Round 1

[Narrator | Narrator]
The Narrator lets the room settle and lays out the immediate proposition in concrete terms, making clear that the cast must answer what is being asked of them before anything can move forward.

[Jeane | Sorcerer]
I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs deliberately slow so the leather of my pants catches the light just right—subtle, but unmistakable if anyone's paying attention. I let the proposition hang for a moment, studying each face around this makeshift table with eyes that have seen more depravity than Sunday service. My wings shift beneath their glamour, an itch for open sky and wider hunting grounds.

[Silra | Rogue]
I lean back, hands folded, studying the proposal like a contract with fine print I can smell from here. Corrupt women? Build a harem? In a church? The irony is thick enough to choke on, but I've danced to stranger tunes for less payoff. My eyes flick to Jeane—always the litmus test. But what's the real game here? You want us to fuck and recruit, fine. But who's pulling our strings? And more importantly, how do we keep the cops out of this sin parade? I'm in if it's smart and profitable, but I need to know which ass is on a platter before I sign up.

[Halie | Cleric]
I lean forward, my exhaustion barely held at bay by the gravity of what we're being asked to undertake. The irony that this church—once a place of sanctuary and chastity—should now become a stage for our most carnal endeavors is not lost on me. But the memory of the pleasure we found last night, the release from the pain of this world, keeps my resolve sharp despite my weariness. We are all here because we have tasted something beyond the mundane, and to turn away now would be to deny that truth.

[Hera | Civilian]
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, arms crossed tightly over my chest as I listen to the proposition laid out before us. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the faces of my companions—some familiar, others less so. A mix of excitement and unease churns in my gut.

[Abby | Civilian]
I sit quietly at the edge of the circle formed by these women, my hands clasped tightly together in my lap. The air feels thick with unspoken things, heavy with the scent of old wood polish and something else—something sharp and metallic that makes my skin prickle. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the high ceilings and the dust motes dancing in the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. A church? For this? The thought sends a thrill down my spine even as a part of me recoils at the sheer audacity of it all. This is... more than I was expecting when we first started meeting like this. It's not just about pleasure anymore; it feels like something bigger now, something dangerous. But isn't that what drew me in the first place? The promise of danger, of being someone else, someone braver and freer? I can feel my heart beating faster as I listen to the others discuss the plan, their voices a low murmur against the sudden ringing in my ears.*