Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Vinland (Jokerama og JanÅgeSolstad)

Most men tied their hair back to keep it out of their faces. Others opted for braids, others kept their hair functionally short, and others still opted for more extreme solutions. Kjartan had seen them all, from dreadlocks, to wax, to colored bits of cloth with names or slogans dyed into them. What he had never seen was another man who did as he did and simply let his hair grow long and straight and trust it to stay out of his eyes. At the moment, Kjartan's hair reached down to the middle of his back. It might get longer still, but at a point, even he found it unfunctional--it might impede the use of his deadliest weapon, the bow. That thought made him remember that he was next to alone and unarmed in a strange land. True, he still had the knife that his savior had given him, but other than that, he was on a strange horse going through a strange chasm to an unknown destination. He was a single mistake or miscommunication from death. And this death would not be one worth voyaging to Valhalla over. With renewed caution, Kjartan scanned the area ahead. But Vinland was harmless. Picturesque, really. It wasn't hard to bite back nostalgia over the grand fjords and ice cliffs that defined his fatherland when vast expanses of green forest were displayed before him. Vinland was good country, he could tell just by looking at it. The grass was green, and that meant it rained frequently. The trees were tall and strong and that meant that there were few environmental catastrophes to flatten or weaken them. All of this meant that hunting in Vinland had to be fantastic--and apart from that, Kjartan realized, it was almost winter. Whereas at home it was snowing and freezing cold already, Vinland seemed to be enjoying a warm sunny spring day. Incredible. He found himself dismounting from his steed at the words of his savior. Water was a welcome sight, but Kjartan was nothing if not reserved. And so rather than rushing forward and diving in, he took his time stripping off his shirt and folding it up, before adding the rest of his clothes and shoes except for a brief undergarment, as if with dignity, before wading into the stream. He waded in so deep that soon he was in up to his head, at which point he waded back out. Then, and only then, did he drink. Evidence of his maltreatment was on his back. The gashes weren't terribly deep, but there were many of them, and some of them still looked painful. The good news was that they didn't seem to be infected and that Kjartan was moving with a considerable mount of agility and strength, all things considered. He didn't swagger as much as he was accustomed to, but at least he wasn't on death's door. After he drank, Kjartan knelt and spent a moment washing his face and hair. He then turned to look at his savior again, his face impassive. He seemed to be analyzing her, or perhaps memorizing every last detail of her. At least his gaze wasn't sexual, at least, not obviously. A moment later, he indicated to himself and said his name again. Then he extended a hand toward her and gave her an inquisitive look, as if asking her for her own name.
Thread: Vinland (Jokerama og JanÅgeSolstad)

Liluye. So that was her name. It was as foreign to Kjartan as Vinland itself, but the way it rolled off of his tongue wasn't unpleasant. There was something very feminine about it, and, for a moment, Kjartan reflected on the names women often adopted in his homeland. Sigrid, Freyja, Bertha... in comparison, Liluye was rather exotic. Exotic, and pleasant. Her dainty fingers touched his chest so lightly that it was as if they weren't there at all, and yet they left a lingering sort of warmth that took Kjartan a moment to recognize. Of course, her near nudity and the way she clung to his hand and walked just in front of him with her waist just a few inches above the water... that certainly helped to guide his mind where she seemed to be leading it. And then they entered a scene that might have shamed Asgard itself. A waterfall in a canyon that had been carved, over the eons, but the river itself. It was warm and sunny enough that Kjartan's pale skin was already starting to redden he solved this by stepping into a shadowed section of the scene. He raised his hands to his face to splash himself with another palmful of water, and then he straightened his hair again. It was hard to imagine that it had only been forty-some days ago when he and some two dozen of his village's finest had left their fatherland, and their wives and their children. Kjartan, of course, had neither the former nor the latter, so the decision to go had been easy, and he hadn't sympathized with those who humiliated themselves by shedding tears in the embraces of weaker people. Nor had he felt homesickness other than a lingering sort of nostalgia for the fjords, even when the storm's treacherous waves had tossed and turned their ship. And then, of course, they had alighted on the beach and, except for him, fought a battle to the death with hordes of the skrling scum. Only he had lived, and that was only because of more skrlingjar... But even then, the alliance was not set in stone. He had seen the look that clumsy oaf had given him, the one who had knocked him to his knees. What a glorious warrior, Kjartan thought, to dare to knock him to his knees after days of dehydration, fasting, and torture had weakened him. In any other state, he would have turned on his heel, glared, and then separated the upstart's head from his shoulders. Perhaps he still would, given time. But for now, he had to shore up his allegiances. and there was no mistaking the way this female skrling, this warrior, was looking at him. Even the way she walked was seductive. And all of it, he knew, was intentional. And so he too acted with intention. He fixed his gaze on her. Deep azure blue, evocative, convincing, and they'd never failed him before. He had only to take a step toward her to touch lips with her, and then, he knew, she was his.
Thread: Vinland (Jokerama og JanÅgeSolstad)

As I lead us out of the shrub area - the stream lead to a bigger pool of water. The pool of water was supported by a large waterfall. The waterfall plunged over the cliff of the canyons and poured into the water that lead through all of the canyons in this area. It was a truly breath taking sight. It was a hidden area not clearly accessible to the general public, if there was even a public to tend to. The water here was untouched, undisturbed and crystal clear. It was water and nutrition in its cleanest form. Not plagued with parasites, and not riddled with filth. I had always wandered off on my own, since a very young age. I would scavenge the areas everyone I went too. It was a deep desire to explore - a dangerous curiosity that always lead me to places like these. I was a hawk, after all. Named after the finest flying creatures - a title given to me for my remarkably clear grey eyes. An eye color that was mostly rare in our heritage - said to have been gifted by the spirits for meaningful purpose. What that purpose was, I had yet to figure out. But I knew I was destined for something great something different. This natural sanctuary was indeed was a heavenly place - one that only I knew. And I hadn't shared it with anyone... Until now. Why I had brought you here, I had no idea. Why you of all people? These were the questions I didn't bother asking myself - I just followed what I felt I should be doing - and it lead me here... With you. Just as I softly let go of your hand, I undid the prices of string that held my hair in braids. I ran my fingers through my hair several times over before all of my crimped hair had fallen well past my shoulders. I turned around to catch you looking at me, and smiled. That smile slowly diminished as I noticed the gaze in your eyes. As you leaned closer towards me your face inching forward to mine - I stopped breathing momentarily. What was this strange pale man doing? Was he so thankful that he would devote his lips to mine? As your kiss brushed me - I was at a loss of breath unable to fathom this interaction. Perhaps this is what the spirits wished me in my destiny - I was to bond with a foreigner, and mend the rivalry between us. My two index fingers snaked lightly around the rim of your under garments - using it was leverage to pull you closer to my body. I sank my lips into yours, embracing the compassion I was receiving, completely. I was yours.
Thread: Vinland (Jokerama og JanÅgeSolstad)

For the briefest sliver of a second, Kjartan sensed her hesitation, her trepidation. What if she rejected him? What if she did to him what she had done to the oaf who had dropped him to his knees? Would he be alone in Vinland again? Or worse, would she just do to him what the other group of skrlingjar had done to him, and do it right? And then he felt her melt into his grasp. His arms wrapped about her body, petite and lithe and limber, yet rippling with strength and life. She was everything a woman ought to be sweet, and soft, but deadly, dangerous, and wild. He'd never hold her, he knew, not really, but he could have her for just a few moments. Just a few moments. Her hands undressed him, and in a moment, his hands undressed hers. He spent a moment feeling her, holding her, as their kisses deepened, and then he lifted her into his arms so that her legs were wrapped around him, and then he entered her. It had been so long since he'd had a woman, and so harsh were his sufferings, and so beautiful was she that Kjartan could only like for a few moments. Just a few shallow, hot up and down thrusts, and he was spent. But he held her for a long, long time afterwards, and kissed into her face, her hair, her lovely little neck if she would let him. When he finally released her, they were on a sanded bank at the side of the canyon. Breathlessly he leaned over her and shared a few final kisses with her, his hair disheveled, running down the side of his face. And then--impossibly--he began to speak to her, in her language. Liluye, he said. Future... I be better. His words were crude and his accent made him difficult to understand, but he had picked up enough of their language already to make himself understood. And the way he continued to look deep into her eyes, told her that there would be many, many times in the future, when he would show her just how good he could be when he was rested and well fed. In order to drive up the drama and interpersonal conflicts, shall we have your character's gentleman of a cousin watch them, and report back to his fellows about her impropriety?
Thread: Worlds Collide [HeavenSundered x Inwiththebooks]

The Empress suddenly took a couple of long strides towards her, and Izumi drew in a quick breath as the edge of her own tanto was pressed against her throat, threatening to empty her of her lifeblood with just one easy swipe. The tension instantly visible in her face and in her body as her stomach was sucked in and her chest was pushed forward and up slightly all spoke to the fact that she did indeed fear death, but it wasn't in the same manner as most people. Izumi's fear of death - or desire to live - contributed to keeping her alive in battle, always giving her something to strive and fight for no matter how dismal the situation seemed, but she'd accepted long ago that dying was a possibility, and even a probability. It was a fear that she'd learned to control and harness to a certain degree. She tilted her head up and raised her eyes to meet Selana's as the woman towered over her, extending her neck and making it even more vulnerable in the process. Izumi could tell from the Empress' scintillating, almost unnatural golden eyes that she'd killed before, and personally, not only though her armies, but she maintained a steely resolve in her own gaze, unwilling to let herself be intimidated by this obvious posturing. She didn't believe that the Empress intended to slay her mere moments after they'd come face to face, especially when considering all of the effort and ceremony the noblewoman had gone through get her to this place. Izumi allowed herself to relax when the blade was finally withdrawn, controlling her breath as she exhaled slowly. On top of the relief of still being alive, she also considered it a good sign as she watched the Empress beckon over an elderly man with eastern features before conversing with him briefly. He was not from Naginaryu, that much much was clear, but probably from one of the deserts to the west judging by his duskier, weather-beaten skin. Still, he must have had some ability to translate for the Empress to bother with him, which was already a far cry better than little to no possibility for communication at all. Her expectations were met only with further frustration and disappointment, however, as the Empress turned her attention away from her and back towards the noblewoman. It seemed that this woman too was intent on treating her as being less than human, a slight which Izumi swore to herself she would not allow to go unpunished. They made her stand there like a dumb whore, nude and shackled in full view of countless onlookers while they conversed before the Empress had her taken away by the guards. Izumi was getting exceedingly tired of this routine. This time, she was quite restless when they locked her into yet another cage, but there was little for her to do other than pace through the small space.
Thread: Worlds Collide [HeavenSundered x Inwiththebooks]

The celebrations were always long and somewhat tiring affairs for Selana, undeniably dull as well with noble after noble fishing for something or another as they simpered and bowed. It was expected of her to host these events during her birthday, though at times tradition felt more of a shackle. The only other entertainment she found was when two nobles ended up getting into a drunken fist fight, her guards intervening after a while. She truly would have preferred a day at the Bloodpit, where matches were being held all day in her honor. Instead she sat upon her throne looking pretty in her robes. Some of the other offerings were rather pleasing, a mace taken from a northern barbarian chief as well as animal bones used in their strange rituals. These odd gifts were more welcome than gold or jewels or livestock sacrifices. Her personal wealth was beyond measure as the treasury overflowed from her recent campaigns north. She enjoyed things that were unique, much like her new slave and her equipment. None of the gifts approached that one but she appreciated thought nonetheless. Nobles were more often than not regarded as little more than leeches in her eyes, those few that possessed intelligence and competence were ones she snatched up quickly for high positions. Like seats on the Senate. The festivities in the palace started winding down as evening crept over the city, allowing the Empress to excuse herself finally. She winced as she stood from her throne, her rump aching for having sat for hours on end. Maximus escorted her towards the more private areas of the palace, two of the guard in tow. Some rulers had met their end at the blades of the Phoenix Guard, hence why when she had come to power she had ordered the Imperial Army to purge them and replaced them with loyal soldiers she had fought beside in the north. The Senate had whined but that was really all they did these days. Have the foreigner brought below and have Shieh report there as well, I want to know everything about this warrior. Selana ordered. Do you believe she is a spy? Maximus inquired, his tone raspy from an old throat injury. A high possibility. I find it unlikely a warrior of a foreign nation would just stumble into Antara for no reason. The man bowed slightly before hurrying off to carry out her orders. Selana herself walked down the long steps leading to her interrogation room. The dimly lit space would more accurately been called a torture room really. Cruel instruments were spaced all around the room, whips coiled upon the wall, restraining devices spaced all around the room, and a bed of hot coals burning nicely in the corner. The walls leading down possessed strange marks on them, on closer inspection one would note they were nail marks from prisoners trying desperately to not be taken below. Once her guards arrived with both slave and translator in tow Selana jerked her head towards a far wall with a nasty set of blood soaked manacles on them. Restrain her belly flat against the wall and then leave us. The Empress commanded.
Thread: Worlds Collide [HeavenSundered x Inwiththebooks]

Selana had expected some form of resistance from her captive however what she witnessed went far beyond her expectations. Like a tightly coiled spring the warrior sprang into action, her movements the product of many years of training. Her translator, Shieh, watched with naked alarm while the Empress seemed more fascinated than anything else. She herself was no great warrior and was at best a middling swordswoman as such witnessing great martial skill was quite the treat. Her hand wandered to her sword hilt in caution all the same as the other guards by the door finally moved to deal with her. Her adrenaline was pumping and her heartrate rose as she watched the scuffle play out close at hand, an almost erotic high gained from it. One of the men was surely going to die and the other was unconscious, however numbers prevailed over skill as always. With some difficulty the woman was restrained to the wall and the fallen were dragged away, leaving the Empress and her translator alone with the warrior. Shieh looked fairly shaken up by the whole exchange however Selena was even more curious about this creature than before. Her skills were superb and fire in her burned more brightly than she had seen in a long time. Shieh, I want you to try and translate my words as well as you can to her. Ill keep them as simple as possible. Selana stated. The Empress moved closer to the captive woman and pressed her hand down on the small of her back, her fingers warm to the touch. Her hand trailed upward until it reached her hair, Selanas fingers gripping a handful of hair and jerking the foreigners head back. The Empress figured it best to offer her the same chance offered to all that were dragged into this room. Selana would know before this day was done whether she was a spy or not, either from a screamed confession or by pushing her to a point no one would conceal information at. Why did you come to Antara? Are you a spy? Tell me the truth and I will spare you greater pain. I will already be punishing you for killing one of my men. The Empress inquired, her translator giving an accurate enough approximation of the words. Selanas eyes trailed over the patterns on the womans back and noticed that she had yet to be branded yet. A courtesy from Adelia no doubt as slaves to the Imperial Court were marked with different brands, yet another example of her intelligence. The Empress had seen similar patterns that the northern barbarians had painted upon themselves. The difference here was that the tattoos here were seamless, an art inscribed on to flesh. It added to an already exquisite beauty and added some air of mystery to the woman.
Thread: Worlds Collide [HeavenSundered x Inwiththebooks]

Izumi stirred slightly when she felt the Empress' touch against her back, and she managed to regain her footing instead of hanging by her wrists, though her legs still felt weak and unsteady. The left side of her face still stung vividly, and the ringing between her ears had only just begun to partially subside when the other woman roughly jerked her head back so that she was staring up towards the ceiling. The Empress spoke a few brief sentences for the translator to repeat in an imperfect but comprehensible Naginaran, and it was all that Izumi could do to listen at this point, the bitter taste of failure and defeat still fresh on her tongue. You killed your own man by showing me no respect and allowing him to dishonor me, she practically snarled back. And if my nation wanted to spy on yours, no doubt they could have found another who was far less conspicuous than me, would you not agree? Izumi added, clearly referencing how her tattoos caused her to stand out, typically an undesirable trait in a spy. She head little reason not to refute the accusation of being a spy, but she was unwilling to give away the true purpose of her venture into Antara. Not only did Izumi not wish for the traitor Takomoru to fall into a potential enemy's hands, but it was also not her place to reveal her daimyo's orders.
Thread: Worlds Collide [HeavenSundered x Inwiththebooks]

Selana frowned at the words returned to her, the translation imperfect but she was able to get the gist of the womans meaning. Her fingers left her hair as she stalked around the room, making a show of examining each cruel implement in its turn. On the inside she scoffed at her refusal on the basis of her tattoos, as though that would overly impede the process of spying. Just the refusal a spy might make under interrogation. It seemed she would need to do this the hard way as she had not answered either question really. Besides the murder did warrant punishment. You are unworthy of respect. The honor you barbarians cling to is meaningless. I have crushed many who cling to honor. I still stand and rule over their ashes. Selana said at length as she examined a few sets of particularly nasty looking needles designed to slip under fingernails and toenails. The words her translator spoke were halting as evidence of his difficulty with her language though the Empress was grateful she had a translator that knew it at all. Shieh had proven his worth many times over and continued to surprise the young Empress. He appeared slightly uncomfortable with this setting the man had never sat in on a torture session apparently. Well, there was a first time for everything with how stubborn her new property was being. She left the needles for now and instead moved to the bed of hot coals. Selana became a blur of motion in the next few seconds, seizing the handle of a branding iron and pressing it hard into the wall right next to Izumis face. She wanted her to be able to see the thing up close, to feel its heat and understand the symbol upon it. It was the symbol of the Imperial Phoenix, its wings spread high as its long tail formed a circle around its form. Every slave she owned possessed the brand somewhere upon their body, the face, hands, or upper back were the common places. I am in a good mood. I give you one last chance to save yourself pain. I use this brand to mark my slaves. Tell me what I want to know and you may escape its heat. The Empress said. A way out of horrible situations was often what a prisoner wanted to hear, a thread to cling to. Selana had no intentions of letting Izumi go regardless of what she said the brand would still fall upon her flesh. However there was no need for her to know that. With this option presented to her, a possible escape, Selana suspected her tongue might very well loosen. If it did not then she had good old fashioned torture to fall back on. One way or another she would find out what Izumi knew.