look of renewed resolve. The High Loremaster stands, and so do you. With a word his robes, crown and staff fly to him and he garbs himself in a matter of seconds. There is the sorcerer supreme that you know. His expression is stoic, a familiar prescience settling over his proud visage.

He makes his way to the entrance and turns around, settling his azure orbs on your collar with an indecipherable look.

“Dress yourself, then meet me and the war council in a clearing just a mile south of the encampment. You will know it when you see it. You wish to serve me truly? Then follow.”

Hello there! Congratulations on making it thus far. Rest assured, future responses won’t be of quite the same length. dunks hands in ice bath

What I want to do:

In brief, an epic tale featuring smut and story in equal measure. Your character will have the centre stage as a High Elf expedition, lead by Teclis, make its way through the hot and steamy Jungles of Lustria and beyond for reasons as yet unknown. Expect to explore the ruins of ancient civilisations, fight for your life and be prepared to fuck anything that moves. Action, adventure, intrigue and plenty of lewdness await!

For those of you familiar with the Total Warhammer series you can probably guess where I’m going to get the overarching ‘meta’ plot from, albeit with some significant creative liberties in the telling. A passing familiarity with the Warhammer Fantasy setting is useful, but not necessary. Several aspects have been stretched to facilitate some good ol’ interspecies lovin’, but for the most part certain individuals and races will behave as you might expect them to. If you would like a map or two of the surrounding area then I will happily provide one.

This story will be awash with sexual content, but it will not be an endless bonk-a-thon of me serving up copious amounts of big tiddy elf gf’s for you to fuck. I mean, okay yes there will be plenty of that but it’s not going to be the sole focus. Ideally, I’m aiming to incorporate a story to smut ratio of about 70/30, maybe 80/20 as the occasion demands.

The format demands this roleplay to be long-term, it's not something that can be finished in one evening and nor I hope, would you want it to. While I will give you choices in a similar style to above, please reply with more than just your choice. One line replies of "I pick option B" aren't much fun for either of us. Although I’ll be writing as the ‘GM’, I’m keen to stress that we’re weaving this lavish tale of smut and adventure together. Cooperation and mutual enjoyment is key!

We’ll go from scene to scene, with me writing nearly every aspect of the world around your character which you have sovereign control over. No godmodding here. I have a mini roadmap of narrative beats in mind but as I can cheerfully say from experience, no need to ruin an otherwise compelling story to arbitrarily make it match it up with what I initially had in mind. The closest thing I have to my own ‘main’ character will be Teclis the High Loremaster although he can be more of a distant leadership figure at times if preferred. Romance with an individual of your choice (more to be introduced once we begin the RP) can surely be involved, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I'll write both male and female NPCs. If you're not comfortable with a male writing female characters this won't work for you as I don't plan on creating a world entirely populated by men. However, if your character is only interested in one gender, then they won't have to have any sexual contact with the other gender. While there can be ‘futa’ or ‘femboy’ individuals within the setting if you so wish, they will not be described as such within the RP.

If you like elves then you’re in luck as for the initial scene they’ll be mostly all your character will be able to interact with. They are, however, not the only race currently exploring the Jungles of Lustria; you can expect rampaging orcs, cold-blooded lizardmen, villainous dark elves, demonic err daemons and plenty more potential sexual partners beside. Ample opportunities will be given to explore the Jungle itself and beyond…

Please specify limits (sexual and non-sexual) for your character, such as a kinklist or just any important no-nos. Anything else will be assumed to be OK but I'll try to always give your character an "out" in case there's a sex scene you don't like. While the Jungles of Lustria and it’s myriad of denizens make for hardly a pleasant place at the best of times, at no point is your character going to be forced into a sexual scenario you’d prefer them not to be involved in. If we write ourselves into an undesired corner we simply rewind time! Snuff, underage elements, gore in a sexual context, vore and scat will always be big No-No’s. I won’t budge on my limits so please, do not press for them to be included.

What I want you to do:

1) Kindly take your time in filling out the simple character sheet below. You don’t need to compose your response to me in a specific format, but it would be ideal to include everything asked in some shape or form.

2) Style your character in the spirit of the setting. In other words, don’t take the backdrop of war and epic disorder too seriously. This is not the grimdark future of the 41st millennium. Neither is your character a Dark Elf. Warhammer fantasy can be pretty gritty at times but also fantastically campy. The best type of stories in this setting lie somewhere in-between. Similarly, your character can be considered powerful from the offset in their own right and gradually become more capable over the course of the RP, but please don’t make them too overpowered. Most importantly, have fun with it!

3) Send a reply by PM, plus any OOC questions you may have.

Character sheet:

Name:

Race: Human of the Empire Provinces/Human of the Kingdom of Brettonnia/Wood Elf/Vampire. You are welcome to choose a race not listed within the prompt if you are able to make a reasonable pitch for as to why they’d be willing to work under a High Elf.

Given Title: Equerry/Neophyte/Advisor. We can go into further detail of what your character’s Title and duties entail once we begin planning!

Age: Must be at least 18 years of age. Please no ‘she looks 12 but she’s actually a 1200 year-old vampire so it’s okay.’ It’s not okay.

Gender:

How you came to be taken in by the High Elves: A Debt Of Gratitude/A Chance At Glory/A Hidden Agenda/A Quest For Salvation. Again, feel free to compose your own story entirely from scratch or to blend elements of the given choices together.

Description: Include an indication of the overall physicality of your character. Don’t forget to include a brief account of your character’s personality! The more detail the better, though I always prefer a prosaic description to a boring list of statistics. Lists aren’t sexy.

Background: Any other background details you'd like to include, such as family, motivation, past accomplishments, character flaws and the like. Do bear in mind the above choices you’ve selected. Details can be added or mentioned over time, though please put some thought into your opening bio! The deeper the character, the deeper the story.

Sexuality/Orientation: Important! I need to know which genders you can interact with, and whether your character has a D/s identity.

Your preferred interaction with Teclis: Sexual/Platonic. This will require a wee bit of discussion to fine tune as there are a few possible ways in which we might want me to play him.

Kinks/Limits:

Any other sexual details: Eg– ‘I adore obtusely long prompts!’

Are you willing to play multiple characters? Y/N (Although we will start with one, if you choose Y you can add a secondary character later on which we can take equal control of.)

Aaand that’s about it from me! Whew. I sincerely hope you’ve at least found some of what you’ve read enjoyable even if you don’t fancy penning a response down. I’d like to reiterate that I’m fully aware quality writing takes time. I like to write a lot and so should you– if you’re not the type to enjoy crafting your character and musing over how they might act then this isn’t the RP for you.

To this end, please don’t feel a need to rush out a response within hours of reading to secure my interest. Some of the best responses I’ve had to this prompt in the past have come days after the initial posting, so you’re much more likely to catch my interest with a pitch that’s had some thought put into it over a couple of hastily scrawled paragraphs. Unless the flair says otherwise, I’m still looking for partners. Hope to hear from you (not too) soon! Ta ta!