"Noblesse Oblige." The Tyrant Queen had uttered, as she strode before us. We shivered in robes hastily pulled over us, as we were dragged from the reisanctum; for all the good it's sacred protection offered. I glared at her as best I could, though the tears would no longer fall. I felt only a cold, emptiness. The silhouette of my Father and brothers hanging from racks her soldiers had mounted above the gates. Stripped of their armour, their bodies tarred to keep them from rotting too quickly - they scarcely looked elven. Perhaps that is how I managed not to fall to my knees in sorrow. Her voice snapped, "For me, that means the survival of my people, my nation. That I must expand that they might live. Flourish rather than freezing and shivering in the miserable poverty the League of Feifs has enforced upon us for so long. The same League that offered your Father such generous terms for the produce your fertile lands grant you." Her cold eyes glared at us; and I could see her hatred. It wasnt just envy, she meant what she said. Her homeland was a frozen, mountainous land of jagged peaks and little resource. It's people were hardy, and dour. For years their only exports had been stubborn mercinaries and Wyvern leather. Wyverns thought impossible to tame. Until now. A terror on villages in the winter months, and worse in the spring when their eggs hatched and their young brayed for fresh meat. My thoughts were broken as she continued her pacing before us. Next to her an older man, tall and fair haired like his Queen lingered. Dressed in the mantle of a holy man, he teased open the pages of a tome - waiting for something. "So.." The Fel Queen paused, "For you all noblesse oblige, shall mean something else. Your duty is now to me, your duty shall be to 'our' people. For that is the responsibility all wives share with their Queen."
Wife? My eyes blinked from their numbness, I felt myself gasp. I clutched for my sister's hand next to me - pulling her behind me on protective impulse. The Queen's eyes spared me a glance, a cold sweep of her blue eyes flickered for a moment, "... Atleast one of you is listening." She snapped her fingers, and there was the rattle of chains, the soft groan of muffled voice. I looked to the source and felt my heart break. My Mother was dragged before us, her armour dented and buckled. Her staff gripped in the hands of an enemy soldier; I couldn't manage to find pride in the fact she had likely taken many into death before she was brought low, the spectre of Father's death loomed too close. "Duchess Lasanere Verre of The Gris Isles." The Tyrant Queen addressed her, "I bring you here now, that you might address our new agreement before your daughters. You shall become one of my Queens, your daughters my concubines and they shall remain heirs to governance of Gris. Though, they shall fall in succession after any children that bear my blood. Henceforth this land shall become a province of the Empire of Ilveresk. In return for your lives and the protection of your people beneath our banner, you shall endure." My Mother's fingers curled into fists; the eastern doors to the throneroom cracked open, and there was a reptilian hiss, and the heavy falls of feet. All of us shifted away from the beast. A massive wyvern, which slunk slowly into the room. "You know the alternative." The Queen uttered, coldly. I saw the colour drain from Mother's skin as her eyes shifted to us; a tear escaping from one of her beautiful eyes down over her cheek. It would feast upon us, until she broke? Her teeth grit, as she lowered her head and uttered, "We accept your terms, Butcher." Henceforth, the fate of Gris was changed, and I was no longer a daughter of House Verre; which became no-more. My Mother was pulled next to the Queen, as their holy man began the rites to bind her in marriage. A soldier pulled the signet rings of Verre from our fingers, and instead we were all presented amulets - adorned with the poisonous sigil of the Wyvern Crown.

{Name}: Seraphine Verre
{Region of Birth}: The Gris Isles
{Status}: Lady of Gris, Concubine of the Wyvern Crown
{Race}: High Elf
{Description}: -

Standing at average height for an elf, with silken raven hair spilling from the crown of her head, this green-eyed beauty stands nearby. Her lips painted a sanguine shade, draw into perhaps a bitter-sweet expression as she regards the world around her. She wears fashionable clothes; though nothing regal beyond the quality of the cloth and leather. Her boots could be swapped for a rugged boot, and her corset for an armoured jacket and she could easily take the field; rarely is a well-stocked quiver of bolts not upon her hip and a crossbow is worn slung across her back. At the small of her back hangs a dagger.
Seraphine's figure is pleasantly curved, a fulsome busom contrasted by the muscular tone of her waist. Broad hips blossom beneath, supporting a rather large derriere which was toned rather than doughy and soft. Long legs propel her with a purposeful stride; long and graceful which are usually graced by a strongly heeled boot.

{Other}: At the base of this woman's back, just above her taut buttocks is a tattoo; the dark ink stands starkly against her flesh. A collection of flowing lines which form a heart; where the top curves together, the lines twist into a pair of scorpion-tailed stingers.

~{OOC}~

Some Favourites: Roughness, Addiction, Anal, Banter During Scenes, Big Dicks, Choking, Cock Slapping, Collars, Cum (Lots of It), Deepthroat, Beastial Traits (Beastmen, Horns, Tails, e.t.c), Hair Pulling, Breastplay, Yanking On Her Ears, Nut Huffing/Scent Play, Wyverns/Dragons, Consequences (Pregnancy, Hatred, Revenge, Love, Intrigue, e.t.c).

Reds: Pedo, Overtly Descriptive Gore, Vore (Physical), Infantilism, Poop, Thirsty Tell Spam.