The heel of her boot clicked loudly against the floor with her every step.

The black leather boots shined from a thick coat of polish that had been applied religiously in their upkeep. Gold gleamed along the edges of her boots, lining them much as it similarly lined the rest of her uniform. The same fastidious care was shown to the rest of her, the stern-faced woman not allowing a single wrinkle or frayed edge to show itself upon her outfit.

Black leggings clung tightly to her thick thighs, the fabric tailored specifically, and perfectly, to her shape. Her hips pressed out against a short black skirt that was kept tapered to her waist by a red leather belt. From her belt a weapon hung on either side: A pistol of black iron and cherry wood on her right, and a gold-hilted saber kept sheathed in a black leather scabbard on her left.

Her breasts bounced with her every step, the heavy pair housed within a black top that clung to her bosom such that it left nothing of her shape to the imagination. Upon her left breast hung an insignia of her rank, a medal of gold and ruby. Her top swept up to a flared collar that wrapped tightly around her neck. The shoulders shoulders were left bare, but her arms were covered in long sleeves that were capped in crimson around the bicep. The sleeves ended just above her wrists, but underneath them she wore a pair of white gloves on her hands.

Her sky blue hair was tied up into a tight bun, leaving errant strands of her long hair to fall down to her shoulders and against her breasts. She held a stern gaze, her eyes cold in their expression, as she marched passed the line of soldiers who stood firmly at attention. They stood perfectly still, their eyes facing forward, not even one of them daring to glance at their commander.

She stopped at the very edge of the ship, her toes almost peeking out over the precipice, and gazed down over clouds beneath her. Her eyes lifted, and her darkly painted lips frowned as she beheld the armada that rose from those same clouds, dark shapes in the distance that were steadily coming closer. Her white gloved hand wrapped around the golden hilt of her saber. The sound of steel rang out as it slid from the leather sheath. She raised her arm, and thrust her sword forward, pointing its tip towards the approaching enemy. Her chin lifted back, and the men behind her shifted subtly in expectation of her command.

She reached into her breast pocket to remove a gold pocket watch. It clicked open with a press of her thumb. Her voice was cold, and stern. "I see that our enemy has arrived a few minutes late. I do not suffer such ill-mannered guests in my skies."

Ingrid turned on her heel, her boot clicking loudly against the floor as she did.

"We will burn their ships to ash. Every last one."

White: Roleplay first and foremost. Whatever happens in character.

Green: Fem-domming. Females without cocks, females with cocks, oversized insertions, lactation, excessive cum, voluptuousness.

Yellow: Non-consensual sex and rape.

Red: Scat, watersports, maiming, men in sexual roleplay.