[M4F] Competent heal(slut)er and her reckless warrior. [Long-term, multi-paragraph RP]

The air reeked of decay and blood. A heavy mist clung to the broken earth outside the gates of Evengrad, muffling the cries of the desperate militia battling a tide of nightmares. The clatter of steel and wood, crashing against the unnatural clawed limbs and entire bodies of the ghoulish adversaries. The town, a walled refuge of soot-stained stone and flickering lanterns, stood as a lone bastion in a desolate land scarred by the ongoing war between the two neighbouring kingdoms. But Evengrad’s allegiance didn’t matter now when the soldiers left widows and grieving mothers in their wake as well as an unattended field of rotting corpses just to the east. The remains of a battlefield were littered with bloated corpses and broken equipment, piles upon piles that had drawn a horde of ghouls and worse horrors the entire continent was made wary of.  

The Evengardian militia fought valiantly, but their numbers with men too old or too young to fight, their swords blunted against unending waves of clawed and rotting flesh each a sickly patch of pale or gray, caked in mud and filth as if this decay was their own embodiment of strength.

Then, all of them heard it.

THUD. THUD. THUD!

The ground shook as a behemoth, a hulking mass of twisted muscle and bone poking through its skin like sharp thorns, emerged from the throng. Its guttural roar echoed through the mist, shaking the timbered gates of Evengrad.

The first few unfortunate souls trying to stand up to that giant had been flung like ragdolls into the air, shields shattered and arms broken, lungs popping from the sheer force of the impact the enormous beast’s limb carried. Even the arrows fired from the walls seemed to do little to no damage, barely cutting through the tough hide of this monstrum that had grown and feasted over countless of such battlefields, benefitting from the conflict of the living.

Only for a javelin to come flying through the beast's jaw, lodging itself into its cheek to interrupt the triumphant roar. The sickening sound of tearing flesh as the blade lodged itself somewhere between its other cheek and teeth, trapping the tongue and leaving the jaw slack. It didn’t kill the beast, merely infuriated it as its blood-red gaze turned towards the source. The fog these things have used to advance at Evengrad, now turning against them.  

From the fog, a figure emerged, charging like a storm given flesh. He was a Cyvian  warrior-nomad from the frozen wilds of the north, where the skies burned green and the winds howled with the voices of the dead like these. His wild mane of raven-touched hair whipped behind him as he swung a great axe with terrifying precision. The clan’s oath is engraved upon its side in the form of ancestral sigils. Each shining in the glow of the lanterns. 

He was fearless, charging into the horde of scrawny ghoulish beasts. With each strike leaving a deep cut or directly beheading and knocking these regressed undead maneaters down. But such battle wasn’t one-sided, each ghoul managed to leave its mark, a claw or tooth leaving small to medium cuts on the burly-fit form of the Cyvian who only fought with the silent determination. Grunting and growling only when he truly felt the next strike.

Most cults and religions on the continent paint north as the hellish land, rumored that its highest peak held access to the gates the gods had once arrived through to this world. Though not all, some cults even go as far as to blame Cyvians for the horrors that plague this world. That they have insulted their gods long ago. Bringing nothing but damnation to the world.
Whether true, one thing was certain. Cyvians were people trained to fight the monstrosities that forced their clans to be on the move in the icy north.

With every cleaving blow, ghouls fell, torn apart by the sheer brute force of his strikes. But his was no mindless savagery. Between the ferocious blows, he hurled glass vials that burst into plumes of caustic fire each with a characteristic hiss, each landed, igniting packs of snarling beasts allowing the smoke and the acrid stench of alchemy to mask the coppery stench of blood.

The behemoth turned, drawn to the lone warrior cutting through its kin like a reaper through wheat. The Cyvian hurled a spike-tipped bomb in return, which embedded in the beast’s flank before detonating with a wet explosion of gore. The creature staggered but did not fall even as blood continued to seep from its new wound and the jaw. It lumbered toward the gates, each step a tremor…

The Cyvian scoffed, and with a determined look, he charged through the remaining ghouls, pushing them to the side in his onslaught just to leap towards the now “retreating” Behemoth. He knew that allowing the beast to get into this town would prolong the fight. He couldn’t allow it.

A roar erupted from his chest, more primal than human. The axe swung low travelling in a slow upward curve just to bite deep into the beast’s leg, halting its charge. But the retaliation came swift…a backhanded blow that sent the Cyvian hurtling into the dirt.
Blood seeped from his side despite his efforts his body was no more mortal than that of the same militants, it was hard to breathe, the taste of blood was at the back of his throat, the wound on the side continued to seep blood,  staining the ground as he struggled to rise just as his free hand blindly searched the bandolier slung on his chest..focusing only as he plucked an oddly shaped vial from it. He uncorked it with trembling hands and drank deeply, his body trembling as the alchemical brew coursed through his veins. The concoction dulled his pain, he just had to pray the old gods would spare him for this deed and allow him to carry on.  

The behemoth loomed over him, maw gaping to deliver the final blow. The javelin still lodged within it. As Cyvian’s strength ebbed, his rage grew. A guttural scream tore from his throat as he surged forward splattering his own blood against the beast's face. With a brutish display of tenacity he gripped the javelin with his free hand as the other despite the pain in his arm, swung the two handed axe. Its enormous head pulled down, the blade of the axe soon sunk into the beast's eye, causing the once humanoid gray-skinned giant to reel back roaring in pain as the heavily bleeding Cyvian charged after it. Looking more like a twisted abomination himself. Toppling the beast as his axe fell upon its exposed chest again and again, carving out a path to its twisted heart, silencing it with one final blow.

As it happened, the remnants of the twisted ghouls scattered, fleeing from the field…leaving the stranger as the only one standing.

The Cyvian stood triumphant for only a moment. His bloodied form swayed before he collapsed beside the corpse of the behemoth, his axe still embedded in its ruined chest, its sliced heart basked in the first rays of the breaking sunlight...

The militia, emboldened by his sacrifice, pushed back the remaining ghouls and despite some disagreements between the surviving soldiers-dragged the unconscious warrior through the gates as the first light of dawn pierced the choking mist. The Cyvian had saved Evengrad for now…

***

Look, I could've named this something shorter and more cryptic but I wanted to get the point across. I want a meaty, dark fantasy with combat, where there's a hot, strong cleric healer gal that's just as competent in smacking a bad guy with a mace in their stupid face as she is with sucking cock (or for futa enjoyers) or even  using her own to fuck her new love.

It's the usual trope of the world is beset by darkness and these two are just people living to make it through, earning coin from jobs and contracts to live another day. How she ends up being a healer to militia in Evengrad and then nurses the warrior back to health? I don't know, I just wrote the easiest set up to introduce the potential character I will play and have them meet as quickly as possible. It's a simple premise but I am the idiot that enjoys stuff like worldbuilding, long multi-paragraph replies, character plots and equal amount of cuddly romance and rough hardcore sex. 

I'm not looking for typical petite cleric or healer/mage and a big burly warrior pairing. I'm looking for all muscular woman enjoyers and roleplayers to come over. Or at least going with something where the said lady has as much experience  in fighting as she has in healing.

This is the rough idea I want to go with, happy to brainstorm with anyone interested and make changes if needed.