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 Chronicles of the Crimson Storm 
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Post Chronicles of the Crimson Storm
I was bored and unsatisfied with the scenes I was reading on my CoC play-through so I decided to rewrite some of them to actually -really- fit my character's style and behavior.



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Chronicles of the Crimson Storm

Act 1: A few Recollections

Chapter 1: She who caught my eyes.



Ladies, gentlemen, as well as everything in-between and far beyond, I bid you a good evening. I shall be your host tonight. You may call me Nyla; I am otherwise known to these lands as either “The blade dancer” or “the Crimson Storm”. Worry not, worry not fine gents from Tel’Adre; my reputation has been far exaggerated by those vindictive, unpleasantly sore losers wolves. While I do have a tendency to brutally murdering things, you may take my highest word that I only do so when dully challenged or provoked beyond what common sense would allow a sane one to push their luck. However, those are tales for another time. No, this first story I wish to share with you actually stars another than myself, so now without further ado…


It had been a while since I first met this particular girl while wandering in prey to boredom in the swamps if Mareth. The local Driders prove to be quite aggressive and their relentless attacks are good exercise for me to remain in shape, as such, I tend to spend idle time over there often. When I crossed her, I was slightly surprised at first I must admit. I could tell from a glance that she did not belong in this damp and vile place that she claimed territory, perhaps even less than myself.

However particular she was, though, she still attacked me like all the others. The red shimmer of her blade, the heat of the flames that grazed me, but more importantly the flames in her eyes and soul warned me that she meant busyness. With this in mind, I didn’t hold my blows either. In whirlwinds of steel, I waltzed around her, deflecting her cleaving weapon and responding with lunges of my own at the weak points of the otherwise mighty natural armor of her scales. I was merciless in my disabling strikes, but even as she fell to her knees to curse me, she was able to retain some of her composure. She made it quite obvious that she refused to accept defeat and that she would be back.

This is where someone a bit smarter would have finished her off, but I am at the mercy of my whimsicalness. I did not feel compelled to do so in the least, and besides, those revenge fights often proved to be quite entertaining. As I turned heels and walked away, I asked myself: Was leaving her in that state, potentially alone to die, not even crueler than finishing her off? It most definitely was for most opponents, but it was too late to turn back and time would prove me wrong.

It did not take long before I encountered her again. A few days later, for my evening “target practice” I found myself in the swamp again, trading ranged attacks between my bow and the frenetic spinneret of a Drider. My target having come to the end of its use, I began wandering again and crashing down from the skies with thunderous force, there she was again. It seemed that she had very quickly healed up what would have otherwise left a normal human paralyzed over such a short time as a few days and was quite clearly out for revenge. Once more, we sparred. She displayed a renewed ferocity that left a little bit of an impression on me I must say. Such feistiness is never a bad thing.

This time, I avoided pressure points, simply focusing on bringing her to her knees through raw damage and gauging out the extent of her resolve. I was not left wanting! The girl took blow after blow from my rapiers with determination and self-sacrifice, only once more collapsing when the pain was too great. Once more, she promised me with those eyes of hers; those deliciously defiant and hating eyes, “This won’t be the end of it.”

By the time I met her again, coming down at me once more, I had grown to like the girl quite a bit. She just had a little something special. This time, she came at me with a different strategy, focusing rather on her control of blazes to try to damage me rather than savagely attacking with her axe like she had previously done. Perhaps she had learned that there was no besting my defense that way. I, myself, used a different approach as well. I avoided direct damage and rather allowed her to fatigue herself into exhaustion with her magic, violently deflecting her axe away to throw her off balance when she would attack me with it. Before long, the dragoness was on her knees again.

-“You…haven’t…beaten me…yet…” she panted weekly, despite this being the third time the situation ended up like this.

I replied with a small chuckle and quietly walked towards her. Perhaps if she wouldn’t admit defeat -this way- it was necessary to persuade her in some other fashion? She rose her head feebly at my approach, probably thinking that this time for sure, I would end her. That was far from my plan, however.

-“What the fuck…”

I sat down, leaning my back against a tree and pulling her onto my lap. Obviously this was bound to confuse to dragon-girl, but she was had neither the strength nor the time to complain after being spared three times and never abused of.

-“I don’t fucking understand you, the hell is this!?”

I wrapped my arms around her from behind and knocked the air out of her lung in a swift motion before immediately releasing the pressure and rubbing the smooth silk of my red dress against her body as she panted to recover. It must have felt as soft as the caress of a little cat; the fabric of my dress is such a pleasant fit. I gently, carefully massaged the area I previously violence with a growing peace. Her red scales and hair fitted my own dress and hair and the heat of her blood was a lot like me. Even in this awkward moment, I felt extremely soothed. I liked her, enjoyed her mere presence, her warmth, for reasons beyond my reasoning. Emotions are truly blind. I just held her, tilting against the tree and pressing her back against my generous chest.

Though of course, this was not a mutual feeling, so before she could go on to more antics after recovering her breath, I silenced her voice with my lips, ending her little struggle. Probably from all the confusion, it didn’t take too long for her to reciprocate. My tongue circled around hers, gently rubbing it with enough delicateness to compensate for both lady warriors’ lack of it.

With my right arm still holding her back onto my breasts, my left hand slithered down the dragoness’ bare midriff, circling teasingly around her most sensitive areas while gathering a bit of wetness.

-“My, my, aren’t we a little excited from just a kiss?” I tossed at her playfully.
-“N-No! You’re… you’re wrong.”
-“Am I?” a small pause “In that case I guess you’ll have to explain yourself the next time we meet.”

With this, I slithered my fingers more quickly, rubbing and caressing her outsides. As a female myself, I knew that the teasing caused a strong build-up of excitement. I kept on wavering my fingers more and more. Swiftly gliding against her skin and flesh with the lightness of a feather, causing her hips to produce little involuntary spasms as her excitement grew and grew. Before long, my second hand had joined the first, circling around her bud with just a grazing touch while my other hand’s index traced her opening with all the moisture needed.

Ending the “torment” of my teasing, I inserted two fingers within in a firm, rapid movement contrasting heavily with the lightness of all up to now. Just the way I would like it. A small gasp escaped her lips before I began my work. While a fighter I may be, a succubus I remained, she had no chance. Rather than doing a pumping motion, my two fingers inside her began to sway from left to right, back and forth circling around at an angle. Even though two slender fingers of mine had no girth to speak of, I moved them with an unsuspected force, heavily stimulating her insides. Once it was a clockwise circle stretching her walls to the size they would if they were accommodating a particularly-endowed incubus, then my fingers centered back and split in opposite ways up and down, right and left, up and down, right and left. A counter-clockwise incubus’ girth followed before small waving spirals continued.

-“I…I’m not enjoying this…n-not with someone like you!” she managed to growl; I was amazed.
-“Then with someone like who?” I replied playfully to her defiant eyes that were beginning to fog up from the stimulations.

The dragoness’ legs stiffened and close, as if trying to trap my fingers within. What could I do but oblige with more stimulation? After all her presence was so soothing and her warmth so familiar that I couldn’t help but feel friendly towards her. My more-or-less free hand slithered back up, giving attention to the dragon girl’s bare chest in the same ways I tended to her outsides. Under my finger’s gentle but firm “assaults”, she panted and moaned, her tongue sticking out in pleasure. It didn’t take much more for her to reach her limit, her entire body twitching and fidgeting weekly under the sensations. I removed my digits and simply let her lay on my own chest wordlessly, leaving a kiss on the back of her neck.

-“I…hate you…” she whispered proudly one last time before drifting off to sleep.
-“That’s fine” I whispered back into her ears. “Your furious passion is what makes me love you.” I stood back up and left against the tree, as comfortably as one could be possibly against rough barks.

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Mon Oct 01, 2012 6:41 pm
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Post Re: Chronicles of the Crimson Storm
OHSHIT, WHAT'STHIS.

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Yeap.

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