Twisted Light

Apologies! Your web browser lacks required capabilities. Please consider upgrading it or switching to a more modern web browser.

Initializing. Please wait…

<center style="padding:1em">CHAPTER I The Ogress</center> It's been a day and a half since you saw another soul. Your polished breastplate and mail weighs more heavily on your slender shoulders with every step. Every so often, you find yourself hefting the halberd you carry -- nearly as long as you are tall, and heavy on one end with lethal steel -- from shoulder to shoulder, trying and failing to keep the ache of its weight from setting in to your bones. At least the weather's holding out. This close to the coast, there's nothing but seafoam sky and woolen clouds above you, and endless, rolling plains of grass stretching out in every directions. The old dirt road between the Grand Duchy's capital and your destination, the port town of Cailensberg, is the only sign of civilization for miles around. Nothing to tell you these fertile plains are anything but untouched wilderlands, unspoiled by the hands of sphinx-born like you. Your perky feline ears twitch through the cuts atop your helm, an instinctual show of mirth. You've finally gotten everything you ever wanted: a mission, an excuse to leave the crowded confines of your home city behind... and all you can think of now is how barren and lonely the countryside really is. Though the wear of half a week on the road is starting to set in, your spirits remain high. The hand not holding your halberd sometimes drifts to the silver harp-shaped medallion hanging around your neck, nestling between the slight rises of your chestplate. A symbol of hope, of divine guidance, and of [[your sacred duty]] handed down by the goddess herself.

You are a new Herald of Kaelirra, a warrior-servant of the realm's patron goddess. Kaelirra is a spirit of redemption and passion, and she has embraced your homeland in this dark and godless age. Like many young women, faced with dim prospects of labor or marriage, you jumped at the chance to serve the goddess when she revealed herself in your city's hour of need. Now, almost a year later, you are finally worthy in her eyes to be her herald, to go out into the world and make manifest Kaelirra's will. You just never imagined it would involve this much walking... Your quiet reverie is interrupted by a sudden crash that echoes across the plains. A bestial roar carries over the nearby hillock, followed quickly by a ring of steel that makes your tail go stock straight beneath your cape. Out of instinct, you grab your halberd in both hands, searching for the source. It finds you before you've had a chance to think. A cry of pain comes from the same direction as the rest of the clangorous noise, and a huge black shape takes to the air. It sails across the sky, boneless and indistinct, a dark blur that arcs over the hilltop and slams into the dirt not twenty paces from you. A moment passes before you recognize the shape as that of a man, cloaked and hooded and badly hurt. He groans, rolling onto his side and spitting up blood. [[A huge figure follows]] him over the hills, so massive that every footfall shakes the earth.

Your eyes go wide, knuckles whitening around the haft of your weapon as the figure steps into view. Or woman, you should say, though she's unlike any you've ever seen before. She's no cat-girl, not by a country mile! The figure that lumbers towards you is almost half again your own height, her leathery green-brown skin wrapped in ragged hides that leave her arms and thighs bare, rippling with tense muscle, and heft up a pair of enormous breasts, each easily larger than your head. A mane of wild black hair whips behind her, dark curls framing a face bearing bestial tusks and dark red eyes. Her black lips are twisted into a feral, hungry grin, and one of her great paws is wrapped around a club as thick as tree trunk. An ogre! You gulp back your fear, looking between the ferine woman and the man on the ground between you, bloodied and dazed. "Move aside, kitty-cat," the ogress growls. "He is my prey." Part of being a Herald is your sworn oath to defend the weak. Whatever this ogre has planned for the injured man, it can't be good. [[Step forward and shield the man]] with your own body, guarding him from harm. Of course, as a Herald of Kaelirra, you're also able to [[call down divine wrath]] on the ogre's head. Maybe that will dissuade her. Then again, you've been carrying this gleaming halberd for a reason. [[Charge the brute!]]

<<set $metKorga to "False">>Step aside? Not likely. You plant your feet in the ground and clutch your holy symbol, thrusting it forward towards the towering creature. The silver harp acts like a lightning rod of faith, drawing your focused willpower through it until it glows with radiance. "Lady of Redemption, hear my prayer. Show this creature that your servants will not be cowed!" For a split second, your chest burns like never before. The symbol in your hand erupts in pale flames, growing so bright that the ogress shields her eyes, stumbling back. But not you. The searing heat in your breast grows, channeling itself into your holy symbol until, with a striek of effort, you slam the silver talisman into the earth. When your symbol connects with the earth, the heavens erupt. A lance of searing light strikes down from on high like a lightning bolt, striking the ogress square on the head. She screams and stumbles back, flailing her arms in pain. While she's distracted, you take up your halberd and charge, using the blunt end to jab at her bare gut and legs, driving her back until her stumbling turns into a full on retreat. "Get out of here!" you shout after her, planting your weapon in the ground when you reach the hilltop. The ogre doesn't so much as look back at you, but beats feet back across the plains towards the distant eastern mountains. Long way from home, her. When you're sure enough that the brute doesn't intend to come back, you let out a heavy breath you'd been holding and [[turn your attentions towards her would-be prey]].

"You will not have him!" you shout, stepping forward with all the courage you can muster and planting your feet between her and the wounded man. "Not while I stand!" The ogress takes one lumbering step forward, hefting her club up onto her shoulder. "Well, well..." she smirks, running her tongue along a tusk. "Kitten has spine! Maybe bigger balls than little boy, here." She puts a hand on her hip, looking you up and down. Her smile only grows, and for a moment, you can't help but size her up in turn. Huge and muscular she may be, but those heavy hides hide a distinctly feminine side: cask-sized breasts, all but spilling out around her vest, and broad hips over toned thighs. She's as much built for pounding beds as heads, you think, and the way she's looking at you, the feeling seems mututal. You catch yourself before your breath goes heavy, and try and fight back the flush of your cheeks. It's not the first time someone's looked at you this way, not by a long shot, but... something about this huge beast of a woman gets to you in a way that's totally unfamiliar. "Korga likes bravery," the ogress murmurs, taking another step forward. She's so close now, you can see the beads of sweat on her powerful muscles, glistening in the sunlight, and the slight jiggle of her breasts with every breath. Korga... her name, you guess? "Only wanted a little fun, but silly boy had to fight. But kitten... kitten looks like she can handle herself. Could stand being under a real woman." It seems like she's offering you a choice: [[offer yourself up to Korga]] and so save the wounded man from her hip-crushing wrath. Or... you could fight. She's dangerously close now, but you might be able to [[call down divine wrath]] before she can react. Then again, you still have your halberd. [[Charge the brute!]]

<<set $metKorga to "True">><<set $foughtKorga to "True">>Whatever the ogress intends for the wounded man at your feet, you will not allow it while you still draw breath. You grip your halberd in both hands, leveling the spearpoint at the giant and charging forward. "Brave kitty," the ogress smirks. Her paces picks up into a charge, swinging her club up over her had and bellowing a gutteral warcry that resounds across the plains. You meet just past the man that would be her prey, your halberd slicing upwards to catch an overhead swing on its axeblade, turning the bone-crushing blow aside. Your momentum carries you forward under her missed strike, close enough to slam you shoulder into her thigh and bring the butt of your halberd down on her foot. The ogress cries out in pain, stumbling, but her club swings back around to block the blade of your weapon before you can take advantage of your opening. This time, though, the axe blade buries into the heartwood of her club. You give it a yank, trying to pull it free, but the blade won't budge! A moment of panic hits you, making you freeze just long enough for the ogress to wrench her club away, yanking your weapon from your hands. You stumble back, reaching for the knife on your belt, but too late. The ogress flings her club to the side and lunges, grabbing you your head, completely enveloping you in one of her huge, strong paws. Her grip lasts just long enough to throw you face-first into the grassy dirt, following by a tremendous pressure grinding into your back. Though you can't twist around to see, you know the ogress has her knee on you, pinning you down. One hand pushes your head into the dirt, and the other grabs the back of your armor, thumbing the buckles holding your breastplate to your mail. "Brave kitty," she murmurs, letting the pressure off your head just enough for you to come up for air with a gasp. "Brave, but dumb. Little thing cannot defeat Korga with puny stick." What's a Korga? Her name, maybe? You'd ask, if it wasn't for the meaty hand threatening to crush your skull at any moment. "Dumb kitty still brave, though. I like that in a mate. Better than weak ranger," the ogress says, leaning so close that you can feel her hot breath on your ears. Her voice has turned husky, and you can feel two large, heavy swells pressing against your back as she leans ever closer. Your oath as a Herald does command you to [[do anything to protect the weak...]]

Turning back to the wounded man, you jog down the hillside and take a knee beside him. He's wrapped in a half-shredded green cloak, but even covered and curled up, you can tell immediately that he's a big fella -- more than seven feet tall, if you had to guess, but lean for his size. Almost wiry. He groans at your touch, clutching at his ribs; cracked or broken from the punting blow the ogress gave him. You tell him to hold still, that you're here to help, and start pulling at his cloak to get it out of the way. The hooded garment pulls away easily enough, but what's underneath makes your breath catch. He's no catfolk, that's for sure: a long head of flame-red hair tumbles free, shrouding tall ears that look more like a lizard's than a sphinx-born's, and tanned cheeks freckled with dark red scales. "A salamander?" you catch yourself saying, eyes wandering across him. Forcing yourself to concentrate, you pull off one of your gauntlets and clutch your holy symbol in the other. Between mutterances of prayer, you hope that healing magic works as well on someone like him as it does a catfolk.... You've never so much as seen a salamander before, only heard rangers and plainsmen mention them. Reclusive folk from deep into the craggy mountains; like the ogre, he's far from home. The familiar cold burn of magic rises in your chest, focuses through the symbol, and the salamander man gasps and squirms under your steady hand. "Dammit, that hurts!" he hisses. You have just enough warning to duck out of the way as a red-scaled tail almost as tall as he is swipes wildly. Dry heat and the smell of sulfur follows it, driving you back. Its owner rolls over and staggers to his knees. he grimaces, clutching his ribs in pain. "I'm trying to help you," you say, following him. "That was-" "Healing magic, I know," the salamander grunts. Unsteadily, he rises to his feet -- scaled and clawed appendages that stick out from tattered leather breeches, matching a hunting vest that clings to his chest. His arms, too, you see are wreathed in auburn scales, just pliant enough to show off toned muscle beneath. "I'm not stupid, and... and thanks to you, I'm not getting dragged off to be that oversized goblin's personal fuckstick. So -- ow! -- thanks, I guess." [[Your cheeks flush at his bluntness]], and your murmur out something like, "You're welcome."

"Okay," you moan, wriggling futilely in the ogress's iron grip. "Okay! Take me instead of him." Though you can't see, you can only imagine the ogress smiling. "Ahhh, Korga like this one," her greathy voice whispers in your ear, so soft that for a moment you can almost forget it belongs to a woman almost twice your size. The hand pressing down on your back pulls ever so slightly, and you feel the buckles on your armor coming undone, one after the other. A whimper escapes your lips as Korga shifts, straddling you on her knees and grabbing your mail shirt under the arms. One good tug and it comes up and off, leaving you only your woolen tunic to preserve your modest when she rolls you onto your back. "Oh? Little kitty not so little," the ogress says, a playful grin spreading around her tusks as she takes you in. "Should wear armor like Korga. Show off more." Never taking her eyes off you, the giant reaches a hand back and yanks her leather harness free. The heavy hides girding her breasts falls free, revealing the two mammoth swells in all their glory. Huge, heavy, swaying with every breath. Her nipples are broad and black, forming stiff peaks at the tip of each cask-sized mound. "Kitten's turn," she smirks, planting a hand on either side of your head and leaning in, letting the two pendulous weights on her chest brush across your face. "Let Korga see..." She doesn't move for a moment, letting it sink in that she'll not just let you lie back and accept your fate. You'll be an active participant in the ogress's pleasure. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you cross your arms under your shift and pull it up, baring your own breasts to the fuck-hungry titan. Korga licks her lips, running a single thick digit across your chest, her coarse flesh rubbing at your nipples and drawing an unbidden gasp of pleasure from your lips. Your whole chest tingles, making your breath come in ragged gasps. "Pretty," the ogress murmurs, pinching a breast between thumb and forefinger, rolling your entire boob around in her hand. Even if you weren't pinned between the giant woman's thighs, the trembling bouts of pleasure she's locked you in leave you all but insensate, roiling in the unfamiliar sensation. A creature so large shouldn't be able to be so gentle, to make you feel so good... and yet you can feel wet heat building between your own legs, instinctively answering Korga's groping hands. A few moments later and you're so out of it, moaning and arching your back between Korga's legs that you don't notice her unlacing the sash of pelts around her waist, tossing them aside as shifting her knees up to rest firmly under the pits of your arms. One word, though, snaps you back to the reality of your situation: one commanding, immutable directive: "[[Lick]]."

Your eyes snap open, staring down a black-lipped tunnel between the ogress's muscular thighs. The dark flesh around it is bare, save for a narrow strip of black curls that draw your eyes irresistably down into Korga's sex. Wet heat radiates from it, and a clench of her muscles shows you how tight that hole can squeeze... and then how easily it pulls apart, opened by two fingers and a thumb that brushes the thumb-sized mound of clit at the wanton hole's peak. "Here," Korga commands, tapping her pleasure bud. Your eyes lock on it, and some primal part of your mind leaves your mouth agape, all but drooling. Her rosebud is almost as big as a catfolk's cock, and stares straight at you, so close that you can, in fact, lean up and lick it. The ogress's breath catches in her throat, and her hands tense around your bare breasts. "Ah! Coarse... like ogre," she chuckles, clearly pleased. "Good kitten. More." Korga pinches one of your tits again, one last shock of pleasure to get your moving before her hands withdraw. Shivering, you crane your neck into the ogress's sweltering sex and run your tongue from base to crown, flicking across her black lips before latching onto the tender peak. Your mouth closes around it easily, drawing Korga's clit into your mouth just like the prick it feels like. Once mounted, your tongue goes to work lavishing the underside of her bulb. You bob your head up and down its great length, taking it deep enough for your lips to press against the black-velvet folds of her sex and then back again until your tongue caresses the very tip. Korga moans overtop you, at first stroking your golden hair, then reaching up to grab and grope on of her own weighty breasts. Her broad hips rock slowly against your face, making sure your lips are never long parted from the very base of her clitty. Soon, the heavy breaths you hear from on high turn into growling moans. Wet excitement brushes your cheeks, making you gasp. The musky, feminine scent smears across your face and trickles down, pooling on your chest. Without even thinking, your now-freed hands reach up and grab the titan's hips, holding on for dear life as she rides your face harder and faster, matching her lustful moans to powerful bucks of her hips. You barely notice [[her hands grabbing at your pants]].

With a mouthful of ogre-clit, there's not much protesting you can do other than kicking your legs haplessly while Korga yanks your pants and underthings down. Then again, you're not sure you want to once a pair of her thick fingers trace up your thighs and find your pussylips. Each one feels as thick as a catfolk's prick, and the pair of them together make your back arch and force a cry of pleasure out around the ogress's clit. "Be glad Korga isn't a male," your titanic domme chuckles, "or else your belly would be bulging... now and after." She laughs, letting the mirthful sound transform into a lewd moan as you suck her harder. The two fingers spearing your quim dig in slowly, curling inside you and stretching every inch of tender walls around their coarse flesh. She isn't quite to the second knuckle before you're panting and gasping. Your pussy squeezes uncontrollably, muscles firing wildly in response to the thickest penetration you've ever imagined. Korga just chuckles and thrusts her digits in and out, again and again. Your fingers dig into her rough hide, little more than a passenger to the ogress's domination at this point. Her cunt grinds against your face, and her fingers plow your once-tight cunt, leaving you a fem-cum covered mess in mere minutes. The ogress drenches you in her musky nectar, her orgasm coming on the heels of a deafening roar of ecstasy. Korga throws her head back, slamming her mighty hips down on you again and again, filling your mouth with clit and quim with cock-thick fingers. Your body trembles uncontrollably, unable to bear the deep thrusts and overwhelming feminine aroma without joining her. Your cunt erupts in waves of hot squirts, bathing her digits and your thighs in girl-cum; Korga never stops thrusting through either orgasm, pounding you just that much harder when she feels you cumming. When your climax hits its peak, you finally pop off her thick clit, crying out as your body squeezes as hard as it can around her fingers, utterly incapable of stopping the ogre's plowing thrusts. [[You collapse on your back, exhausted]] from the ogress's amazonian mating.

"Good kitten!" she laughs heartily, still panting herself. Korga lets you flop onto your back, running a wet hand through your hair and mussing it like she might a real cat's. "Kitten's lucky Korga isn't looking for a true mate... just fun, for now." The thought of being thrown over the towering ogre's shoulders, hauled off to some dank lair to be used like this again and again... it sends a shiver down your spine. And not entirely a bad one. The ogress smirks at your response, rising confidently to her feet and grabbing her discarded hides. She merely crumples them under an arm, finding her club with the other<<if $foughtKorga is "True">> print " and wrenching your halberd free. Your own weapon collapses beside you, adding onto the pile of chain and sweat-stained cloth that makes up your soiled uniform<<endif>>. Korga leans down and plants a quick, wet kiss on your cheek, smirking at your instinctual blush... and the quiver of your sex. "Is good kitten enjoyed, too! Maybe meet again some time." She stomps away after that, laughing to herself and shamelessly swaying her bare hips and ass back at you as she goes. Slowly, you struggle to sit upright and reach for your clothes. It takes you a long while to get dressed, covered in Korga's fem-cum as you are, though thankfully your cloak serves as a servicable towl. Still, you end up staggering after your session with the ogress, wobbling from foot to foot as you go over to check on the man that would otherwise have been that feral amazon's mate. [[You go to check on the wounded man]]...

You make sure that you're decent, at least, pulling your undershirt and pants back on before going over. The man's right where the ogress's punting blow left him, curled up on the grass and clutching at his ribs. Though obviously in pain, he's forced himself up on an elbow, eyeing you. The hood of his tattered cloak has fallen aside, revealing a face that keeps the same rough form as yours, but the details are all different: frilled, pointed ears flank his face, and his tanned cheeks are freckled with dark red scales. A mane of long, unkempt red hair spills down around his shoulders, half-shrouding his orange eyes. "You're a salamander," you catch yourself saying, half to yourself. Though you've never seen one before yourself, you've heard tales about these reclusive mountain-folk from the hunters back home. Like the ogress, he's far from home. He nods and winces, sucking in a sharp breath. "That's right. And you're... you're an angel, under all that armor. That oversized goblin would have had pinned under her for days given half a chance. But, uh, whew... you sure seemed to sate her." You cheeks flush at his bluntness, but the salamander laughs. "Sorry, I don't mean... look, thank you." Laughter seems to hurt him even more. The salamander grunts and all but falls backwards, breathing hard. The Herald part of you resurfaces in an instant: Korga's blow probably broke a couple of his ribs, the way he went flying. You grab the holy symbol hanging from your neck and press a hand to his chest. "Hold still. I can help you." You utter a short prayer, focusing your will through the symbol and into the man's dark flesh. The familiar cold burn of magic rises in your chest, focuses through the symbol, and the salamander man gasps and squirms under your steady hand. "Dammit, that hurts!" he hisses. You have just enough warning to duck out of the way as a red-scaled tail almost as tall as he is flails wildly. Dry heat and the smell of sulfur follows it, driving you back. You wave your hand in front of your face. "Take it easy. It's just-" "Healing magic, I know. Eh, that really does feel better. Keep this up, and you'll be tired of me saying 'thanks.'" Unsteadily, he rises to his feet -- scaled and clawed appendages that stick out from tattered leather breeches, matching a hunting vest that clings to his chest. His arms, too, you see are wreathed in auburn scales, just pliant enough to show off toned muscle beneath. Even after your encounter with the ogress, [[you find yourself staring with appreciation]].

<<set $metKorga to "True">>"Fine," you say, forcing down a knot in your throat that threatens to choke you. "Take me instead." You plant your halberd's spearpoint in the ground and step forward, close enough that the ogress has no trouble reaching down and putting one of her titantic, heavy paws on your head and pulling aside your helmet. A short muss of golden hair tumbles free, which Korga slowly strokes as she sets aside her club. "Good kitten," she murmurs, putting just enough pressure on your head to wordlessly impart her command: get down. You fall to your knees, working the buckles on your armor until your breastplate falls away, followed swiftly by your mail and undershirt. The ogress looks on approvingly as you bare your own weighty breasts, letting the full mounds bounce free without the restrictive hug of your armor. "Mmm, kitten not so small after all," she laughs, licking a tusk and giving you a gentle push that puts you on your back. She yanks off her own leather straps, pulling aside the thick hides that restrain her massive orbs and breeder hips, and crawls atop you. The ogress's breasts press heavily into your face, blinding you in a sweet, soft embrace of jiggling titflesh. Her saucer-sized nipples brush against your own tender peaks, rough enough to make you tremble... yet your find your hands instinctively grasping the ogress's hips, trying to find something to steady yourself against. Instead, you only attract Korga's attentions further, and one of her hands grabs at your chest, wrapping one of your breasts between her thumb and forefinger and rolling the fleshy mound like she might the tip of a nipple on a lover her own size. Your gasps mount to a cry of pleasure, squirming beneath her. Even if you weren't pinned between the giant woman's thighs, the trembling bouts of pleasure she's locked you in leave you all but insensate, roiling in the unfamiliar sensation. A creature so large shouldn't be able to be so gentle, to make you feel so good... and yet you can feel wet heat building between your own legs, instinctively answering Korga's groping hands. A few moments later and you're so out of it, moaning and arching your back between Korga's legs that you don't notice her shifting her knees up to rest firmly under the pits of your arms. One word, though, snaps you back to the reality of your situation: one commanding, immutable directive: "[[Lick]]."

Still gripping his side, the salamander starts walking towards the hill. For a moment, you think he's just going to leave, but when he gets to the grassy crest he stops, smiles, and picks something up. A bow, heavy and weathered just like the rest of his gear. The limbs are swept back oddly, carved to look like the spreading wings of some bird of prey; sleek and deadly. Grinning ear to ear, he gives the weather-beaten weapon an affectionate pat and slings it over his back. Finally, his attention turns back to you. "Seriously: thank you. I thought this far in the lowlands, the worst I'd be dealing with would be wolves and gobbos." He sucks in a sharp breath, favoring his right side again. "Ogre took me by surprise. Should have been more careful." He finishes the walk by down the hillside and extends a broad, clawed hand to you. "Name's Tazric." "Vale," you answer, hesitantly placing your bare hand in his. Though his claws curl around your naked flesh, they brush you as gently as feathers. Unconsciously, your feline tail swishes. "Ser Vale. Uh, Skyler. What are you doing all the way out here, all by yourself?" Tazric manages a grin. "Could ask you the same question, Vale-ser-vale." He laughs... and releases your hand, all of a sudden remembering his ribs almost shattered. "Ow. Don't make me laugh. Or give me the opportunity to make myself do it. I, uh, I'm out here looking for someone. Another 'mander like me. Seen any?" You shake your head. "Ah well. A trapper I talk to now and again said he saw one up north, near the coast. Some tower in the middle of the old bog. Been heading that way for a few days now." While he talks, you dig your halberd up and return it to its heavy rest on your shoulder. "Tower up north?" you ask, glancing at the dirt road stretching out ahead. "Balton's tower?" He nods. "That's the one." "[[I'm heading that way myself.]]"

Tazric turns to you with a grin. "That right? What's out there to bring a sphinx-born knight like you so far from home?" "I'm on a mission," you answer, adjusting your cape around your shoulders. "There's some kind of outbreak in the coastlands. Corpses rising. Balton's Tower hasn't asked the Duchy for help yet, but I've been sent to offer aid anyway. A show of good faith, I guess... and I'm not a knight." "Oh? I thought 'ser' was how city-folk addressed a knight. Unless you<<if $metKorga is "True">> somehow hid a manhood from the ogre that whole while. Impressive!<<else>>'re actually a man under all that shiny armor. All you cats look alike to me!<<endif>>" Your cheeks burn, and you purse your lips in outrage. "Why you! I am a Herald of Kaelirra: a living goddess's champion and priestess! I am not some knight and I am definitely not a man!" The salamander throws his hands up defensively. "Okay, okay. Priestess of kawhatywhat. I'm just teasing." You give him a huff and shift your halberd from one shoulder to the other. Calling you a man! While you're busy fuming, Tazric gathers up the scattered arrows that had fallen out of the quiver on his hip and fastens what's left of his tattered cloak around his shoulders. He turns towards the northern road and pulls up his hood. "Seems like we're headed to the same place, Vale," he says over his shoulder. "Unless a little teasin's too insufferable for you..." The offer is implicit, though you can almost hear the smile on the salamander's lips. Considering what you've already run into, it would be safter to travel together. You respond... "[[Fine. Just be quiet.]]" "[[I guess you can tag along... if you can keep up.]]"

Still gripping his side, the salamander starts walking towards the hill. For a moment, you think he's just going to leave, but when he gets to the grassy crest he stops, smiles, and picks something up. A bow, heavy and weathered just like the rest of his gear. The limbs are swept back oddly, carved to look like the spreading wings of some bird of prey; sleek and deadly. Grinning ear to ear, he gives the weather-beaten weapon an affectionate pat and slings it over his back. Finally, his attention turns back to you. "I thought this far in the lowlands, the worst I'd be dealing with would be wolves and gobbos." He sucks in a sharp breath, favoring his right side again. "I should have been more careful. Sorry you got dragged into this. Really am." He finishes the walk by down the hillside and extends a broad, clawed hand to you. "Name's Tazric." "Vale," you answer, hesitantly placing your bare hand in his. Though his claws curl around your naked flesh, they brush you as gently as feathers. Unconsciously, your feline tail swishes. "Ser Vale. Uh, Skyler. I'm... I'm just glad I could help. But what are you doing all the way out here, all by yourself?" Tazric manages a grin. "Could ask you the same question, Vale-ser-vale." He laughs... and releases your hand, all of a sudden remembering his ribs almost shattered. "Ow! Don't make me laugh. Or give me the opportunity to make myself do it. I, uh, I'm out here looking for someone. Another 'mander like me. Don't suppose you've seen any?" You shake your head. "Ah well. A trapper I talk to now and again said he saw one up north, near the coast. Some tower in the middle of the old bog. Been heading that way for a few days now." While he talks, you gather up the discarded bits of armor nearby. You still feel wet all over from Korga's explosive orgasm, but there's not much you can do other than wallow in her scent and buckle your gear back on. Tazric looks away while you dress, even though you don't doubt he saw every second of what happened. "Tower up north?" you ask as you work. "Balton's tower?" He nods, venturing a glance your way. "That's the one." "[[I'm heading that way myself.]]"

<<set $TazAffection to 0>>You brush past the salamander and take to the road. "Fine," you call over your shoulder, still burning from the insult. "Just be quiet." "Alright, alright. Sorry!" the salamander grumbles, falling in step a short ways behind you. You don't turn back to face him for a long while, but every so often as you resume your journey, you can hear his pace falter, a slight misstep caused by pain and fatigue. But<<if $metKorga is "True">> you're glad to have a little space, if only to save yourself having to look at the man you just fucked an ogre to save. You're not sure you can look anybody in the eye who'd seen that... not to mention, you reek of sex still. You shiver, curling your cat-tail around one of your legs. Gonna have to find a bath before long...<<else>> you're not doing much better: your heart is still racing after your confrontation with the ogress, and you find yourself holding your halberd a little more defensively as you walk. Who knows what else is out here?<<endif>> You shake your head and turn your gaze turn towards the horizon. The road stretches ever onwards, as far as the eye can see across the rolling, grassy fields. Yet the smell of the sea grows slowly stronger as you walk. The coast -- and your destination -- fast approaches. At least the road is a little less lonely now, you guess... [[The rest of the day passes peacefully...]]

<<set $TazAffection to 1>>You brush past the salamander and take to the road, calling back "I guess you can tag along... if you can keep up!" You hear a chuckle behind you, followed by heavy, uneven footsteps that quickly catch up. Tazric falls in step beside you, one arm on his side and the other on the bowstring across his chest. Guess he's a little more wary after getting punted over a hill by an ogre! For your part, your eyes turn towards the horizon. The road stretches ever onwards, as far as the eye can see across the rolling, grassy fields. Yet the smell of the sea grows slowly stronger as you walk. The coast -- and your destination -- fast approaches. Faster, now that you have someone to talk with as you forge ahead. [[The rest of the day passes peacefully...]]

<center style="padding:1em">CHAPTER II A Moment's Quiet</center> There's not much of a camp to set up come nightfall beyond tossing down your packs and building up a fire. You gather an armful of of dried grass and twigs from the brush, but your salamander companion insists on lighting them. Giving you a cocky little smirk, he tosses his cloak aside and jabs his tale into the firepit. He grunts with effort, and a second later a spark flares amidst the kindling. When Tazric withdraws his tail, the last few inches of crimson scale are wreathed in orannge flame, flaring as he swings it through the air. The fire in the pit grows, fighting back the encoraching cold of the autumn evening. "I can do magic too," the 'mander laughs. He plops down across from you, curling the burning tail in his lap. Somehow, his clothes don't catch like the kindling did. Your questioning stare just makes him grin all the more. "Only burns hot when I want it to." "Must be handy, being a great big fire-lizard man." He chuckles, pulling the bow from his back and setting it gently aside. "Has its ups and downs. Aren't many of us left, though, so admire while you can." "What do you mean?" The smile on your companion's face slowly fades, and his eyes turn towards the fire. "I mean, there aren't many of us left. Hobgoblins burned my village years ago, scattered or enslaved most of us. Hear the same from other 'manders I've met from other tribes. What few of us I've been able to find, anyway. "That's why I'm all the way out here," he sighs. He holds a hand out to the fire, warming himself. Behind him, the last fingers of sunlight are starting to fade. "I've been gathering up every salamander I can find. Guiding them south, towards the plains. This Balton's Tower place is well out of my way, but if there's a chance of finding one of the old tribe, slim as it is... well." You shift uncomfortably, spirits dampened by the sudden shift in mood. The normally jolly man seems absolutely sullen now, his focus far and away. A moment passes in silence before you find your words again: "At least you're trying." The salamander grunts, scratching at his scales. "So what about you? You kept talking about 'heralds' and 'goddesses' earlier, but I've never heard of either. Care to proselytize to a wayward heathen like me?" <<if $TazAffection == 1>>"Maybe... as long as you don't call me a man again," you tease, more than happy to change the subject.<<else>>"Depends. Gonna call me a man again?" you say, still finding it easy to scowl over that slight.<<endif>> The salamander throws his arms up. "Sorry! Sorry! Far be it for me to bite the hand that feeds -- I mean, heals me. But I am curious. Back in the mountains, you don't hear much about the gods. Feels like they don't hear much about us, either." You could [[talk to Taz about Kaelirra]] and your faith. Not every day you find someone who wants to be preached at. Then again, it's been a long <<if $metKorga is "True">>day, one that's left you plastered in the smells of sex and lustful ogre.<<else>> and violent day.<<endif>> You're sure you saw a brook not far off the roadside while you were gathering wood. You can still [[go take a bath]] while there's a little light left. Or you could just [[go to sleep|make camp for the night]].

<<set $TazAffection == $TazAffection + 1>>"A year ago, my home was on the verge of collapse," you start, shifting to rest your chin on a knee, facing Tazric across the flames. "There was an army coming. More than ten thousand hobgoblin soldiers mobilized from the mountains, descending on a fortress just outside our walls captured by their vanguard." "I heard about that. Biggest news in our lifetime, just about." You nod. There had been little wars before, skirmishes between the Grand Duchy and the Empire, but nothing like this. The war would have torn the region apart, if it had ever started in earnest. "The city managed to put together a couple thousand troops... they'd just lost all their knights, just about, to monster raids on the coast. There was nothing but city watch and conscripts left. They pulled hundreds of us out of oldtown, shoved a halberd in our hands and helmets on our heads, and marched us off to battle. No training to speak of, no idea what was going on other than the end of the world." You shiver at the memory. The fear as you marched across the grassy plains towards the old fortress, knowing full well either you were going to die. What choice did you have? The high lords made that much clear: even they were out on the field, in their shining armor and atop furious warhorses though they were. Every soul that could hoist a weapon had to go fight, highborn or low. "Hobgoblins are slavers and butchers by nature. The Empire would make breeding stock of us women, put the men to hard labor or worse. Better to die on the walls fighting their vanguard, our only hope to send the army back where it came from. Their stockpiles, safe haven, all their commanders... all in one place, inside the old fort at Shatterpike. First and last chance to save our home." You find yourself tracing a finger along the haft of your halberd, finding an unfamiliar comfort in its solid weight. "Except it was a trap. The vanguard knew we were coming, so they set their slaves up in the castle and laid an ambush for us in the fields. We walked right into it. A massacre... or it should have been. Arrows came out of nowhere, then swordsmen cleaving our flanks to shreds. I barely had time to think before one of the brutes was on top of me, putting a blade in my shoulder so deep it pinned me to the ground." [["Ouch."]]

"Ask me again in the morning," you groan. Rising to your feet, you're suddenly keenly aware of just how sore and exhausted you are after days on the road and a <<if $metKorga is "True">>hot and heavy <<endif>>encounter with an ogress. "There's a little brook a stone's throw thataway. I'm going to get a bath while there's still light." Tazric shrugs, "Suit yourself. I'll keep watch on your gear, if you want. Least I can do." Between murmured thanks, you unbuckle your breastplate and pull the mail underneath off over your head. Your wool undershirt is fairly modest, giving just a hint of the cleavage between your generous breasts, but you still find yourself twisting away from the salamander while you doff yoour armor. You can feel his eyes on your back -- or at least, your backside -- until your tail coils around your leg and you march off toward the creek. It's a short enough journey, taking you over a nearby hilltop and into a small vale. Water runs south-west, coming down from the mountains in placid, thin fingers. The brook here is wide ennough to leap even in full armor, and at a glance, maybe just past your waist in depth. While the light pervails, you find a patch of even, safe-seeming stream and start to strip. Though you glance back towards the hills, there's no sign of your male companion as you strip down. A man of some honor, at least. You give a little shiver as the cool evening air brushes your bare skin, but the water is as clear as glass and still carries the heat of the sun on its back. You slowly step into the running water, enjoying the little thrill of it brushing past your naked sex until you're standing in the middle of the narrow river, able to cup up some of the crystal water and brush it up along your shoulders and chest. In the wilderlands, it's so easy to forget the simple comforts of a bath. The release of stress and exhaustion in little sighs and moans, the feeling of purity washing over you as you scrub your pale flesh clean. The weight and worry of the day fades in slow, steady rises of your chest while the light fades to starry embers in the sky. In your relaxed state, [[you fail to notice something soft brushing against your leg]]...

"Maybe some other time," you say, flopping onto your back. "It's been a long day." Across the flames, Tazric shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll keep watch a while; least I can do." You give him a thumb's up and fold your arms behind your head. It's a clear and starry night overhead, and your focus soon drifts into darkness, entranced by the fields of distant, cold light from on high. [[You sleep peacefully that night.|Day Two]]

Something brushes against your bare leg, so softly at first that you think it nothing more than a passing blade of grass on the surface. But the feeling persists, spreading across your hips and thighs like warm oil. You give a startled gasp when something, a soft but insistant force, prods at your quim. Acting on panicked instinct, you strike at the water around you, trying to bat away an invisible intruder... but you find nothing but water, cool and clear and yet gripping at your waist! You struggle and stumble back, but the more you move, the more the water seems to turn to mud around you -- it resists your attempts to escape, gripping at your feet and pulling at your hips until you slip, tumbling backwards into the water with a yelp! Something catches you, cushions you from the impact and at the same time, splays your legs open with gentle but instant pulls. You arms flail wildly, trying to find who or what's gotten a hold of you, but all you can feel is this thicker, goopier water that's surrounding you in every direction. The starlight reveals nothing, save a glistening sheen on the surface that undulates and jiggles every time you struggle. Is... is the water alive!? Your answer comes a moment later when that oily pressence brushes through the lips of your sex and presses against your clit, just hard enough to make your gasp and squeal. Your whole body convulses, shuddering with unwanted pleasure. Something semi-solid reaches out of the river and gropes at your lips, so tender and yet so insistent that your mind can only compare it to a lover's kiss. "You taste delicious," a dulcet, feminine voice says from nowhere. From all around you. "I haven't felt anything this sweet in so long!" The fluids around you undulate, rising from the river's placid surface and morphing into a glistening blue figure. It's obviously female, growing from the surface into a pair of thick hips, a flat belly, and a pair of glistening breasts the same size as your own hefty rack, and leaned forward to squish wetly against them. Its face is human, as soft and feminine as its voice and wreathed in a mane of long, wild blue locks. The creature matches your form only in broad strokes, though. Her outline is curvaceous but indistinct, undulating and jiggling all across her own murky, gooey surface. Her eyes are solid sapphire orbs full of curiosity, mirth... and hunger. You don't know what this slime-like woman is or where she came from, but she has you solidly in her grasp! No amount of squirming and fighting seems able to rip your hands and feet from her embrace, and every time you try and speak she giggles and playfully kisses at you, mufflling your words in her slick lips. "Oh, don't fight!" she pouts, pressing her slimey chest against your own. Somehow her featureless mounds pinch and squeeze at your nipples, like they're hands of their own. "Please? I only want to taste you..." For once, her lips don't cover yours as you... [[Scream "No! Let me go!"]] and struggle with all your might. [[Whimper "A-alright."]] Your whole body trembles at the gooey woman relentlessly teaseing your clit and nipples. Maybe this will have a happy ending?

"No! Let me go!" you shriek, struggling with all the might left to you. You break free of the goo's hold so easily that you almost send yourself flying. The sudden release wrennches your limbs free and leaves you to stagger to the riverside, gasping for breath and trembling with the echoes of the sensual assault. Climbing out of the river, you grab your underthings and shield yourself. A wary glance behind you shows a sullen, feminine figure slowly melding back into the water, apparently uninterested in giving chase. You could swear you hear a whispered "S-sorry..." before she vanishes completely. The starlight on the water's surface shows no lingering trace of her. As if she'd never been there at all. Shuddering to yourself, you redress and jog back to camp as quickly as you can, eager to put as much distance between yourself and the goo-creature as possible. When you finally crest the hill, though, you bump face-first into a solid, chiseled chest. You booth recoil, yelping in alarm before you recoognize each other. Tazric! "I heard screaming," he says quickly, indicating the bow in his hands. "What happened?" You clutch at his cloak, trying at once to speak and catch your breath. "I-I was attacked. Some kind of water creature... in the river." He looks over your shoulder, putting a protective hand around your back. "I don't see anything. Did it-" "It didn't follow. I don't think," you gasp, finding yourself drawn into the salamander's shielding embrace. So strong... Tazric nods slowly, walking you back in his arms. "Good. Goos don't usually attack people, but they're every bit as amorous as that ogress from this afternoon. Lucky she didn't drag you under by mistake." [[You return with Taz to camp,]] quickly finding yourself drawn to your halberd.

"A-alright," you gasp, trembling despite yourself. The goo-creature's soft body ceaselessly teases your clit and nipples, caressing and pinching and gently sucking until your moaning into her lips again. The goo giggles at your answer, and jiggles from the crown of her head to the amorphous mass surrounding your legs. "Thank you," it whispers, and suddenly you're plunging beneath the surface. You gasp and squirm as water and goo engulf your body completely, dragging you beneath the shallow river... yet your mouth, locked with the goo's, floods with air just as surely as ever. It takes a moment for the panic to pass, but when you manage to force your eyes open again, you can see the faint outline of the goo-girl undulating atop you, holding you to herself so that you can't break away from the life-giving kiss. The shapeless mass around your lower half writhes, wrapping firmly around your legs and spreading them wide apart. Her breasts weigh heavily against your own, pressing your back into the sandy riverbed and hiking your rear end upwards. The goo giggles when you gasp and moan, teasing your nipples with her own dexterous peaks until you relax again, and your quim stops clenchiing enough for a tendril of thick, wet slime to trail down from its place on your rosebud to the channel of your sex. Even underwater, the goo's voice is clear and melodious. It seems too come from all around you, even though her mouth never leaves yours. "This will feel great," she promises, holding you a little tighter. "Relax for me?" You take a deep breath from the girl's open mouth, trying to steady yourself. Your fingers dig into her plump, jiggling ass, sinking into her body up to the first knuckle without resistance. She moans lustily at the accidental penetration, and takes it as a sign of your readiness: before you can realize what's going on, a slimey tentacle is forcing its way through your pussylips, spearing your channel so deep and so fast that you can't help but scream in pleasure. "Ooh!" the goo titters, wriggling her phallic tendril inside you. "Even sweeter than I'd hoped!" Even as the goo savors the ambrosial taste of your pussyjuices, you feel another tendril [[angling for a more bitter taste]].

There's no respite from this day, it seems, as you're denied even the small comfort of a peaceful bath. Tazric walks you back to camp, ever in his powerful, protective grip until you find your halberd and armor again. Nothing will convince you to sleep unarmed tonight. Are you going to be alright?" your companion asks, sitting down beside you. "<<if $metKorga is "True">>Twice in one day... that's rough, Vale. If yoou need anything...<<else>>First the ogre, now this. We really ought to stick together, the way this is going.<<endif>>" You nod and <<if $TazAffection >= 1>>give your companion a little smile. Having company on the road is turning out to be some comfort, after all.<<else>> turn away, little interested in small talk tonight.<<endif>> "Get some rest while you can, Ser Vale," Tazric says, folding his legs under himself. "You've earned it. I'll watch for the night." You consider a moment, and then with a sigh, say, "Skye. Please." "Skye," he says with a smile. "I'll go by Taz then, if it please you. See, fast friends already!" Ugh. With a final sigh, you sprawl back on the soft grass and curl your hands beneath your head. [[Sleep overtakes you...|Day Two]]

<center style="padding:1em">CHAPTER II A Night to Remember</center> [Placeholder] The next day dawns, but the big night is yet to come. Up next: Vale and Taz head towards Balton's Tower, a fortress of the lizardfolk swamp-dwellers under seige by a mysterious outbreak of undead. Our heroes have a quiet night to get more intimately acquainted before a fierce battle. A dangerously sexy villain reveals herself in the aftermath, leading our heroes ever deeper into the dark bog...

Created by Savin

Another tendril forms from the goo's amorphous hips, wriggling into position just beneath the first, thicker member. Your breath catches in your throat, twisting into a desperate gasp of panic and pleasure -- its slender tip is pressing against your asshole! Even though you know struggling is useless, you can't help but squirm in the goo-girl's arms as a gentle but insistant pressure wells against your back door. "This will be good!" her breathless voice promises, even as she's spreading your legs wider and filling your pussy with thicker thrusts of goop. "Okay! Here we go..." The undulating woman suddenly reminds you just how fluid and malleable she really is. You feel a hair-thin thrust against your ass, so small and so fast that you can do nothing to stop it spearing you. Your holes both clench instinctively, squeezing around the slick goo, but the second tentacle only grows in thickness. It stretches your ass open from the inside until it's almost as turgid as the appendage pounding your twat. She wasn't lying about it being good, though. Oh, goddess, far from it! If your mouth wasn't enshrouded by hers, you'd be screaming with the ecstasy of it, bucking your hips against the twinned tentacles. The feeling of fullness, of being fucked to your absolute limit and stuffed with gallons of sapphire goo is unlike anything you could have ever imagined. You surrender your anal virginity not with a whimper, but a lust-laden moan, arching your back against the semi-solid temptress's weighty breasts. "See?" she giggles, starting to match her thrusts. One tendril in, the other out, never leaving you less than half-full for a moment. "I told you... you love it." She sounds so sure of herself, so completely confident in how she's able to make you feel. You almost wish she was wrong, just to spite the goo-creature... but then both tentacles ram inside you together, filling you so much that your belly distends around her, and [[the last vestiges of resentment burn away in shriek of climax]].

Your hips buck against the goo-girl's thrusting tendrils, holes clenching and squeezing and yet never able to make a dent in the turgid slime filling your sex and bowels. She giggles, undulating inside you while you cum and cum. You thank the goddess for whatever means it is that this creature is providing you with air, because by the time she's done with you you're gasping and panting like a whore, mindlessly letting your body take its pleasure from a source all too happy to provide. "You taste so lovely," the goo murmurs into your ear, gently rippling the slime around your nipples. "So wonderfully fertile." Her arms wrap around your waist, bearing you down against the sandy floor of the little river. You can't be much lower than an arm's reach, yet here she looks like a siren of the deep, her sapphire hair flowing around her like a veil in the wind. "I wish you could stay," she sighs, wrapping herself so tightly around you -- and filling you so completely -- that you can't help but cry out in pleasure. "Thank you for sharing with me." With her mouth locked around yours, there's little you can do to respond but gently squeeze your gaping pussylips around her throbbing, cold spear. She giggles, running a hand along your belly as if to feel herself inside. A smile spreads on her violet cheeks. "Unless..." the tendril in your pussy convulses, thickens even more, and somehow drills deeper inside you than before. Leeches of slime spread all across your inner walls, sticking to you like the familiar trails of a man's cooling seed. "Unless you would take a part of me with you..." Is she... is she asking to impregnate you!? [[No way you're carrying a goo inside you!]] But [[if being fucked felt that good... what pleasures await you?]]

You urgently shake your head, trying to squeeze the goo back out of you. The sex-hungry creature gasps in surprise, and with a rush of watery sensation, her tendrils withdraw from you completely. "I... I'm sorry! It was just a thought," she whispers, slowly peeling herself off your body. "I thank you nonetheless. It was sweet of you to share, however brief." Her mouth parts from yours with a final, deep kiss. She releases you, and one potent stroke has you breeching the surface with a gasp. You blink in the darkness, almost blind save for the cold and distant light of the stars. There's no trace of the goo-girl, even as you swish your feet around in the water. Seems she took what you gave and left sated. With a shudder, you pull yourself from the river and sprawl out on the grass. <<if $MetKhorga == "True">>For the second time today, your <<else>>Your<<endif>> body has been defiled, yet it felt so wonderful... a pleasure like that is intoxicating, and indeed leaves you breathless on the river's edge. Your womanhood drips vestiges of slime and your own feminine juices, yet the smell of sex, at least, was washed away by the water. You feel strangely clean, for all that's happened. You laugh to yourself, wondering if the goo's body somehow scrubbed you clean while she was pounding your holes in. Speaking of holes, you winces as your muscles contract around your backdoor. You don't suppose you've been saving that for anything, but it feels strange to be robbed of your first time using your ass for pleasure by a water-monster. Guess there's worse ways to break yourself in... With a weary yet contented sigh, you pick yourself up and [[return to camp]].

Somehow, you can't bring yourself to refuse. The pleasure you've felt thus far is intoxicating, alluring beyond anything you ever dreamed off. The slime-girl can do things no mortal should -- who are you to say no to more pleasure so freely offered? "Really?" the goo-girl smiles, rubbing your belly a little more lovingly. "I'm so glad." You gasp as the tendril in your ass slithers out in a rush of warmth and water, left momentarily agape until your muscles can regain control. A moment later, though, you can feel that goo being repositioned, redirected through the amorphous siren's thicker member. The slimy tendrils that have split from her crown wriggle and bloat, clutching and pinching delicately at your insides. A cry of pleasure escapes your lips, swallowed by the sex-starved creature all around you. She smiles, but the mirth and playfulness in her eyes are gone, replaced by deep concentration. Her brow furrows and her hips beat, thrusting into you again with a rigid authority that makes your heart skip. One thrust is all it takes to push something inside you, a blob of goo so thick that you feel like you've just taken a lover's fist wholesale. You cry out again and again as the gooey shaft slowly works its thick, lumpy load deep into your pussy. It's slow going, stretching you out inch by agonizingly pleasurable inch. Now you really can feel your belly bloating, swelling around the sheer mass the goo-girl's fucking into you. You'd think to protest, if you weren't busy cumming your brains out. "There you go. Relax!" she giggles, giving you a few short, quick thrusts to help you over the edge. "Getting bred should feel good!" Getting bred... is that what you're doing? You suppose, after a fashion, though you don't know how much of a mother this is really making you. Somehow you always thought it would involve a man, and a real dick. But in your blissed-out state, you can't devote much thought to the matter beyond how wonderful having your womb flooded with goo feels, or how her tendril undulates inside your passage before the tip snaps off, leaving the thick lump somewhere deeper in your cunny than you've ever felt before. [[Just like that, she's done]].

A few minutes later, you drag yourself back to camp. You've made yourself up as modestly as you can, though in your sex-addled and exhausted state, you know full well that your undershirt's practically soaked through and your gait is far from normal. Nothing you can do about either of those things, save plop down next to the flickering campfire as quickly as you can. The salamander is right where you left him, and though he eyes you as you approach, he says nothing save, "Well, you look <<if $HasGooBaby == "True">>plump and <<endif>>hale, Ser Vale. Have a good bath?" You mumble something in the affirmative, trying to hide the burn on your cheeks. He shrugs noncomitally and shifts slightly away from you, turning his gaze to the country road once more. "Long day ahead, if you want to reach the village. Should get some sleep while you can." As if on command, a powerful yawn grips you, making you stretch back on the grass. "Sleep... sounds great about now." Tazric chuckles. "I thought it might. Catch some shut-eye, Ser V-" "Skye. Please," you say. "<<if $TazAffection == 0>>Maybe that'll help you remember I'm a girl, Tazric." The salamander throws his head back with a laugh. "Okay, okay! Skye, you made your point. Speaking of which, you can just cut it to Taz. Since we're pinching on syllables and all."<<else>>No need to be so formal, Tazric." The salamander chuckles, scratching at his tail. "Skye, then. You can call me Taz, by the way. Since we're pinching on syllables and all."<<endif>> He flashes you a grin through the flames, and for a moment, you're keenly aware of Taz's eyes on you -- but maybe that's just your over-sexed mind inferring the way his golden eyes wander across the swells of your breasts, the smooth muscles of your bare thighs. With a small smirk, you roll over and put your back to the salamander, letting your mind wander where it wills until [[sleep takes you...|Day Two]]

"Ahhh!" the goo sighs, her hips falling back from yours with an audible pop and a release of bubbles. "There. A part of me, for you. As thanks." She giggles and caresses the slight swell of your belly. Already your flesh is adjusting, squeezing down around the lump in your womb to recover its shape. You feel incredibly full, like the morning after a great feast. It's... pleasant, a steady weight that shifts inside you when you move, sloshing gently while the goo-girl relaxes her grip. "Thank you again," she smiles. "Take care of me out there... and I'll take care of you. I promise!" Her mouth parts from yours with a final, deep kiss. She releases you and withdraws, leaving you to reach for the surface. You breech with a gasp and blink in the darkness, almost blind save for the cold and distant light of the stars. There's no trace of the goo-girl, even as you swish your feet around in the water. It seems she's already departed, sated by your submission and contented by your eagerness to carry... what? Her child? Herself? She was hardly clear about what she's left inside you will become, but you have a soothing confidence that whatever it is can only mean well for you. It feels too good not to. With a shudder, you pull yourself from the river and sprawl out on the grass. <<if $MetKhorga == "True">>For the second time today, your <<else>>Your<<endif>> body has been defiled, yet it felt so wonderful... a pleasure so alluring yet so overwhelming as to leave you breathless on the river's edge. Your womanhood drips vestiges of slime and your own feminine juices, yet the smell of sex, at least, was washed away by the water. You feel strangely clean, for all that's happened. You laugh to yourself, wondering if the goo's body somehow scrubbed you clean while she was pounding your holes in. Speaking of holes, you winces as your muscles contract around your backdoor. You don't suppose you've been saving that for anything, but it feels strange to be robbed of your first time using your ass for pleasure by a water-monster. Guess there's worse ways to break yourself in... With a weary yet contented sigh, you pick yourself up and [[return to camp]]. <<set $HasGooBaby to "True">>

"Ouch," you echo, rubbing at your breastplate over the scar. "The pain was blinding. The feeling of his claws ripping at my armor, teeth snapping like a feral wolf... even worse. Then there was a flash of light, and the bastard was gone. I felt a cold fire in my body, easing the pain until it was nothing but a tingle. Like a memory. A woman was standing over me, a ravenette with flowing robes of white and nine tails streaming out behind her. She healed me. And she told me, 'Take heart. There's still hope left. Don't lose it.' "She pressed my halberd back into my hand and vanished, dancing off through the battlefield like an angel of mercy to save my comrades as she had me. When the fighting was done, and we'd won the field against all odds, I sought her out... we all did. Those of us she'd saved gathered around her at the fortress gates, where she'd granted what few dozen knights we'd had left the power to hold against a thousand men: a power of holy fire, to heal one another, to rebuff the Empire's soldiers like the heroes of legend. "She told us her name was Kaelirra, a goddess. That she had been asleep for a very long time, but by providence or by the strength of our need, she had awoken in time to aid. To help us fight back the darkness that threatened to engulf the world, if only we would place our faith in her." Tazric cocks an eyebrow. "So this Kaelirra of yours... she just showed up out of nowhere, saved your army, and demanded you worship her? That about it?" "No! She didn't... she didn't demand anything. What I give her, I give more freely than anything in my life. She offered us hope, Taz. A chance to be more than ourself, more than mortal. A way to stand against an evil so great and terrible that it had swallowed the world. You live on the mountains, don't you? You know how bad the Empire is. How vast and powerful it is. But with the goddess's power, we few hundred turned back an army. We saved our city." The salamander grunts noncomitally. "Sounds like a wizard to me." Somehow, you find yourself laughing. "Maybe. But I guess that's what belief is, isn't it? I believe, Tazric... with all my heart. What do you believe in?" "Not a whole lot," he grunts, flopping onto his back. "But I hate the Empire too. Enough that I wouldn't mind a wizard showing up and giving me a bunch of hocus-pocus powers to go smite some greenskins of my own." You sigh, shaking your head. [["That's not how that works."]]

"Never easy with you religious types, is it?" he chuckles. "But who am I to argue. You healed me with a prayer, after all... never seen anybody do that before, wizard or otherwise." "I can do a lot more than that, you know. I've trained every day since that battle to be an instrument of Kaelirra's will... her power flows through me like cold fire when I call it. All she asks in turn is that I believe in her. That I embody what she stands for: a light in the darkness. A beacon against evil." Your companion makes a little laugh and flicks his tail through the grass, sparking the stones near the fire. "Well, you've got the radiant part down, at least, Ser Vale." The burn on your cheeks comes so suddenly that your eyes bulge. Thanks be, there's a fire between you and the salamander, shielding your face in the light until you can twist away and cover yourself. Radiant!? You can't decide if this lonely hunter's teasing you... or coming on as brazen as a rake. Evidently, Tazric knows exactly what effect his jab had. He breaks out laughing, a jovial rumble from the belly that leaves him rolling on his side with mirth. Even you manage to snicker -- it's infectious! "Sorry, sorry... I didn't mean..." he starts, then laughs again. "Ah, sometimes I forget you kittens aren't, uh, as forward as firehearts like me. Didn't mean to be rude." "No, no!" you babble, trying at once not to laugh or blush. "It's fine. Really!" You bite a lip, trying to fight back the embarrased roseblooms on your cheek. [[Maybe you ought to take that cold river bath after all!]] Or just [[try and ignore Taz's flirtations]] for now and go to sleep.

"You know, I think... I think I'm going to go take a bath," you say, hustling to your feet and clawing at the buckles on your armor. "Saw a little river just over the hill while I was gathering firewood. You, uh, mind watching my things for a little?" Tazric chuckles, "Sure. Least I can do. I'll be here when you get back, not a worry." The way he's staring at you as you pop your mail hauberk off, letting your chest bounce beneath your thin undershirt... yeah, he's sticking around. Also pointedly through his breeches, if you had to guess. Lucky him, the flickering shadows of the flame hide some of your companion, too. You ditch your armor and weapon in a pile and turn on a heel, trying not to think about his golden eyes boring into your ass until you're well over the hill... and can finally take a deep breath of solitude. Damn him! One word, and you're practically melting all over him... Radiant! Harumph! You shudder despite yourself and start walking. It's a short enough journey, taking you over a nearby hilltop and into a small vale. Water runs south-west, coming down from the mountains in placid, thin fingers. The brook here is wide ennough to leap even in full armor, and at a glance, maybe just past your waist in depth. While the light pervails, you find a patch of even, safe-seeming stream and start to strip. Though you glance back towards the hills, there's no sign of your male companion as you strip down the rest of the way. A man of some honor, at least. You give a little shiver as the cool evening air brushes your bare skin, but the water is as clear as glass and still carries the heat of the sun on its back. You slowly step into the running water, enjoying the little thrill of it brushing past your naked sex until you're standing in the middle of the narrow river, able to cup up some of the crystal water and brush it up along your shoulders and chest. In the wilderlands, it's so easy to forget the simple comforts of a bath. The release of stress and exhaustion in little sighs and moans, the feeling of purity washing over you as you scrub your pale flesh clean. The weight and worry of the day fades in slow, steady rises of your chest while the light fades to starry embers in the sky. In your relaxed state, [[you fail to notice something soft brushing against your leg]]...

"I... I think I'm going to go to sleep. Goodnight, Tazric." You quickly roll onto your side, pulling your cape around your shoulders. The salamander across the fire chuckles once again, then falls silent for a moment. "You can just call me Taz, you know," he offers after a moment. "My friends do." "I... uh, Skye," you answer back, trying to calm your nerves with a few deep breaths. "That's what my mother called me." You can hear Taz's smile in his voice. "Skye. It's pretty. Suits you." The blush returns, but this time there's no laugh to chase it off... just the settling quiet of friendly companionship. Radiant, huh? You nestle into your capes, smiling as [[sleep takes you|Day Two]]