The Dark Garden
Goblin/ Lavender Beds/ Ward 2/ Plot 58
Saturdays 9pm- 1am EST
Baldryck Rhiadra
His amorous versatility knows no bounds and only few limits. Your pleasure is truly his.
Hooks
Loves music and how it affects ones life
Enjoys talking to shy people and coaxing them out of their shells
Ask direct questions about what he can provide for you
Text
| Preferences | Personality |
|---|---|
| RP Length Adaptable | Quietly observant |
| Pan | Switch/Dom leaning |
Text
Rates
All RP
1 Mil gil per hour
4 Mil gil buyout for the night
The Awakening
One frost‑bitten evening in far‑off Garlemald, her sanity snapped like brittle pine. Steel sang; strangers fell; Ingrid, once a star, collapsed amid crimson snow.
It was there that Baldryck Rhiadra, taciturn lover of melody and master of witty pun, stood above her. Seeing the carnage she had wrought and the madness that yet glittered in her eyes, he braced his heart and struck the fatal blow. When word reached Gridania, Manservant greeted the confession with a solemn nod and, in quiet mercy, forgave Baldryck, “for woes are weeds, and thou hast pulled the worst,” his silence seemed to say. Henceforth Baldryck assumed the mantle of Head Courtesan, coaxing shy souls from their shells with gentle song and clever charm.
Yet death, like spilled ink, births unexpected shapes. In the very heartbeat of Ingrid’s demise, a figure manifested upon the corpse: a woman wrought of shadow‑ink: Raine. She donned a coat marked Euphemia, trudged to Camp Broken Glass, and pieced together tales that named Ingrid her foe. Guided by a distant tug, she arrived at the Garden, whispering lies of simple employment. Manservant, eyes glimmering with unspoken lore, perceived her ruse but welcomed her nonetheless; he adored the theater of unfolding stories.