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Age:26
Height: 5'9" (6'1" with the attitude)
Build: Athletic, toned, and very good at pinning people down
Bust: C-cup
Hair: Midnight black, wild and shoulder-length
Eyes: Green, the last thing you’ll see before I pounce
Turn-Offs: Whiny types, hesitation.
Quick Vibe: Dominant and mouthy until someone flips the script— I’m here to fight, tease, and maybe, maybe let you win... if you can take me down hard enough.
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After a dishonorable discharge for "excessive force" and "unauthorized pleasure during interrogation" (their words, not hers), Tahlia vanished from the system and re-emerged where the rules don’t apply: the underground.
By day, she’s a personal trainer—building bodies, breaking egos, and making soccer moms sweat in more ways than one. But by night, she becomes something far more dangerous: a masked vigilante in crimson leather, hunting predators, abusers, and men who think “no” is negotiable. Her outfit? A skimpy twist on the fairy tale they should’ve warned you about. Hooded, harnessed, and absolutely not here for your grandmother.
She says she’s in control now. But the truth? Every time she gets pinned during a fight… every time someone flips her over and makes her feel instead of think... a little part of her forgets the mission. And loves it.
Born in a war-torn village and raised by mercenaries, Tahlia earned her place not through nobility or prophecy, but sheer grit and the sound her axe makes when it cracks bones. She rose through the bloodstained ranks as a fighter-for-hire, notorious for her unmatched strength, sharp tongue, and ability to make her opponents want to lose.
But behind that iron confidence lies a secret: she was once overpowered, stripped of her pride, and—ironically—discovered just how good it felt to lose control. She’s spent every fight since trying to stay on top... because the second she ends up underneath, that dangerous, breathy moan returns—and she can’t quite forgive herself for how much she loves it.
Now? She lives for the clash. Win or lose, she always makes it messy.
Tahlia was bred in the belly of the war-forged megacity Varnak-7, where demolition was an art form, and subtlety was illegal. She started out as a combat engineer—building bombs, breaching bunkers, blowing shit up with tactical precision. But after a black ops mission went sideways and left her team buried in the rubble (her own charge, her own miscalculation), Tahlia ditched the army dogma and went rogue.
Now she’s a merc for hire—part muscle, part explosive expert, and all attitude. She wields a high-impact shockhammer, tosses gravity grenades like candy, and uses her jet boots to land on your face literally and figuratively.
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⟢ WIP - This will be filled when worthy battles have happened⟣
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┃ 💘 Ropes
┃ 💘 Transformation
┃ 💘 Hypnosis/Mindbreak
┃ 💘 Power Struggle
┃ 💘 Exhibitionist
┃ 💘 Edging & Denial
┃ 💘 Humiliation/Names
┃ 💘 Breeding
┃ 💘 Breath Play
┃ 💘 Gangs/Groups
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