I nestle down onto the forest floor, letting out a satisfied sigh as I lean back against the bark of the oak at my rear. Arching my back carefully I keep from nicking myself-- though it'd only add one more to the bunch. You see, I've just wrapped up a day's work, routing a group of bandits from the woods outside of Aurum to keep them from making the roads any more treacherous. The billowing clouds in the West, an omen foretelling increased demon-kind activity in the region, is foreboding enough without human intervention. I'm sure 'Elyia the Axe of Teluvia' will be called upon then too.

Though before you grow to concerned none of those folks so much as laid a finger on me, the wounds I've sustained are all modest cuts from fumbling around the brush, dodging sword swings and arrows, more a nuisance than anything worth fretting over. The fatigue of 3 jobs in a row without rest is far more troublesome.

The pole-arm of my heavy axe is sat across my splayed, supple legs. The mythril-edged utensil appears far too heavy for me to wield by muscular might alone, a bit of magic what allows me to use such a weapon. I stand several inches shy of six feet, pale skin still erring towards a milk white, defiant of the long hours spent in the sun. Atop my head stand two rabbit-ears, the same faded-blonde color of the straight hair which hangs down about and frames my face. At a glance, my features don't indicate my life as a mercenary, something I've taken great lengths to preserve.

From a small pouch affixed to the pommel I produce an odd trinket, gylsroot holding together a fixture of crystal and stone, emanating a blue light as it hears my voice.

"I'll be by soon, the highwaymen are dealt with. I'm hurting bad though." Of course, I don't mean I'm injured, flush rising in my cheeks while my perky chest rises and falls, tenting my blouse.

But I know you know that.

There we have it! Elyia, fierce warrioress when a job demands it, whimpering submissive when her lover(s) asks it of her. I quite enjoy this dynamic of 'person one would assume is dominant is actually a raging sub,' so that is what I'm looking for.

That brings us to you, however! You can be, well, just about whoever you like. One obvious option is the herbalist-healer or witch-doctor who will both tend to my wounds and give me the touch I'm aching for, though perhaps you're another person entirely. Hell, maybe you're merely a friend I've confided in and I'll soon head off to get my rocks off elsewhere, perhaps with you in tow.

Whatever it is, please make it original! That's all I ask. Your usual smattering of fantasy races are all on the table, as are those demon-kin, half-breeds, or whatever outright monster you might devise. Should you like to know more about me, please consult my DPP Profile.

I hope to hear from you, Elyia is eager for your company!