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thesolemnhour · 11 months

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A slightly modified version of inspirations for my most prolific and neurotic brainchild! Reasoning under the cut:

Alase Brinz-Widowknife from Lost Kingdoms and King of Chaos.

I've waxed poetic plenty on how much I adore Wesley's interpretation of Old Sarkoris in Lost Kingdoms, but his present-day Sarkorian characters are just as definitive to me. Alase is a young woman who practices the old art of Godcalling, where Sarkorian summoners call on the ancient protectors of their communities. One of the last Sarkorian Godcallers in the last Sarkorian village still standing. Alase feels a deep desire to do something with her abilities and dreams of taking back to city of Undarin, where Clan Widowknife used to reside. Alase also wonders whether her eidolon Tonbarse truly has a touch of the divine or is simply a loyal companion.

This meditation on what it means to be a Sarkorian one hundred years after the Worldwound opened was so foundational to Agria's character that I named her mother after Alase and decided to make her family another branch of Clan Widowknife.

Aerith Gainsborough, from Final Fantasy 7 (remake).

When I was still trying to nail down Agria's voice, my trick was to imagine all of her dialogue as though Aerith were saying them. Aerith has this delightful combination of sweetness and forcefulness. She's a very nice girl, and you're going to do what she asks! Possibly my favorite line in the game is when she and Cloud are halfway through a plan to sneak into a mobster's house, and she's telling him the last thing he needs to do. Cloud is like, "Hold on a minute," and she says, "No can-do, Cloud. This is our plan, and you'll learn to love it!" I'll take "Things Agria has said to Woljif," for $100, Alex.

Emma Woodhouse from Austen's Emma.

When Jane Austen set herself to writing Emma, she wanted to create "a heroine no one but me will much like." Emma is often selfish, unkind, and thoughtless, but she also cares deeply about the people around her and is willing to change her mind to accommodate them. Agria, likewise, can be a bit too attached to her own way of thinking to consider anyone else's, and it's Emma I look to most when I think about the ways that Woljif forces her to consider other perspectives.

Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender.

A little bit like Emma, it's Katara's best and worst traits that make her such an influence on Agria. Katara is equally as capable of being kind, curious, and passionate as she is of being controlling and emotional. She can carry grudges and be competitive. Agria is many of these things as well, and the combination of these traits is what always brings me back to her

Kitri, from Don Quixote.

Kitri, my love! From her very first entrance to the ballet, Kitri effortlessly commands the attention of those around her. After every movement, it's like she turns to the audience to say, "Ta-DA!" She is fiery and joyful and alive! She has enormous spirit and insists on having things her way. She's a bit of a brat (affectionate). She is who I look to when I want to represent Agria being a drama queen.

Evgenia Medvedeva, Russian figure skater and Olympic silver medalist.

There is a kind of insanity at the heart of athletes that I'm obsessed with. A sense that if you just push yourself hard enough, you will accomplish everything you want. Evgenia Medvedeva has so much of this, and I am convinced she is the most intense person who has every lived. "As soon as you take it easy," she explained in one documentary, "you get nowhere. You're the same as everyone else." Are you sure about that, two-time world champion, Evgenia Medvedeva?? But it's never enough. That's Agria!

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#cant believe i forgot emma and alase the first time hope i die #ag tag #pwotr pals

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bobelblogger · 5 months

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Comar & Phay

Bomara

Comar

Mell

Phay the Piper

Sisterhood of Ink and Art (witch's ink, drink and paint.)

Clemira Faschel Hyade Jallmaw Eprodeen

Webtits Firelips Prixkin Werebear Hentauride

Alase II, fitful favoured fanatic with kinks who wants her wings, hates cocks.

Vanik VI, mundane who wants all women submissive but dresses as one.

-------

Shaving his head meticulously hairless, to get one cut meant illness then dying of infection.

Still one is obligated to at least groom it, his beard grew twice as fast, thick and coarse enough he had difficulty in finding a blade fine enough to cut it, his arms and legs too.

It was the only area unkissed by Joyoro other than his ass, long since sold his sacred face to a collector, out of the dry climate his sand dusty smoothed skin tanned to a crisp sheen, bald as birth.

Far and away from his land with nothing save his wit and cart of wares claimed after battles and plagues, likewise his garments fit a younger man's build to blend in to this part of the land, ill sized due to gained fat had torn the sleeves off the worn out purple jacket.

His gut hung a little over the torn knee length trousers, used to going barefoot but the ground was too soggy and living for his liking, in place for the time shod his feet in whittled bone shoes.

Joined by Mell who he took from a pig face young noble that laughed at his misfortune when a wheel broke on his cart once, knocked him off the beast, stripped him to underclothes and made him into a spare tied to it two miles of bellyaching until his legs gave out and he left him, had to catch and calm his mount, now he willingly pulled his cart.

Traveling far over land, he would find the high hill between two rivers upon it a tall tower in which his sib may be, the mother who bore him would see it through.

At a split the road right seemed less traveled along fields of crops, the left road was paved which meant a toll and town and answering questions.

Steering Mell right humming a tune his third lover used to, a comely widow noble with tastes for using a riding crop pink leather corsets and furry manacles, as her courtesan and play thing for six days before the fun became dull and he didn't want it anymore, he made a clay cast of his cock for her and left in the night with some valuables.

His trade with twin part Fae sister bandits of chainmail and stilettos they lacked coin for his payment so he had the night and morning with both.

The youngers mostly smooth form he likened to a spindly waif with short hazel hair who danced for him then they drank to futures amid burning incense, traded long kisses and going further traced ribs nibbled ears and blew on their belly holes building eachother up.

Finally she gave a wink and nod he dove into her without reserve pulling her legs back even with her head as he reamed her cleft crevice she arched squeezing her soles on his neck in reaction he reached around to her ass gripping it with the resolve of a cliffhanger on the edge.

Cool night air mingled with the warm shroud of fire as utterances between the two in throes of mating seemed to birth a dialect after countless ins and outs broke off and together as one released a generation coating the other in slick love juices, satisfied and drunk began whistling and snapping her sticky fingers as they cleaned up.

The elders fuller marred body told of disease and self healing for naught, braided hazel hair draped around her ears and face from brow to cheek, the rest coiled up serpent style with twigs at the back of the scalp in two heaps, Her shoulders and elbows bore ink of curious shapes.

No warm up just strolled to a secluded stream at sunrise and skin to skin wrestled for top place, he let her, she insisted that he lay still as she rode him like a mount as her breasts slapped his face he sucked them gingerly fanning an ember of submission he immediately snuffed by using her udders to finish him before she stormed off cursing him in her singy melodic tongue as he collected himself and made a hasty exit.

The most bountiful set of breasts he beheld on a trip along the shore of his homeland, this heavy set maroon maned woman from the water sans top asks for help finding it among the rocks and weeds she'd swam near, of course he readily accepted with his skills in tracking and deduction, appeared with the garment promptly to a thankful damsel who thusly pulled down her swimwear to gift a glimpse of her bushy twat, quite a piece of trimmed turf.

With a 'screw me' whisper in her husky voice, offered herself kneeling in the surf, alot of tity flapping later had his cock spurting seed over her cheeks and back before carrying and leaving her spread on a dune wearing nil but a grin ear to ear, forgoing any farewells.

Snapped back to now and found a hand on his junk, down his pants amid his mental musings had undone his belt and got busy waxing his pole.

'I yearn for a woman, whence be the next village?'

First smells of rain and moss and a hint of brine, heard the swish swash of running water, greeting his sight a span of rushing river, over it a log and post arch bridge enough for a single carriage or two riders.

Coming closer into better ear shot the commotion of an argument amid screams drowned in river sounds brought him to attention as the scene unfolded like a festival act and he was the lucky sole witness.

Four figures stood in the midst and seemed to be pushing one of them towards the rail, screaming and shouting intertwined something about a scroll or a troll and lord or order, more concerned at having to deal with them if he wanted to get by unhindered, made an overture to greet the bunch he stepped onto the surely in need of repair construct.

"If it isn't midday whistle til blue, how goes the day for you four fine folk of this land?" A mock accent he picked up.

The lot looked in his direction but due to Joyoro and the hoods worn couldn't tell if they were soldiers or fishers.

"Its a day to be minding ones own affairs and less of asking others theirs." Spoken by the shortest of the four.

A hand over brow provided reprieve he saw more clearly, axes and boiled leather curassis on all but one of them.

"So what's a man to do should his affairs be blocked by someone in pursuit of their own?" He swapped to mournful.

"Give us a fare and then be quick if passage is what ye want," informed a angry feminine voice.

"Well that seems fair." Hand in the cart from a sack seven mint coin, smoothed far too much to see the maker.

"The sea swallowed my fortune and family, now I roam dealing in wares." He said leading Mell forward.

"Get along old man don't come this way on your return trip, don't think about today or talk about it tomorrow."

Now closer the three arrayed in a triangle around the fourth, skin bared nay for a threadbare rouge cloak and one shabby boot, gagged by a cloth with her neck and hands bound with cords, her grey eyes glanced up.

Had nearly passed the lot when he stopped and turned with a balled fist to one of the brigands and held the coin out in open palm at almost the same moment his cart rolled back onto the foot of the leader.

The man who habitually reached to grab the payment as his partner hollered rather girlishly in pain was given a quick right hook that sent him stunned to the logs, hearing the damsels muffled wailing as she struggled with the remaining rogue attempting to throw her from the bridge.

Calmly he patted Mell on the head then he took the axe from the thugs belt and tossed it in the water before walking around the side opposite the pinned leader.

"Not to worry flatfoot I'll get to ya in a minute." Comar walked to the third hoodlum as he grabbed the damsel by her neck and bent her on the rail seconds from flipping her over it.

Deftly pulling off his belt began to lash the bandit who turned his focus as the storm of leather was rained thusly on him, recoil erroneously striking the damsel on the back as well.

He drew his axe Comar ducked the first swipe and parried the second as he landed a hit on the man's face the courage was driven from him then he tried to run but didn't get far as a resounding thwack of the belt sent him tumbling seeing birds.

Amid all this the bellyaching of the lead bandit cut off as the damsel had jumped on their back with her bonds began choking the life out of them.

Comar buckled his belt pried the weapon from the man's grip and tucked it in as he walked towards the two.

Whistled to Mell and the cart rolled forward just as the damsel was flipped into it and carried away.

"Bastard, who the fuck are you?" The sole bandit with a busted right foot and out of breath rasped.

"I'm Infallible, drop those weapons, you'll soon be on your knees in a moment." Comar duly stated with a grin.

"Oh really, you bald fat ass munch!" In a single fluid motion drew her axes to throw.

Seeing the look in her eyes the way hurt prey sees the jaws of death, looking beyond her noted Mell with the cart then noticed the lady noticed his eyes and in hers made a deadly change of target.

"Fuck your shit, vexslut spawn." She cursed and spat.

Her rear was to him before he got in fist or foot range at his pace she darted to evade the hit she saw coming.

Comar didn't bother to close the gap with her nearly reaching the end of the bridge so he made a decision.

Chucked his whittled shoe with accurate aim nailed her in the butt and slowing down the next hit the back of her head, sent sprawling to the railings one axe slipped her grasp the other wretched from her hand by a caught up Comar, sliding down the post turned to face him, spat and cursed before looking up to speak.

"What you gonna do with me, you 'cough' bald asscrack." She mocked with a slight hint of dread.

"Strip or the belt, you choose which or I do both." He replied.

"I've had worse, far worse than that, you know nothing of pain." She drooled on Comars left foot.

Pulling back her hood at the nape he recoiled mentally at the scars, potmarks, scabs, cuts and burns all over her discolored face and neck, mushed nose, behind cracked dry lips a mouth of crooked teeth, vacant pale blue eyes, a thicket of dusty twisted blond locks around her long thin arrowhead ears in knots, part Fae?

"Ha, you can't even--" deftly he foot checked her back against the rail post and she went out like a torch in rain.

Checking both over for concealed weaponry, removed their leather armor and tied them together by their wrists to the post putting the rope they intended to hang the damsel from the bridge with to better use.

Stripping the green trousers off one man the beige spun undershirt off the second man and the leather boots and surprisingly in good repair brown stockings off the woman, left them the coin, fair trade, if they woke before the next traveler passed.

Mell was grazing through reeds, damsel was still out and undressed so he removed the gag, tossed the cloths over her nearly nude body and kept walking the road with a slightly quicker pace then before to get settled before dark.

-------

Before Horra rose he made camp in a small tree copse near a water hole prepped for an ambush Comar set his watertight cover up over Mell, placed a comfy rug under the cart with the damsel and posted himself under the thick canopy of a tree, one tripline around them with chimes, heavy enough to avoid critters and wind.

Soon the mind waned and eyes started to wax, lest he forget a quick yank envisioned his wished for woman, sturdy pursed lips unveiling pristine teeth, deep set eyes below them a prominent nose, above them thin brows, big ears amid waist length hair or bald but for a stalk of braid at the top, a handhold if it be possible.

Short angular feet and long splayed toes with painted nails, legs thin and toned with a inked serpent coiling up to enter its burrow, knob knees bent, muscled midriff and firm rump, hands of a potter with long fingers, arms thick and lightly fuzzed, coppablly perky breasts framed with feminine shoulders.

Her garb nothing more then that with which to maintain modesty of personal parts, be it her proclivity, hot places require little covering.

A more appealing thought was twins like he once had, can't go wrong with double hands, mouths and vales to make use of on demand, feet too.

Drifting betwixt a plain rock beginning to be carved and a fired clay effigy taking clearer form, a feminine pair of glowing hands not his own reached for his trousers easing them down and took hold of his thick malehood, two dozen tugs got him to burst all over the floating limbs and his own legs, who beckoned then led him to a pond with reeds for privacy began to bath him, splashing him and working his bag and shaft while pinching his cheeks, rinsing and repeating until a thin pale face contentedly smack its coated lips along with the hands sink into the water without a ripple.

Yet he wanted more, he deserved more, he dove into the water searching for the helpful hands, ripping the bed of weeds and stirring mud up, aware his need for breath pushed up to get some, a unseen thing held him down as the water thickened with dirt blurred his sight, what was happening to him? 'breath or else die, do it right now!'

As he inhaled the feeling of floating and sinking at the same time overcame his lungs begging for air nearly broke the surface before his vision blanked.

His ears picked up a melding of natural and woodwind sounds, his nose picked up sweet smells, his eyes opened to redness and blurry focus turning into a shapely set of pearly pinkish cheeks pushed into a brown thong straddling pink sole arched feet ending in curled toes color blue nails arms length from him, Comar was leaning against a tree on his side sat up and felt his pants and vest, dry and cleansed.

The mysterious minstrel continued to play with more hip and head moves while adding a slight bounce of toned tushy on its haunches and feet flexing with the tune as Comar saw the back bone move under the pale skin, along it shiny (glyphs/signs/puzzles/scars.) ran up to a quiver sheath and straps crossing under and over her shoulders partly hidden by blue braids that swayed and swung with each twist of movement, the neck hidden in a thin curtain of blue topped by a portion fashioned like wings tipped in yellow, but most rousing of all the dirk shaped ears jutting out and behind her hairdue.

Comar slowly rose to his knees then with one quick motion on his feet to brawl if that outcome be likely, it was not in his better judgement to assume this person was passive without some trick as a fallback, without question.

Looking about, his tripline lay untouched and the cart in place but the damsel was gone, the cover was most certainly empty, Mell was up someplace grazing outside the camp, he couldn't have eluded the line without help, should it be after his beast, why stick around to wake him?

First he noted over head a small circle of bugs hovered one way with a smaller circle above going the other.

"Hey bard what's your aim waking me up with that noise, did your music or scent get them to follow you here?"

The song stopped and the bugs scattered with some fuss, unfazed and maybe partly able to understand sat up she took her right hand itched her right butt cheek then in a blink was on her feet facing him, nodded and waved in greeting.

Her chest bared skin but four thin stripes across her milkbags, all met at a ring jeweled with stones that glitered, wrapped on her right arm a creatures hide of sorts and her left arm a mark, gray eyes quizzical and inquisitive, brows like they were etched on, plum nose bearing a pale blue dot on the left and lips curled in a knowing grin.

"Devi sosk lix mor--I'm just rutting with you, I can't recall my birth tongue, short memory, that kind of thing."

'Maybe her friends are nearby or she's single, no weapons so she must be relying on some backup.'

"What breed of Fae are you, what are you doing in my camp and what's your name, if you still remember it."

"Faecist much, I'm here to make harmonious cheer, not of any breeds you care to say!"

She leaped in mid air to poignantly land standing on her hands while flexibly posing her legs in nearly any configuring in the mind, walking on her palms ducked into a roll and popped up again on her knees.

"As of thy last question, I'm Phay and I greet the morn light with a song or a tune, this is my way." Phay informed.

"You think waking others up with your humbug is well mannered, what's the meaning of it?" Comar stated.

Her stance changed as she looked at the dirt and admitted "Know I must, or mist and misery will come."

Without a word Comar turned and began drawing in his trip lines to break camp, food would have to wait until later.

Ignoring his half a mind to give her butt a thrashing for unwanted rousing, Whistled for Mell while folding up the watertight cover on his cart, she didn't move or say a thing as he did this but felt her eyes all over him.

Mell hitched and camp broken taking his leave for the road was soon lost in his musing of the time he dug for rumored lost treasure for one Murra on this dried lake, nearly went mad as his partner in the effort, a high born learned woman called Nysia, kept whinging that he was doing it wrong and would tempt him with her pudgy form but became offended if he moved to act on it, after a particularly long and nasty diatribe he saw a chance to shut her mouth for good, he drank his water ration and hid the remaining leaving her one choice, clam up or go thirsty, she stripped bare to stay cool as her threats were met with mirth, eventually she accepted the terms stayed quiet as they dug in return was given water, after which one near self burial led her giving up and they parted with nothing but some hard words and some holes left as reward.

"Hey big bald baby face, what's your name and race, If I guess them in your company I'll quest then!" Phay insisted.

"Leave me Fae sprite I walk in company with none, my name and people are not in the tongue of any but mine."

"Your skin glosses like a roast, thy name ye refuse to boast, I'll wager you are of the coast and Joyoros host."

She was getting warmer and naturally more annoying so he began to whistle a tune rather loudly with gusto.

At this point the road came into view as daylight grew brighter and his stomach grumbled, looked and pulled out.

Phay's steps matched Comar's as his frustration and irritation swelled, of all the ill's endured this was peak idiocy.

enough with the Chora Chit Chat

"N-no please no, have my mouth instead, I've more practice with it, my vale and bum are unspoilt by choice."

His father had personally slain or captured three dozen favoured and sold them to witchbreakers, in fairness they were making various plots and schemes to destroy stuff and refused to quit streaking by moonlight.

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