Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia The unnamed battle mistress raises her hand to gesture, and within a few seconds the torches are extinguished. Either she had done it more quickly and silently than Yasma has ever seen a spell cast, or the gesture was merely a signal for someone else to cut the lights. Probably the latter, but one can never be sure among the drow. And if it is the former, what might that imply about the battle mistress? There is little time to consider the implications as the lights wink out and activity in the training ground comes to a halt. Without words or further hand signs the men and women who had been at drill, exercise, or rest assemble in a single row in the middle of the open area. The battle mistress turns her back then to Yasma, directing her attention to her assembled charges. Her voice is loud enough to easily carry and echo through the chamber. She speaks as she walks, moving away from Yasma and to one side so that all present can see the new girl as the focus of attention. The bitch Yasma, she says, and lists off the various titles withheld prior, thinks herself too good for this fighting school. The assembled combatants remain silent, waiting. The battle mistress gestures, and speaks, to one of the men wearing ragged clothes Nalfein, fetch swords. The indicated man jogs off to the side and returns with a pair of training weapons. A nod from the battle mistress directs him to offer one to Yasma. Well, then? All eyes are on Yasma as she is offered a dulled blade which nonetheless could do serious harm with enough force behind it, and is surely a better fighting implement than bare hands. She is offered no direction with what to do with it, or against or with whom. But there it is, offered up at arm's length for her to take.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia It seemed that every one in the training ground had an interest in Yasma and she wasn't surprised, they should do, she stood above any of them in deed. Her eyes flicked to the lights as they went out before back to the battle mistress infront of her. The woman realed off exactly how Yasma felt as she introduced her and all the former warrior could do was snarl in contempt as every one looked her way. She knew that on a good day and especially with her own equipment she could but on a display like most of these here had more than likely never seen but she had a feeling that the whole purpose of today wasn't for her to have a chance to prove her martial prowess, she believed it was for something far more sinister. Her eyes fell on the man as he quickly trotted away to go and retieve some training swords. Once one was offered towards yasma she reached out to take a hold of the crude weapon. She could tell it was dull and no more than a toy for practice the moment she grasped the hilt. It was no surprise that she'd be brought here while light headed, weak from hunger and at her most vulnerable rather than at her full strength. To do otherwise would just be fair, a concept alien to the drow, something that she wouldn't expect. She hissed for a moment at the thought and decided that despite her condition she would do every thing she could.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia The question hangs in the air Well then? Yasma is presented with a drow-man in clothes as ragged as her own, though he does not seem the least bit tired. Behind him is the assembled group of those who had been training and now watch Yasma's every move. Off to the side side is the battle mistress, whose eyes are also trained on the new addition to her fighting school. Though the former remain still and quiet, the latter eventually becomes impatient with the inaction and speaks again. Are you just going to stand there, or will you show us that you are worth that list of now-defunct titles? The question drips with contempt. The drow-man armed with a similar training sword has by now taken a defensive posture with the sword held forward and his body turned to the side, his non-dominant arm trailing his body for balance. It is a clear mockery of surface humans' fencing style. The impatient battle mistress meanwhile has decided to draw nearer again, perhaps intending to spur on the combat with another strike of her whip. Yasma has yet a few seconds to decide what she will do. And the constant protest of her empty stomach allows her to savour each moment.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia Yasma, while confident, wasn't stupid. She knew that in her current state and with a training sword even this excuse for a battle mistress would defeat her, she wouldn't have been in the position if she didn't have some skill. It was for that reason that she took the wisest of options, she may have had some pride but self preservation far outweighed an emotion as stupid as pride. Part of her though yearned to fight the battle mistress, to test her skill against Yasma's own and she vowed to one day have that chance. She turned the sword slightly to test the weight before turnign towards the man to make her attack. She was weak, tired and in pain but even so she moved blurringly fast. She could tell how much slower she went but to many this would still be some what impressive. She looked over the man's posture and snarled at it. She was on him within a seccond with a flurry of strikes aimed both high and low. Her aim was for a few feints to draw out her attack and lead him off balance so that she could hopefully deliver a hard and ideally fight ending strike to the man's head.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia The drow-man is easily overcome, his physical strength as typical for his sex well below that of an accomplished fighting woman such as Yasma. He maintains a decent form, but he is with each motion just a bit too slow and he lacks the sturdiness and power necessary to follow through with motions of deflection and counter. As expected, each strike puts him further and further from his initial state of being balanced and on guard. This imbalance is immediately obvious to a skilled warrior, as is what finally comes a few seconds later in a moment of reprieve in Yasma's aassault, rather than first collecting himself and responding appropriately the frustrated swordsman lunges forward at his first visible opportunity at agency. Yasma easily avoids the wild strike by stepping inside her opponent's reach, leading with non-dominant shoulder, and harmlessly shoving aside the man's sword-arm. Thus made vulnerable, a single single mighty blow with the dull edge of a practice sword audibly and visibly cracks the man's skull. He falls to the ground instantly, body crumbled and limp as a rag-doll. His head collides with the ground with a wet crack, and blood pools around him. It is very possible the man is dead. His weapon clatters to the floor from his slacked grip, and as it comes to rest at Yasma's feet its edge catches on her left boot and bites softly into its sole. Had he been armed with a real weapon this whole time? That edge must be sharp, to have bitten into her leather boot. If concerned, about either the fate of the drow-man or the prospect of Yasma gaining a real weapon, the battle mistress does not show it instead, she gestures with a nod toward one of the women dressed merely in a swatch of linen over her crotch. The topless drow-woman has thick, powerful limbs and rippling muscle in excess of drow standards of feminine beauty. Scars from arrows, bites, and blades crisscross her chest and stomach. She breaks from the row of assembled fighters in a sprint, running all-out toward Yasma. As she draws near, the brawny woman allows one arm to fall slack and trail behind her while bringing the other hand forward in some kind of either magical or martial gesture. Yasma has seconds to consider her options and decide whether to pick up the real weapon or not, and how best to meet the next charging combatant.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia Yasma watched as the man hit the ground with contempt and she immediately went down to retrieve his sword. Before she'd even laid a dinger on the new weapon she could tell that unlike her own this had an edge, this was sharp, this could kill. Her eyes flicked towards the blood pooling out of the man and she sneered at his body holding no pity for the weakling. Afterall, why would she feel anything for the man? He was nothing in his own home and he was nothing to Yasma in both skill or accomplishment. Yasma turned from her fallen and potentially deceased foe and surveyed the rest of the room and the current situation. Part of the drow woman expected a flood of oncomers then or a flick of the whip to come her way in response to her dominant performance but she was mistaken. Instead there was a woman wearing no more clothing than Yasma and with scars to show either signs of battle or torture, Yasma couldn't care which. She glared at the oncomer and tried to push any feelings of hunger or lightheadedness out of her mind and met the next attacker. Her blades would flash out as she tried once again to lure the woman in to another deadly strike aimed at her midriff.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia The powerful drow woman suddenly halts her charge just outside of Yasma's reach. Dominant foot is planted firmly in place, defensive hand gesture is raised to follow the motions of Yasma's sword, and momentum swings trailing arm and non-dominant leg around and forward in some kind of double-strike with fist and foot that's too far away to strike anything but air. The hand gesture changes, as foot and fist extend to their natural reach, and instantly an invisible force batters Yasma as though she had been struck in the chest and neck. She is nearly knocked off her feet by the abrupt impact. The drow-woman's non-dominant foot stomps down hard after that kinetic blast is loosed, the previously-trailing hand contorts into a gesture similar to the one that preceded the blast, and like an uncoiling spring the brawny woman lunges forward. During all this rush and movement, Yasma had not noticed that the scarred woman's dominant hand had formed a fist which now visibly shimmers. Her attacker follows through with a languid fluidity, surging forward like an uncoiled spring to direct a single, powerful blow of her dominant fist into Yasma's midriff. The punch lands exactly where in her mind's eye Yasma had imagined slicing into her unnamed foe's stomach, and lands with such force as to eject the air from her lungs, physically lift her an inch off the ground, and knock her backward a couple of feet. It also hurts quite a lot, and there will be excessive bruising and possibly internal tissue damage but those are worries for another time. Just now, Yasma is aware that she is only being caught by these attacks because she is faint from exhaustion and hunger. It is a plainly unfair setup, as she noted prior, but even so the burly drow-woman is less of a threat than the hollow agony in her belly. She must eat soon. At least she kept hold of the sword.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia This was definitely not the first woman she'd fought that used unconventional arts nor was she close to being the most skilled at it. The first strike caught her by surprise and made her stagger backwards a moment. The next attack apprently also caught the veteran though she had time to brace herself for the impact so that it wasn't quite as devestating as it could have been. Yasma took a deep breath and snarled. This bitch was hardly as impressive as she no doubt thought that she was and Yasma knew that had she been fed and at her best then this would hardly have been a competition. While she knew that she could fight on Yasma wasn't sure of the outcome, she'd used what little energy she had and she could feel her muscles screaming at her. She simply threw her swords on the ground and frowned. This is a waste of time, do what ever you will, I'll not participate in your farce. The woman was just another future corpse to add to Yasma's list of kills.
Thread: Prison of Drowess War (Elaebryn × Lady Arachnia)

RE Prison of Drowess War Elaebryn x Lady Arachnia For a moment it seems as though Yasma may actually have won this contest, having thrown down her swords and claimed the moral high ground before an audience that watches silently and does nothing. Even her erstwhile opponent just remains in place after recovering her posture. She adopts a guarded stance, and her eyes dart between Yasma and the battle mistress. After a moment of hesitation, she throws another round of punches and kicks at her designated opponent but Yasma endures them as easily as she did those prior the only change is in the number of bruises, and the level of pain from her gnawing hunger. The burly woman even tries just throwing Yasma to the ground, but stringent refusal to fight yields only a throw and recovery not an amusing display of combat. Eventually the battle mistress intervenes. You will fight, she shouts as oiled whip bites into the flesh of Yasma's chest near the shoulder. You will fight, she shouts again as a second lash crosses the first and splatters blood. Or I will strip your skin from your bones! The battle mistress has finally found emotion to her voice, and the third whip-strike in less than six seconds cuts deep from collar to shoulder tearing off a sizable chunk of flesh where it crosses the first stroke a second time. Cruelty and fury are evident in her tone and in her bearing as she advances, and she seems intent on continuing the assault unless or until Yasma moves of her own volition. The brawny drow woman meanwhile has taken this moment to slowly back away from the situation to avoid being within range of an errant lash.
Thread: A Search For BMR's Best

RE Gaming The System - A Unique Request Bumps
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Thread: PM problems

So, this is the second time I have had this experience with the PM system. I am reading through a thread or another PM and I see that I have received an unread message, I decide to finish what I am doing before I go to check it and after a few moments it disappears. After a random time, the PM returns to my inbox as unread, with the timestamp for when I got the initial notification that disappeared. I don't know what causes it, but it is a bit weird.
Thread: PM problems

I can't say for certain because this is not my area of expertise but I do know that its possible for members to delete an unread message from someone elses inbox.
Thread: Chasing Buffalo (Praxis x Dane Stalling)

Brentwood, California, October 2004 I knew my father, but he did not know me. That is not to say that he never heard my name, but he was too big to have bastard sons. He was too big not to have bastard sons. More than once, I wished he had banged one of the Riverbank Dutch girls in '73. My name would have been Van Diepen or Dejong instead of Espinoza. You bang white girls, he said once. Not to me. It was on a piece of Super 8 film I found in his brother's closet. On the film he sat by a barbecue in the back yard of a pink house drinking tequila and smoking a joint. You bang white girls, screw black girls, tumble Italians, ride Asians, but the Chicanas, he said, haces el amor a las Chicanas. And love may have had something to do with it, although by my mother's account, he did not love her. He loved her skin though, he loved all brown skin, so I cannot say Oscar Acosta loved me, but he loved the idea of me. Rudolfo Espinoza stood behind the leaning podium in Diesel reading the first pages of his memoir about his father in a flat voice. Madison, his agent, said that readers wanted to insert their own emotion, and that he needed to read in a neutral way so they could co-create the emotional environment. He thought it was bullshit though. He always itched to raise his voice, make the points ring as far as his words could reach. He thought the readings, the steak lunches with the publishing dicks, the endless signing of books he was sure people would never read was all just publicity theater. Who cares if they read it, Madison had said once in his car, after three glasses of white at a brunch, If you're signing it, they've already paid. I may as well be signing blocks of wood with a dust cover, he said. She was taking off her stilettos. Oh baby, she said, If you could figure out how to sell blocks of wood in dust covers, you'd save the entire publishing industry. Overhead would drop to almost zero. The internet's going to fuck us all over and I'll have to start turning tricks again. She hadn't ever turned tricks. He knew those girls in Stockton, on the south side of Modesto. Agribusiness was killing the pickers up there and people have to eat. Meredith probably required a contract before coitus. He thought the contract would be more fun than the coitus. This isn't about selling copies. It's about getting Oscar's ideas out there again. It's about changing the sociopolitical scene. You're adorable, she had said, and fell asleep against the car window. Today though, something was different. This wasn't the typical WASP shopper in capris and hoop earrings. Somebody must have said something over at UCLA. These were mostly Latinos, but with Cesar Chavez instead of Che on their t-shirts, and they listened intently. He realized that this was the first time he had ever met his intended audience face to face. These were the ears he really wanted to reach. He let his voice rise and their eyes blazed. Last edited by a moderator Jun 16, 2022
Thread: The Crossover Christmas Special (TheCorsair, Xanaphia, Madam Mim)

Jenny shrugged when John asked whether she wanted to go hunt some devils. Da would be disappointed if I didn't, honestly, she said with a grin. Shall we, then? But Quentin had some reservations. An older man interrupted, pointing out that he was a knight and that it was his duty to confront evil. Jenny nodded along. She liked this man! But John put in as well and she grabbed his hand about the same time another man laid a hand on his shoulder. I think perhaps this isn't the time to talk, love, she said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. Danke schon, Erik said with a smile, shaking the Professor's hand then gingerly hugging Anne Marie. She was still intimidating, but there was something about having another person's nipple in your mouth which made that person slightly less scary. Gideon is finally asleep and Sam is recovering well. Fantastic, Anne Marie said with a smile, taking Algie's arm under the guise of old-fashioned propriety as Erik led the way to the parlor. And this is a beautiful home, Erik. I take it this is to be your home until the family manor passes to you? Ja, he answered, but as a heads-up, there are-- My god, Algernon murmured, and Anne Marie also pulled up short. There's two of them. --in New Orleans? Jackie demanded. Ain't nothin' there but swamps and gators. No fuckin' thank you. Samantha? Anne Marie asked cautiously. Have...have you a twin you've forgotten to tell us about? That was the only explanation she could think of. Jackie looked over her shoulder at the fancy lady and shrugged. We're as confused as you are, lady, she informed her. Mostly we're just goin' with it.
Thread: The Crossover Christmas Special (TheCorsair, Xanaphia, Madam Mim)

Kaydia could only laugh as Quentins complaint was dismissed by newfound allies. Lets be perfectly honest, we werent getting anywhere in that last wild porg chase. This can be that vacation youve owed me for well, for too long now. So where is the rest of your crew? Aurelia asked, looking around the ship, Ive never seen a galleon like this before, but I still imagine you need a crew of at least a dozen or so to man it. Kaydia shook her head, Its just us. Doesnt seem to follow any laws of physics that Ive studied. Wary eyes peered around, I may just have to accept that he is cursed. Doesnt seem like much of a curse, Aurelia muttered, wonder on her expression. The town of Monsford prepared for the winter solstice, building a massive pyre that was to burn from sundown until sun rise. A celebration of strength and resilience, a reminder that no night is endless, for the sun always rises. To Auriannas eye, it resembled the eve before the battle of Monsford, when they proved themselves too stubborn to lay down and die. Each time she tried to help, someone shooed her off, on account of her swollen belly. Protests, that, after having handled a pair of demons, a pile of logs was little challenge fell on deaf ears. So she found a task she could help with, one that no one was reprimanding her for, in bringing drinks to the those laboring to finish the pyre. Looks like you all could use a break. Matthias rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead before accepting. The chill in the air nipped and bit, but lugging hundreds of pounds worth of lumber could still break a sweat. Thanks. How are you holding up? Mostly fine, Aurianna admitted, passing around more drinks to the others nearby, Better if everyone would stop coddling me as though I were an invalid. Matthias put his hand on her shoulder. We got this. Youre already carrying enough. Yeah, and Id trade you in an instant if I could, she grumbled, before wincing. Your child keeps kicking me in the ribs. Still, it gave her an idea, and her steel arm darted out to grab his wrist, and placed it on her abdomen. Even under the layers she wore, he could feel the kicking of the child within her. His golden eyes glittered in amazement, echoed by the wordless sound that escaped his lips. YeahI think Ill stick to carrying wood, Matthias answered in a laugh, pulling his wife closer to kiss her on the forehead. Aurelia closed her spyglass in a fit of shock, shaking her head. Holy Hells, how did we reach the northlands so quickly? Kaydia shrugged, The ship traveled through space. It operates on a set of rules I have to figure out. Man, I oughtta get myself cursed like this.