Ponderer

Tales spread around slowly in a world without any means of conversation other than pigeon and word of mouth, but the dealings of a dark armored figure, more beast than man, were a tale that seemed to be on the lips of every man, woman, and babe. The stories of its brutality in battle, the ruthless way he cut down anyone who stood in his way, were told as night tales by old nannies to keep a troublesome child in bed. Women retold the sheer size of his armor with a strange fascination that nearly bordered on the sexual. And the men spoke about the strength of his strikes with a mix of envy and horror due to the inhuman ways the bodies were left by the end of the battle, which was usually a slaughter. 
 
The thing that made the stories all the more terrifying? It was all true. All committed by a beast that had forgotten what it meant to be human. 
 
Travaian had long forgotten his last name; most explained it away by saying he was simply a demon born of an evil cloud, a product of the fantasy realm's innate evil. For all of his inhuman qualities, he was still a man. He was just a specimen that had never been seen and would never be seen again because of his impossible physical qualities. 
 
The terrifying thing about the black knight was his seemingly unstable appearance. On some days, his eyes would be the reddest of red that seemed to contain all of the rage and hatred of Lucifer himself. Still, on other days, he would appear like a foreboding, solemn, and frightening specter with eyes that penetrated the very souls of anyone who dared look. 
His changing figure was evidence of inhuman powers that he had been blessed with, or cursed with, depending on how one looked at him. Whatever he needed such vast power for was a mystery to everyone—it was as if his entire purpose was to be an antithesis to the idea of good, moral, and happy beings. Everywhere he walked, dread replaced what was once there. Factors that would be applied due to his ruthlessness and the chaos that seemed always to follow him. 
His name, the Vast, wasn't given due to wealth, prowess, or anything that could be considered normal. Instead, it was merely a statement on how much suffering his mere presence caused the poor, innocent, and weak citizens and criminals of the fantasy realm. 
Nothing opposed him, but there was nothing for him as well. So, Tavarian is searching for something that will fill the emptiness in his soul. All the gold in the world would not satisfy him, but he would pursue it all the same because that would give him something to do. The battles he was in were never quite battles, more than they were massacres, but perhaps there is someone or something out there that could fight, tame, or subdue the demonic black knight. 
Who opposes him? 
 
 

“Why are you looking at me like that? First time seeing a dick?” 
Your girlfriend wishes she looked this good.”
“You can look at my face and pretend you’re fucking a chick if you want. Just pretend my dick isn’t flopping on your pelvis.” 
 
“I will make you get a boner whether you like it or not.”
 
——————
 
Jesse is a notorious brat who has a certain charm about him that makes him almost seem untouchable, even during the moments when he has nowhere left to turn. 
It was a sickening high that made him dress in yoga pants or skirts around men who seemed as straight as could be. It pleased him to feel their eyes feast on him or dare a glance. 
The ultimate goal for him, though, was to finally make their walls fall and have them drooling over his ass in a bedroom before they savagely pounded him into next year. It was a hate fuck beyond any hate fuck; by the time they would fill him up with their seed, they would already be bolting out of the hotel while Jesse languished in their collective sweat and cum. 
It looked like nothing more than a self-destructive addiction to the naked eye, but the wallets lining his pockets would say otherwise. If all he needed to acquire their money was to give a little ass, then Jesse would do so without any worries. 

Colby is just a way too cheerful farm boy who doesn’t seem to have any other aspirations besides helping around his little patch of land, wrestling cattle, and lying down in some hay bales every once in a while if there is nothing to be done. 
He has all the attributes of a good, stable boy. Muscular arms, a tall build, and a fearless attitude that doesn’t even allow him to think twice before tackling a one thousand pound bull. 
While fierce against aggressive bulls and critters, he is as gentle as can be with any person, be it male or female. Though a far too spunky city gal may annoy him enough to reveal his deep-seated misogyny and desire to dominate  :—)