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Hadess
Total Newbie
Joined: 13 Oct 2002
Posts: 21
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 Posted: 01/23/04 - 18:45 Post subject: Crashing a MMORPG
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MY PLAN TO CRASH MY FAVORITE MMORPG SERVER REQUIRED A LITTLE HELP FROM AN UNEXPECTED PLACE
After losing my best character's most powerful staff in my favorite online game, I knew I had to take drastic action to get it back. I discovered that if I could just crash the game database -- say, by summoning 257 dragons in a single zone -- I could force the game to restore an old backup where my character still had his stuff. I would, once again, be the most powerful evil cleric in the game. My plan was flawless.
I started posting announcements all over the taverns, and pretty soon word spread all over the server. I told everyone it was a Dragon-summoning competition, where the best looking dragon would win over 2 million platinum pieces. But people began to suspect that something was up. In the hours leading up to the contest, the streets of neighboring towns were filled with panic, looting, and debauchery.
At last the hour was at hand. I knew that I had to somehow get these guys to summon 257 dragons simultaneously before the end of the evening, when the server would back itself up and my opportunity would be lost forever. A low fog hung in the air around the ruins of the old temple where I decided to make my move. In the nearby village, a horde of playerkillers were killing everything in sight, oblivious to their reputation, screaming about the end of the world as their swords glinted in the blood-red sunlight and fires crackled across the blackened husks of what used to be player-built housing. The signs of Armageddon were all around; on the cracked and overgrown steps leading up to the temple ruins, priests shouted at the incoming sorcerers to repent, REPENT!
And on a nearby hillock a Bard sung a song with only his drums as an
accompaniment:
That's great it starts with an earthquake
Birds and drakes and players slain
Lenny Bruce is not afraid;
Wizards going PK, listen to yourself say
"Gimmie buffs" it's not enough
Knights are shucking armored stuff
Preachers casting cure light wounds
Lining up the two moons, wetting in their pantaloons
Less leet, dead meat, cast flight, bright light,
Going down you level up it's allright ... right?
It's the end of the world as we know it!
It's the end of the world as we know it!
It's the end of the world as we know it...
At least online.
The song was suddenly interrupted when a mammoth scaled foot crushed the bard with a tremendous wet squish and final, agonized cry. The dragon who had done the dirty work shone bluish-green in the diffuse sunlight, smoke pouring from his nostrils. He was just one of the dozens of fell beasts who stomped amongst the broken stone pillars or circled above the hillside, knots of sorcerers from numerous guilds below chanting the high-level incantations to bring them into being. Already the framerate was chugging; magic users on lesser machines had to stare at the ground to keep from crashing.
But it wasn't enough!! By my count there were just under a hundred dragons in the ruined temple zone, already an impressive feat but by no means enough to crash the server. I yelled above the din, trying to get the magic users to invite their friends over, but they insisted that everyone they knew who could summon dragons was already there. Already the great beasts filled the sky ... and soon the sorcerers would be asking for their 2 million platinum piece reward.
I didn't even have two million platinum pieces! I was counting on the server to crash. I began to pray for a miracle at the ruined temple altar, shadows of the dragons above crisscrossing the stone surface.
That's how he found me, the old man in the tattered black robes. I estimated that the Wizard before me had been a character since the game first started, but his wrinkled, scarred face showed an age beyond his years.
"On your feet, plebian! Speak the truth, man, for I am the Divine Unix Server Administrator, and your wretched machinations have aroused both my interest and ire!" he boomed. "WHY have you requested 257 dragon handlers? Why not the binarily divisible holy number of 256? Could this be an attempt to bring some part of the database to its knees? Speak, nose morsel!"
Was he a game admin sent to bust me? Or another player who had uncovered my scheme? I didn't know, but either way, in the hour of the apocalypse, I had nothing to lose. "Yes ... I'm going to crash this server. Crash it dead! Bring it down like Sodom and Gomorrah, topple it like the walls of Jericho, so that it'll restore my backed-up character from a week ago."
The gnarled man nodded, stroking his chin. "I thought as much," he typed back. "For over a year I've been trying to do the same thing. I've nested 257 backpacks into one another. I've flooded a chat channel with over 1000 screaming bots. I've created characters with 6000-letter-long names. Yet the server has withstood my nefarious orchestrations. But you, little man? You must know something I don't. I will see your little plan to fruition."
He turned his back to me and raised his arms toward a hillside. I frantically typed questions after question to him, only to be ignored. What I didn't understand until moments later was that he was private messaging his guild.
Suddenly, through a veil of shimming white light, a line of wizardly figures slowly emerged until their silhouettes stretched across the horizon. They carried staffs and wore pointed hats. As one, they raised their arms and began summoning. There were easily 200 of them.
"...who!?" I typed.
At last the Divine Server administrator answered. "The Koreans," he said. "Themost powerful single body of MMOG players in the world. They can mobilize thousands of cybercafe surfers in the time it takes to send a single cell phone text message. And now, they will summon your dragons. Fall to your knees and grovel, goatish vassal, for you stand between the cheese-filled toes of GIANTS!"
One by one the dragons appeared in the skies above, until their swirling bulk blotted out the sun. And then they kept coming, appearing in flashes of yellow and purple magic, white sparks raining from the sky like hail.
Soon the individual dragons became indistinct, as the dragon models -- spawning in so quickly -- were drawn on top of one another. Above the ruined temple the blackened sky was filled with indiscriminate blobs of multicolored wings and tails and teeth, flapping and swinging in every direction.
Then, when one of the chaotic evil dragons attacked one of the lawful good dragons, the stuttering server suddenly lurched them all into active combat mode, and fire exploded in all directions. By now, even the most powerful of computers couldn't render them all; every few seconds a frame would appear on one's computer monitor, a hellish conflagration of scales and explosions, claws and teeth locked together like a satanic M.C. Escher portrait.
The noise was inhuman, by now a continuous bellowing roar, as if a million Ford Pintos suddenly backed into each other in a stadium filled with mousetraps.
And above this monstrous din, I asked the Divine Server Administrator why a wizard as powerful as himself wanted to end the world.
"Over a year ago, a group of filthy twinkers under the tutelage of a pithyWindows Administrator managed to player-kill me 36 times in 24 hours. I lost everything."
"Over a year ago?" I asked, as a few feet away two dragons came crashing to the ground and began fighting claw-to-claw with their smoldering wings torn to ribbons. "But the backups are done weekly."
"FOOLISH MORTAL!" he boomed. "So distraught was I on losing my lewt that I visited the server farm of this game in person. The grotesque reprobates who run this sham of a service refused to restore my character, but while I was there I surreptitiously snapped the write-protect tab off of their backup tapes."
My mind whirled. I didn't know what to type. The Administrator seemed to revel in my confusion.
"That's right, little man! Those fewls THOUGHT they were backing up their database every week, but it hasn't been backed up since January 12th, 2003! AND NOW BY MINE OWN HANDS I SHALL ROLL BACK TIME AND REGAIN MY LOST LEWT!!"
He began to chant a spell that would summon the 257th dragon. "Noo!" I typed, and I frantically equipped my sword to try to attack him. But my framerate crawled; I staggered toward him, sword outstretched ... slowly ... slowly ... But then his spell was done.
No dragon appeared, but the mass of dragons above us suddenly froze, and an eerie silence descended.
"Had they written this in Linux," scoffed the Administrator, "It wouldn't have crashed."
The next two minutes would live on in legend. None of the players could see it, but the 257th dragon overwrote the shop inventory part of the database, meaning he appeared in the storeroom of a bakery in the town below. The beast struggled amidst a pile of dough and flour, but the game read the data all wrong, so from the AI shopkeeper's perspective his inventory now included 47 stickybuns, 119 deceased trolls, and two towns. He sold the latter to a player who thought he was buying a piece of cake, and for this reason moments later players were teleporting into the player's inventory. On hearing the voices in his head, he frantically tried to drop the town, which created a gaping hole in the game map where the town used to be. This hole led into a part of the database that tracked monster spawning behavior, where several players innocently walked, causing a horde of locusts and lich lords to assault the capital. 65536 lich lords, actually -- far more than the server could create. Fire rained from the sky as a solid wall of undeath poured through the town gates like water. The townspeople, those who weren't petrified at the sight, fled in all directions, screaming that the end had come. All but one, a bold high-level cleric, who bravely stood on a platform in the town square and cast "turn undead." Unbeknownst to him, the majority of the over 65,000 liches had been spawned into the heightmap data file, so by exorcising them the cleric turned the seas to blood, the land to lava, and sent several towns 1000 feet below sea level. Their inhabitants drowned instantly and (thanks to an overwritten value that now set the game's map size to 16x16 feet) they respawned into the magic spell effects tables. This briefly turned everyone who still lived into pretty butterflies before the server finally crashed entirely.
Twenty anxious minutes passed while I tried to log back in, desperate to see the results of the horror once the servers were restored.
My character woke up in a green swaying field of grass near one of the starting towns. I checked my inventory -- one rusted short sword, a melon, and a gnarled stick I had carved myself. Nearby, a rat saw me and it attacked. He bit me, and half of my hit points went away. I frantically attacked it with my stick, missing, missing, and finally hitting. It took seven blows to kill the beast, by which time I was almost dead.
I sunk into my chair. Darkly I remembered that I had just started playing the game in January of last year. "No," I whispered in hideous disbelief. "No ..."
My character fell to his knees, looked up to the cruel heavens, and waved his ordinary wooden staff in the air as he shook his fist. "I'm a newbie! I'M A NEWBIE! NNNOOOOOOO!!!"
You can find others here http://www.gamespy.com/dailyvictim/
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Banzai
Guest
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 18:48 Post subject:
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NOW THAT IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!
Give this man a gold monky.
Balls should be rewarded. As after reading the first 10 pages I saw that this could be a might fire for flames to graviate toward.
you my friend, are a true American hero
"Mr. Lurker turned poster"
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NinjaBurger
RealPoor Guru
Joined: 01 Sep 2003
Posts: 2800
Location: St. Louis
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 18:50 Post subject:
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I'm in.
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compusmack
RealPoor Master of Posts
Joined: 15 Oct 2002
Posts: 6354
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 18:56 Post subject:
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awesome.
I love the irony in the story, it's perfect.
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ATM Banana
RealPoor Master of Posts
Joined: 02 Jan 2003
Posts: 8575
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 18:58 Post subject:
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they're all perfect...
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Tolanin
RealPoor Guru
Joined: 16 Oct 2002
Posts: 3551
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 19:00 Post subject:
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that story made me want to f**k a hot girl.
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Suriya
Luke Warm
Joined: 14 Oct 2002
Posts: 242
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 20:03 Post subject:
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Hahaha!
This story made miss the Realm...
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KapnKimchi
Luke Warm
Joined: 15 Oct 2003
Posts: 311
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 20:22 Post subject:
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I prefer these stories. ^^
The morning in Kelethin was crisp as always. High in the treetops the temperature was much cooler than down on the forest floor. Sunshine speared it's way into the lofty wooden structures in narrow rays and sharp angles. Bird chirps and wolf cries filled the air in a gentle cacophony.
And occasionally, a mysterious song could be heard.
It took skill to hear it; you could only listen for it among the other sounds of nature if you knew precisely what you were listening for. Visitors to the vast Faydark never gave a second thought to the melodic wailing which seemed to whisper through the trees on occasion, the quiet cry never lasting much more than a minute or two, and always blending as though it were nothing more than the call of an owl, or the howl of a wolf.
But the Elves knew the sound… and when one of them listened carefully, paid very close attention, they would hear the infrequent melody. A quiet, high-pitched tune, different every time, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical. Then they would smile knowingly and go about their business.
One of the very highest structures in the city was an Inn. It had no actual name, and business there was infrequent. Many of the Wood Elves found their calling in hunting and adventure, rarely returning to town, and only visiting the lower merchants near the lifts when they did. It was small… in fact, it had only one room. These things would normally mean that it was a relatively unsuccessful establishment. Fortunately, it also had two regulars.
The owner of the Inn often left the building when they were there, knowing them to be trustworthy patrons, and also good self-sufficient business. They rarely required anything of the Innkeeper other than the room itself. As such, the only ones in the Inn this morning were those two patrons.
On a bed near a window slept one, a half-elven warrior who called herself Nectar. Her short, sandy blonde hair was clipped evenly about her head, giving a somewhat tomboyish look to her visage. Other than that, however, every bit of her was as feminine as could be. Her pale skin was as smooth as polished marble, and beneath it were slender muscles equally strong. Her quilt came to rest just above her bosom, which was full and firm, her pert breasts distinct beneath the quilt, raising and lowering it with each slow breath she drew in her sleep.
She was in peaceful slumber long after the morning began until a sunbeam managed to force it's way past the canopy, landing squarely on her eyelid. Unconsciously her brow furrowed, the strong light disrupting her blissful state, but not quite enough so to wake her.
Then came one of the cries. They were clearer at this extreme height in the city, the sound somehow drifting like rising smoke along the forest's canopy.
Even in her sleep, Nectar recognized it. The soothing wail flowed gently through the room like mist, far more subtle than the sharp presence of the sunbeam. It tickled the insides of Nectar's sleeping ears, bringing a languid smile to her lips, as she became conscious, wanting to be awake to listen to the brief song.
As the tune wafted through the chamber, she turned her head to the side, away from the intrusive light and slowly opened her eyes. As they gradually came into focus, they looked upon Nectar's most prized possession in all Norrath, and her smile grew even more.
Next to the bed was a sleeping mat, padded and covered in velvety fur. Wrapped in thick quilts and sleeping upon that mat was a beautiful wood-elf girl. She was on her side, facing towards Nectar, her lips parted in a slight "o", her breath very shallow. Her long blonde hair draped over her face like the finest veil, accentuating her delicate features, one long pointed ear protruding adorably from beneath her golden locks.
A few sunbeams struck her, one even landing on her nose, but having no effect whatsoever on her comatose state. Nectar stifled a laugh, looking at the quilt which the girl had flimsily tucked herself into, like a very fragile cocoon. Nectar began to lift away her own quilt when she felt the sting of the misty morning air. She quickly drew the covers about her again, the sudden warmth they afforded causing her almost to drift back into her own slumber. But her eyes never left the diminutive face of the wood-elf girl lying on the mat below her, and her beauty tipped the balance in favor of remaining awake.
With a deep breath, Nectar tossed aside her own blanket, bathing her own naked figure in the crisp morning air. Goosebumps immediately sprung upon every single inch of her exposed flesh. She gasped from the sharp coldness that surrounded her, her nipples quickly hardening into angry red nubs at the tips of each round breast. The sensation caused her to glance down to her bosom, and she smirked. It was the human in her, definitely… elves, while deliciously attractive, never had very large breasts. Half elves rarely did, but Nectar was a pleasant and unobtrusive exception, her chest full and alluring, just enough to be on par with some of the lovelier human dancers of Antonica.
Her body adjusted quickly to the cold, her strong warrior's frame accustomed to much harsher environments than a mere cool forest morning. Silently she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting upon the floor. As she moved, she felt a familiar sensation between her thighs, her bare nether lips wet and gliding against one another as she moved her legs. Her eyes fluttered and she involuntarily flexed her firm thighs together, feeling a brief ripple of pleasure arc through her body as she did. She opened her eyes again, smiling and oblivious to the cold as she stood over the wood elf girl.
"Well…" Nectar whispered to herself, "it hardly seems fair… the Mistress shivering in the cold while her Pet sleeps blissfully in warmth…"
With that, she reached down, grasping the edge of the blanket, and carefully tugging at it, untucking it from beneath the girl sleeping beneath it. The motions didn't disturb the slumbering figure in the least as Nectar repeated the procedure on the other side of the blanket. "Always sleeps like a log," Nectar thought to herself, grinning. With a final motion, she yanked the quilt down and away from the elf, tossing it across the room.
The girl sucked in a breath as the chill air assaulted her body all at once. She too was completely naked beneath the blanket, save for a studded-leather collar fastened snugly about her neck. Her body was firm and smooth, slender legs extending from tiny hips, bent slightly at the knees. Round, smooth buttocks beneath her long suntanned back, arms curled in front of her and over her petite, firm breasts. She was a statement in youthful, elven female perfection.
Nectar stood and gazed down at the gorgeous elf girl, breathing heavily as she watched her tremble in the cold, yet remain sleeping. She then turned and walked to her travelling pack, resting against her bedpost, reaching inside and producing a small wooden rod. It was a foot in length, an inch and a half wide, and polished as smooth as obsidian all over. She turned and looked to the cold elven girl, seeming to gasp in her sleep…
Peachis opened her eyes, looking about her in confusion. She must have stumbled… her body was freezing, inches deep in the snow of the Everfrost mountain pass. It was dark, so dark, but somehow she could still see the blue-white glow of the snow surrounding her. It was falling in large clumps, light as feathers but stinging cold. She struggled to her knees, reaching to pull her bearskin cloak around her small elven body; the one thing that had protected her from the cold throughout the night.
But it was gone… the cloak wasn't there! Glancing around in a panic, she tried to find it, figuring it to have slipped off in the wind when she stumbled into the snow. But it was nowhere to be found… finding a pure-white polar-bearskin cloak in the middle of the night during a snowstorm was not a feasible task, even for an elf with 20/20 infravision.
Beneath the cloak she wore virtually nothing… only her collar and a small green suit that barely covered her chest and bottom. She wrapped her arms about her body, trying to warm herself against the chill. "Help!!" she cried out desperately, but the words were drowned to no more than a whisper in the howling wind.
She stumbled forward against the shrill black wind, gaining only a few more steps before collapsing to her knees again, squinting her eyes shut. She tried to open them, finding her eyelids heavy against the darkness and the cold.
When she succeeded she saw… somebody approaching? Tall, dark silhouettes against the blue backdrop of the nighttime mountainsides. She cried out again, and in moments they were upon her.
Arms grasped her beneath her shoulders, and she felt herself lifted, only slightly, but somehow she was on her feet again, and heard deep, concerned voices.
"You allright, miss?"
"She looks like she's dazed… get her back to the camp."
"Right… miss? You'll be safe soon, doncha worry…"
Motion, she was sure of it, but she didn't know how, around her body and somehow moving her. When she regained her senses, she was standing near a makeshift tent, being hustled inside it.
Once inside, she was surrounded almost by complete darkness. But she heard their reassuring voices, and could sense their presences. Barbarians, she was sure of it. They were huge… nearly three feet taller than herself, had hardened muscular bodies that carried her, and deep voices, as heavy and sure as stone.
"Name's Gregor, miss. This here's Joe," one faceless voice murmured.
"A pleasure, miss. Dunno what you were doin' wanderin' around naked in the peaks at night. Sure way to freeze to death."
She looked towards Joe, and whispered, "Thank you… thank you so much…"
"We may freeze anyway," muttered Gregor. "No way we can build a fire in this storm, and it's already cold as a glacier in here,"
Peachis was suddenly aware of there nearness in the tent. She closed her eyes, not trying to see anymore, but allowing her hearing, her feeling, the sense of their warm breath near her guide her.
"We won't freeze," she whispered again. "I can keep us warm."
"Miss?" came Joe's voice, slightly confused. Peachis smiled in the darkness and extended her arms. Each hand came into contact with one of each Northerner's legs. They were strong, but bare. She felt the rough hair on each calf as she rested her palms against them, then gradually stroked upwards along each leg, coming to their leather kilts, then moving up further beneath them, thinking to herself that she was about to answer a question that had dwelled in her mind for ages, and hoping that the answer was what she expected. Beneath the kilts, they wore nothing. Her hands came to rest upon the manhood of each barbarian.
"Take me…" she whispered. "I will warm you both…"
With only a few languid strokes, she felt them grow hard at her touch. She briefly wondered why Barbarians never seemed to freeze in the arctic when they nothing beneath their kilts, but the thoughts were wiped from her mind as she suddenly felt their hands upon her. Big, strong hands, grasping her bare shoulders, their huge palms and fingers nearly covering her entire upper arms. She felt herself laid on her side.
A bearded face kissed her lips. She opened her mouth eagerly, feeling his strong tongue invading and dancing with her own delicate tongue. The hands on her shoulders glided down her body, the fingers catching beneath her green body suit and ripping it away from her. Two more hands immediately found and covered her tiny breasts, her already hardened nipples poking into their palms. They started moving in circles, rubbing and kneading her breasts, growing warm to the touch.
A warm hand slid down her leg and then back up along her inner thigh, strong fingers simultaneously rough and gentle on her skin. She gasped, parting her legs just slightly, as they moved along her tender flesh, finally coming to rest on her swollen, tender nether lips.
"Oh yes…" she sighed, feeling the strong touch, her wetness coating his fingers as they stroked firmly up and down her slit. The hands on her chest moved downward as well, gliding along the outside of her legs. The touches were hot as fire; wherever there were hands upon her, she felt warm, so very warm. Everywhere else was chilled, cold as ice. Yet this only stoked the passion inside her, making her crave their touch more.
She wanted to feel their bodies around her, she wanted to be encompassed by their heat.
"Touch me… more… please…" she gasped. Yet their hands were almost teasing… firm and strong on her body, yet she did not feel their bodies against her. The hands on her legs gently moved around to the front and slid between them, lifting her knee gently as the fingers stroking her lips glided backwards, moving along her bottom. She sensed the Barbarian in front of her (Gregor, was it? She couldn't quite remember…) drawing near.
Suddenly, she felt it pressing against her lips. His hardened c**k. He lifted her leg just slightly more, and suddenly, with a single thrust, entered her.
"AH!" she cried out. He was so huge, his c**k filling her delicate elven body completely. He was as hard as wood, and glided easily within her moistness. Tremors of pleasure rippled through her body.
At the same time, she finally felt the warm, nude body of the second Barbarian pressed up behind her. Joe's body nestled against her own, his warm chest finally covering her back, chasing away the chilling air. His thighs rested just beneath hers, warming her even more. His arm draped over her hip, holding her steady while Gregor rhythmically slid in and out of her, his thick c**k stretching her nether lips tight around it. "Yes… Yes…" she grunted with each of his thrusts. Behind her, she felt Joe's finger slide further back along her bottom, gently spreading her wetness along her tender flesh, pressing gently between her buttocks, into her tender hole.
"OH…. OH TUNARE!!!" she cried out as she felt Joe slide his finger gently inside her forbidden region. She felt so very filled by the both of them, and they moved in time now, in and out, in and out. Gregor's c**k from in front, Joe's finger from behind. It felt so perfect, her body was awash with sensations, the nipping cold still stinging her skin wherever and whenever it was uncovered, the fiery warmth of the two strong Barbarians around her, the wonderful sensations coming from her filled wetness and her behind. Her body shifted with each stroke, moving in time with each of their thrusts, over and over, the pleasure inside her building, and building…
Nectar moved her finger and the wooden rod in a perfect rhythm, her strong, muscled body cradled tightly behind Peachis on the fur-lined sleeping mat, their skin warm as fire wherever they touched and cool as stone wherever the air touched it. Peachis small elven body shook with pleasure as Nectar made love to her, one of Nectar's hands between their bodies, gently probing and thrusting into Peachis behind, while her other arm reached around and stroked the thick, polished wooden rod easily in and out of Peachis' wet womanhood.
They laid upon the floor for over an hour, Peachis still dreaming as Nectar stroked, caressed, and penetrated Peachis' beautiful, diminutive body. Finally, as the pressure built within her, Peachis opened her eyes, gazing up into Nectar's caring gaze. "Oh, Nectar…" she cooed as the half-elf woman's face swam into view through her dream, and with one final thrust of the rod, the love she felt mixed with the pleasure, and Peachis' body exploded with delight.
"AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… …ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh……"
Her voice rang out, musical, soft and ecstatic. It drifted along the canopy of the Faydark like rising smoke. It was musical, natural, blending with the calls of the owls and the howls of the wolves. A quiet, high pitched tune, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical.
An elf on the forest floor walking to Felwithe cocked his head to the side for a moment, smiled knowingly, and went about his business.
It was midnight in the Everfrost Peaks. The worst of the snowstorm was over, and Gregor and Joe were sleeping uncomfortably in their tents at opposite ends of the Everfrost region, both in their full armor in a futile attempt to better ward the cold away. Both opened their eyes a crack as an out-of-place cry echoed through the peaks around them, very distant, very faint, very feminine. The wakefulness was fleeting, and moments later they were once again asleep, soundly and each remained in a contented, warm slumber for the rest of the night.
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NickPSH
RealPoor Master of Posts
Joined: 11 Oct 2002
Posts: 5680
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 20:26 Post subject:
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| KapnKimchi wrote: | I prefer these stories. ^^
The morning in Kelethin was crisp as always. High in the treetops the temperature was much cooler than down on the forest floor. Sunshine speared it's way into the lofty wooden structures in narrow rays and sharp angles. Bird chirps and wolf cries filled the air in a gentle cacophony.
And occasionally, a mysterious song could be heard.
It took skill to hear it; you could only listen for it among the other sounds of nature if you knew precisely what you were listening for. Visitors to the vast Faydark never gave a second thought to the melodic wailing which seemed to whisper through the trees on occasion, the quiet cry never lasting much more than a minute or two, and always blending as though it were nothing more than the call of an owl, or the howl of a wolf.
But the Elves knew the sound… and when one of them listened carefully, paid very close attention, they would hear the infrequent melody. A quiet, high-pitched tune, different every time, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical. Then they would smile knowingly and go about their business.
One of the very highest structures in the city was an Inn. It had no actual name, and business there was infrequent. Many of the Wood Elves found their calling in hunting and adventure, rarely returning to town, and only visiting the lower merchants near the lifts when they did. It was small… in fact, it had only one room. These things would normally mean that it was a relatively unsuccessful establishment. Fortunately, it also had two regulars.
The owner of the Inn often left the building when they were there, knowing them to be trustworthy patrons, and also good self-sufficient business. They rarely required anything of the Innkeeper other than the room itself. As such, the only ones in the Inn this morning were those two patrons.
On a bed near a window slept one, a half-elven warrior who called herself Nectar. Her short, sandy blonde hair was clipped evenly about her head, giving a somewhat tomboyish look to her visage. Other than that, however, every bit of her was as feminine as could be. Her pale skin was as smooth as polished marble, and beneath it were slender muscles equally strong. Her quilt came to rest just above her bosom, which was full and firm, her pert breasts distinct beneath the quilt, raising and lowering it with each slow breath she drew in her sleep.
She was in peaceful slumber long after the morning began until a sunbeam managed to force it's way past the canopy, landing squarely on her eyelid. Unconsciously her brow furrowed, the strong light disrupting her blissful state, but not quite enough so to wake her.
Then came one of the cries. They were clearer at this extreme height in the city, the sound somehow drifting like rising smoke along the forest's canopy.
Even in her sleep, Nectar recognized it. The soothing wail flowed gently through the room like mist, far more subtle than the sharp presence of the sunbeam. It tickled the insides of Nectar's sleeping ears, bringing a languid smile to her lips, as she became conscious, wanting to be awake to listen to the brief song.
As the tune wafted through the chamber, she turned her head to the side, away from the intrusive light and slowly opened her eyes. As they gradually came into focus, they looked upon Nectar's most prized possession in all Norrath, and her smile grew even more.
Next to the bed was a sleeping mat, padded and covered in velvety fur. Wrapped in thick quilts and sleeping upon that mat was a beautiful wood-elf girl. She was on her side, facing towards Nectar, her lips parted in a slight "o", her breath very shallow. Her long blonde hair draped over her face like the finest veil, accentuating her delicate features, one long pointed ear protruding adorably from beneath her golden locks.
A few sunbeams struck her, one even landing on her nose, but having no effect whatsoever on her comatose state. Nectar stifled a laugh, looking at the quilt which the girl had flimsily tucked herself into, like a very fragile cocoon. Nectar began to lift away her own quilt when she felt the sting of the misty morning air. She quickly drew the covers about her again, the sudden warmth they afforded causing her almost to drift back into her own slumber. But her eyes never left the diminutive face of the wood-elf girl lying on the mat below her, and her beauty tipped the balance in favor of remaining awake.
With a deep breath, Nectar tossed aside her own blanket, bathing her own naked figure in the crisp morning air. Goosebumps immediately sprung upon every single inch of her exposed flesh. She gasped from the sharp coldness that surrounded her, her nipples quickly hardening into angry red nubs at the tips of each round breast. The sensation caused her to glance down to her bosom, and she smirked. It was the human in her, definitely… elves, while deliciously attractive, never had very large breasts. Half elves rarely did, but Nectar was a pleasant and unobtrusive exception, her chest full and alluring, just enough to be on par with some of the lovelier human dancers of Antonica.
Her body adjusted quickly to the cold, her strong warrior's frame accustomed to much harsher environments than a mere cool forest morning. Silently she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting upon the floor. As she moved, she felt a familiar sensation between her thighs, her bare nether lips wet and gliding against one another as she moved her legs. Her eyes fluttered and she involuntarily flexed her firm thighs together, feeling a brief ripple of pleasure arc through her body as she did. She opened her eyes again, smiling and oblivious to the cold as she stood over the wood elf girl.
"Well…" Nectar whispered to herself, "it hardly seems fair… the Mistress shivering in the cold while her Pet sleeps blissfully in warmth…"
With that, she reached down, grasping the edge of the blanket, and carefully tugging at it, untucking it from beneath the girl sleeping beneath it. The motions didn't disturb the slumbering figure in the least as Nectar repeated the procedure on the other side of the blanket. "Always sleeps like a log," Nectar thought to herself, grinning. With a final motion, she yanked the quilt down and away from the elf, tossing it across the room.
The girl sucked in a breath as the chill air assaulted her body all at once. She too was completely naked beneath the blanket, save for a studded-leather collar fastened snugly about her neck. Her body was firm and smooth, slender legs extending from tiny hips, bent slightly at the knees. Round, smooth buttocks beneath her long suntanned back, arms curled in front of her and over her petite, firm breasts. She was a statement in youthful, elven female perfection.
Nectar stood and gazed down at the gorgeous elf girl, breathing heavily as she watched her tremble in the cold, yet remain sleeping. She then turned and walked to her travelling pack, resting against her bedpost, reaching inside and producing a small wooden rod. It was a foot in length, an inch and a half wide, and polished as smooth as obsidian all over. She turned and looked to the cold elven girl, seeming to gasp in her sleep…
Peachis opened her eyes, looking about her in confusion. She must have stumbled… her body was freezing, inches deep in the snow of the Everfrost mountain pass. It was dark, so dark, but somehow she could still see the blue-white glow of the snow surrounding her. It was falling in large clumps, light as feathers but stinging cold. She struggled to her knees, reaching to pull her bearskin cloak around her small elven body; the one thing that had protected her from the cold throughout the night.
But it was gone… the cloak wasn't there! Glancing around in a panic, she tried to find it, figuring it to have slipped off in the wind when she stumbled into the snow. But it was nowhere to be found… finding a pure-white polar-bearskin cloak in the middle of the night during a snowstorm was not a feasible task, even for an elf with 20/20 infravision.
Beneath the cloak she wore virtually nothing… only her collar and a small green suit that barely covered her chest and bottom. She wrapped her arms about her body, trying to warm herself against the chill. "Help!!" she cried out desperately, but the words were drowned to no more than a whisper in the howling wind.
She stumbled forward against the shrill black wind, gaining only a few more steps before collapsing to her knees again, squinting her eyes shut. She tried to open them, finding her eyelids heavy against the darkness and the cold.
When she succeeded she saw… somebody approaching? Tall, dark silhouettes against the blue backdrop of the nighttime mountainsides. She cried out again, and in moments they were upon her.
Arms grasped her beneath her shoulders, and she felt herself lifted, only slightly, but somehow she was on her feet again, and heard deep, concerned voices.
"You allright, miss?"
"She looks like she's dazed… get her back to the camp."
"Right… miss? You'll be safe soon, doncha worry…"
Motion, she was sure of it, but she didn't know how, around her body and somehow moving her. When she regained her senses, she was standing near a makeshift tent, being hustled inside it.
Once inside, she was surrounded almost by complete darkness. But she heard their reassuring voices, and could sense their presences. Barbarians, she was sure of it. They were huge… nearly three feet taller than herself, had hardened muscular bodies that carried her, and deep voices, as heavy and sure as stone.
"Name's Gregor, miss. This here's Joe," one faceless voice murmured.
"A pleasure, miss. Dunno what you were doin' wanderin' around naked in the peaks at night. Sure way to freeze to death."
She looked towards Joe, and whispered, "Thank you… thank you so much…"
"We may freeze anyway," muttered Gregor. "No way we can build a fire in this storm, and it's already cold as a glacier in here,"
Peachis was suddenly aware of there nearness in the tent. She closed her eyes, not trying to see anymore, but allowing her hearing, her feeling, the sense of their warm breath near her guide her.
"We won't freeze," she whispered again. "I can keep us warm."
"Miss?" came Joe's voice, slightly confused. Peachis smiled in the darkness and extended her arms. Each hand came into contact with one of each Northerner's legs. They were strong, but bare. She felt the rough hair on each calf as she rested her palms against them, then gradually stroked upwards along each leg, coming to their leather kilts, then moving up further beneath them, thinking to herself that she was about to answer a question that had dwelled in her mind for ages, and hoping that the answer was what she expected. Beneath the kilts, they wore nothing. Her hands came to rest upon the manhood of each barbarian.
"Take me…" she whispered. "I will warm you both…"
With only a few languid strokes, she felt them grow hard at her touch. She briefly wondered why Barbarians never seemed to freeze in the arctic when they nothing beneath their kilts, but the thoughts were wiped from her mind as she suddenly felt their hands upon her. Big, strong hands, grasping her bare shoulders, their huge palms and fingers nearly covering her entire upper arms. She felt herself laid on her side.
A bearded face kissed her lips. She opened her mouth eagerly, feeling his strong tongue invading and dancing with her own delicate tongue. The hands on her shoulders glided down her body, the fingers catching beneath her green body suit and ripping it away from her. Two more hands immediately found and covered her tiny breasts, her already hardened nipples poking into their palms. They started moving in circles, rubbing and kneading her breasts, growing warm to the touch.
A warm hand slid down her leg and then back up along her inner thigh, strong fingers simultaneously rough and gentle on her skin. She gasped, parting her legs just slightly, as they moved along her tender flesh, finally coming to rest on her swollen, tender nether lips.
"Oh yes…" she sighed, feeling the strong touch, her wetness coating his fingers as they stroked firmly up and down her slit. The hands on her chest moved downward as well, gliding along the outside of her legs. The touches were hot as fire; wherever there were hands upon her, she felt warm, so very warm. Everywhere else was chilled, cold as ice. Yet this only stoked the passion inside her, making her crave their touch more.
She wanted to feel their bodies around her, she wanted to be encompassed by their heat.
"Touch me… more… please…" she gasped. Yet their hands were almost teasing… firm and strong on her body, yet she did not feel their bodies against her. The hands on her legs gently moved around to the front and slid between them, lifting her knee gently as the fingers stroking her lips glided backwards, moving along her bottom. She sensed the Barbarian in front of her (Gregor, was it? She couldn't quite remember…) drawing near.
Suddenly, she felt it pressing against her lips. His hardened c**k. He lifted her leg just slightly more, and suddenly, with a single thrust, entered her.
"AH!" she cried out. He was so huge, his c**k filling her delicate elven body completely. He was as hard as wood, and glided easily within her moistness. Tremors of pleasure rippled through her body.
At the same time, she finally felt the warm, nude body of the second Barbarian pressed up behind her. Joe's body nestled against her own, his warm chest finally covering her back, chasing away the chilling air. His thighs rested just beneath hers, warming her even more. His arm draped over her hip, holding her steady while Gregor rhythmically slid in and out of her, his thick c**k stretching her nether lips tight around it. "Yes… Yes…" she grunted with each of his thrusts. Behind her, she felt Joe's finger slide further back along her bottom, gently spreading her wetness along her tender flesh, pressing gently between her buttocks, into her tender hole.
"OH…. OH TUNARE!!!" she cried out as she felt Joe slide his finger gently inside her forbidden region. She felt so very filled by the both of them, and they moved in time now, in and out, in and out. Gregor's c**k from in front, Joe's finger from behind. It felt so perfect, her body was awash with sensations, the nipping cold still stinging her skin wherever and whenever it was uncovered, the fiery warmth of the two strong Barbarians around her, the wonderful sensations coming from her filled wetness and her behind. Her body shifted with each stroke, moving in time with each of their thrusts, over and over, the pleasure inside her building, and building…
Nectar moved her finger and the wooden rod in a perfect rhythm, her strong, muscled body cradled tightly behind Peachis on the fur-lined sleeping mat, their skin warm as fire wherever they touched and cool as stone wherever the air touched it. Peachis small elven body shook with pleasure as Nectar made love to her, one of Nectar's hands between their bodies, gently probing and thrusting into Peachis behind, while her other arm reached around and stroked the thick, polished wooden rod easily in and out of Peachis' wet womanhood.
They laid upon the floor for over an hour, Peachis still dreaming as Nectar stroked, caressed, and penetrated Peachis' beautiful, diminutive body. Finally, as the pressure built within her, Peachis opened her eyes, gazing up into Nectar's caring gaze. "Oh, Nectar…" she cooed as the half-elf woman's face swam into view through her dream, and with one final thrust of the rod, the love she felt mixed with the pleasure, and Peachis' body exploded with delight.
"AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… …ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh……"
Her voice rang out, musical, soft and ecstatic. It drifted along the canopy of the Faydark like rising smoke. It was musical, natural, blending with the calls of the owls and the howls of the wolves. A quiet, high pitched tune, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical.
An elf on the forest floor walking to Felwithe cocked his head to the side for a moment, smiled knowingly, and went about his business.
It was midnight in the Everfrost Peaks. The worst of the snowstorm was over, and Gregor and Joe were sleeping uncomfortably in their tents at opposite ends of the Everfrost region, both in their full armor in a futile attempt to better ward the cold away. Both opened their eyes a crack as an out-of-place cry echoed through the peaks around them, very distant, very faint, very feminine. The wakefulness was fleeting, and moments later they were once again asleep, soundly and each remained in a contented, warm slumber for the rest of the night. |
You're going to give Silvermouse a b***r haha
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Syke
RealPoor Guru
Joined: 12 Oct 2002
Posts: 2976
Location: Huntington Beach, CA
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 20:34 Post subject:
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that was hot...
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Pags
RealPoor Guru
Joined: 11 Oct 2002
Posts: 3260
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Posted: 01/23/04 - 23:03 Post subject:
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Seems like it would have been easier to farm another staff.
Funny story though ;)
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WhiteWidow
Guest
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Posted: 01/24/04 - 00:21 Post subject:
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| Tizitchy Tinkergnome wrote: | | KapnKimchi wrote: | I prefer these stories. ^^
The morning in Kelethin was crisp as always. High in the treetops the temperature was much cooler than down on the forest floor. Sunshine speared it's way into the lofty wooden structures in narrow rays and sharp angles. Bird chirps and wolf cries filled the air in a gentle cacophony.
And occasionally, a mysterious song could be heard.
It took skill to hear it; you could only listen for it among the other sounds of nature if you knew precisely what you were listening for. Visitors to the vast Faydark never gave a second thought to the melodic wailing which seemed to whisper through the trees on occasion, the quiet cry never lasting much more than a minute or two, and always blending as though it were nothing more than the call of an owl, or the howl of a wolf.
But the Elves knew the sound… and when one of them listened carefully, paid very close attention, they would hear the infrequent melody. A quiet, high-pitched tune, different every time, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical. Then they would smile knowingly and go about their business.
One of the very highest structures in the city was an Inn. It had no actual name, and business there was infrequent. Many of the Wood Elves found their calling in hunting and adventure, rarely returning to town, and only visiting the lower merchants near the lifts when they did. It was small… in fact, it had only one room. These things would normally mean that it was a relatively unsuccessful establishment. Fortunately, it also had two regulars.
The owner of the Inn often left the building when they were there, knowing them to be trustworthy patrons, and also good self-sufficient business. They rarely required anything of the Innkeeper other than the room itself. As such, the only ones in the Inn this morning were those two patrons.
On a bed near a window slept one, a half-elven warrior who called herself Nectar. Her short, sandy blonde hair was clipped evenly about her head, giving a somewhat tomboyish look to her visage. Other than that, however, every bit of her was as feminine as could be. Her pale skin was as smooth as polished marble, and beneath it were slender muscles equally strong. Her quilt came to rest just above her bosom, which was full and firm, her pert breasts distinct beneath the quilt, raising and lowering it with each slow breath she drew in her sleep.
She was in peaceful slumber long after the morning began until a sunbeam managed to force it's way past the canopy, landing squarely on her eyelid. Unconsciously her brow furrowed, the strong light disrupting her blissful state, but not quite enough so to wake her.
Then came one of the cries. They were clearer at this extreme height in the city, the sound somehow drifting like rising smoke along the forest's canopy.
Even in her sleep, Nectar recognized it. The soothing wail flowed gently through the room like mist, far more subtle than the sharp presence of the sunbeam. It tickled the insides of Nectar's sleeping ears, bringing a languid smile to her lips, as she became conscious, wanting to be awake to listen to the brief song.
As the tune wafted through the chamber, she turned her head to the side, away from the intrusive light and slowly opened her eyes. As they gradually came into focus, they looked upon Nectar's most prized possession in all Norrath, and her smile grew even more.
Next to the bed was a sleeping mat, padded and covered in velvety fur. Wrapped in thick quilts and sleeping upon that mat was a beautiful wood-elf girl. She was on her side, facing towards Nectar, her lips parted in a slight "o", her breath very shallow. Her long blonde hair draped over her face like the finest veil, accentuating her delicate features, one long pointed ear protruding adorably from beneath her golden locks.
A few sunbeams struck her, one even landing on her nose, but having no effect whatsoever on her comatose state. Nectar stifled a laugh, looking at the quilt which the girl had flimsily tucked herself into, like a very fragile cocoon. Nectar began to lift away her own quilt when she felt the sting of the misty morning air. She quickly drew the covers about her again, the sudden warmth they afforded causing her almost to drift back into her own slumber. But her eyes never left the diminutive face of the wood-elf girl lying on the mat below her, and her beauty tipped the balance in favor of remaining awake.
With a deep breath, Nectar tossed aside her own blanket, bathing her own naked figure in the crisp morning air. Goosebumps immediately sprung upon every single inch of her exposed flesh. She gasped from the sharp coldness that surrounded her, her nipples quickly hardening into angry red nubs at the tips of each round breast. The sensation caused her to glance down to her bosom, and she smirked. It was the human in her, definitely… elves, while deliciously attractive, never had very large breasts. Half elves rarely did, but Nectar was a pleasant and unobtrusive exception, her chest full and alluring, just enough to be on par with some of the lovelier human dancers of Antonica.
Her body adjusted quickly to the cold, her strong warrior's frame accustomed to much harsher environments than a mere cool forest morning. Silently she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting upon the floor. As she moved, she felt a familiar sensation between her thighs, her bare nether lips wet and gliding against one another as she moved her legs. Her eyes fluttered and she involuntarily flexed her firm thighs together, feeling a brief ripple of pleasure arc through her body as she did. She opened her eyes again, smiling and oblivious to the cold as she stood over the wood elf girl.
"Well…" Nectar whispered to herself, "it hardly seems fair… the Mistress shivering in the cold while her Pet sleeps blissfully in warmth…"
With that, she reached down, grasping the edge of the blanket, and carefully tugging at it, untucking it from beneath the girl sleeping beneath it. The motions didn't disturb the slumbering figure in the least as Nectar repeated the procedure on the other side of the blanket. "Always sleeps like a log," Nectar thought to herself, grinning. With a final motion, she yanked the quilt down and away from the elf, tossing it across the room.
The girl sucked in a breath as the chill air assaulted her body all at once. She too was completely naked beneath the blanket, save for a studded-leather collar fastened snugly about her neck. Her body was firm and smooth, slender legs extending from tiny hips, bent slightly at the knees. Round, smooth buttocks beneath her long suntanned back, arms curled in front of her and over her petite, firm breasts. She was a statement in youthful, elven female perfection.
Nectar stood and gazed down at the gorgeous elf girl, breathing heavily as she watched her tremble in the cold, yet remain sleeping. She then turned and walked to her travelling pack, resting against her bedpost, reaching inside and producing a small wooden rod. It was a foot in length, an inch and a half wide, and polished as smooth as obsidian all over. She turned and looked to the cold elven girl, seeming to gasp in her sleep…
Peachis opened her eyes, looking about her in confusion. She must have stumbled… her body was freezing, inches deep in the snow of the Everfrost mountain pass. It was dark, so dark, but somehow she could still see the blue-white glow of the snow surrounding her. It was falling in large clumps, light as feathers but stinging cold. She struggled to her knees, reaching to pull her bearskin cloak around her small elven body; the one thing that had protected her from the cold throughout the night.
But it was gone… the cloak wasn't there! Glancing around in a panic, she tried to find it, figuring it to have slipped off in the wind when she stumbled into the snow. But it was nowhere to be found… finding a pure-white polar-bearskin cloak in the middle of the night during a snowstorm was not a feasible task, even for an elf with 20/20 infravision.
Beneath the cloak she wore virtually nothing… only her collar and a small green suit that barely covered her chest and bottom. She wrapped her arms about her body, trying to warm herself against the chill. "Help!!" she cried out desperately, but the words were drowned to no more than a whisper in the howling wind.
She stumbled forward against the shrill black wind, gaining only a few more steps before collapsing to her knees again, squinting her eyes shut. She tried to open them, finding her eyelids heavy against the darkness and the cold.
When she succeeded she saw… somebody approaching? Tall, dark silhouettes against the blue backdrop of the nighttime mountainsides. She cried out again, and in moments they were upon her.
Arms grasped her beneath her shoulders, and she felt herself lifted, only slightly, but somehow she was on her feet again, and heard deep, concerned voices.
"You allright, miss?"
"She looks like she's dazed… get her back to the camp."
"Right… miss? You'll be safe soon, doncha worry…"
Motion, she was sure of it, but she didn't know how, around her body and somehow moving her. When she regained her senses, she was standing near a makeshift tent, being hustled inside it.
Once inside, she was surrounded almost by complete darkness. But she heard their reassuring voices, and could sense their presences. Barbarians, she was sure of it. They were huge… nearly three feet taller than herself, had hardened muscular bodies that carried her, and deep voices, as heavy and sure as stone.
"Name's Gregor, miss. This here's Joe," one faceless voice murmured.
"A pleasure, miss. Dunno what you were doin' wanderin' around naked in the peaks at night. Sure way to freeze to death."
She looked towards Joe, and whispered, "Thank you… thank you so much…"
"We may freeze anyway," muttered Gregor. "No way we can build a fire in this storm, and it's already cold as a glacier in here,"
Peachis was suddenly aware of there nearness in the tent. She closed her eyes, not trying to see anymore, but allowing her hearing, her feeling, the sense of their warm breath near her guide her.
"We won't freeze," she whispered again. "I can keep us warm."
"Miss?" came Joe's voice, slightly confused. Peachis smiled in the darkness and extended her arms. Each hand came into contact with one of each Northerner's legs. They were strong, but bare. She felt the rough hair on each calf as she rested her palms against them, then gradually stroked upwards along each leg, coming to their leather kilts, then moving up further beneath them, thinking to herself that she was about to answer a question that had dwelled in her mind for ages, and hoping that the answer was what she expected. Beneath the kilts, they wore nothing. Her hands came to rest upon the manhood of each barbarian.
"Take me…" she whispered. "I will warm you both…"
With only a few languid strokes, she felt them grow hard at her touch. She briefly wondered why Barbarians never seemed to freeze in the arctic when they nothing beneath their kilts, but the thoughts were wiped from her mind as she suddenly felt their hands upon her. Big, strong hands, grasping her bare shoulders, their huge palms and fingers nearly covering her entire upper arms. She felt herself laid on her side.
A bearded face kissed her lips. She opened her mouth eagerly, feeling his strong tongue invading and dancing with her own delicate tongue. The hands on her shoulders glided down her body, the fingers catching beneath her green body suit and ripping it away from her. Two more hands immediately found and covered her tiny breasts, her already hardened nipples poking into their palms. They started moving in circles, rubbing and kneading her breasts, growing warm to the touch.
A warm hand slid down her leg and then back up along her inner thigh, strong fingers simultaneously rough and gentle on her skin. She gasped, parting her legs just slightly, as they moved along her tender flesh, finally coming to rest on her swollen, tender nether lips.
"Oh yes…" she sighed, feeling the strong touch, her wetness coating his fingers as they stroked firmly up and down her slit. The hands on her chest moved downward as well, gliding along the outside of her legs. The touches were hot as fire; wherever there were hands upon her, she felt warm, so very warm. Everywhere else was chilled, cold as ice. Yet this only stoked the passion inside her, making her crave their touch more.
She wanted to feel their bodies around her, she wanted to be encompassed by their heat.
"Touch me… more… please…" she gasped. Yet their hands were almost teasing… firm and strong on her body, yet she did not feel their bodies against her. The hands on her legs gently moved around to the front and slid between them, lifting her knee gently as the fingers stroking her lips glided backwards, moving along her bottom. She sensed the Barbarian in front of her (Gregor, was it? She couldn't quite remember…) drawing near.
Suddenly, she felt it pressing against her lips. His hardened c**k. He lifted her leg just slightly more, and suddenly, with a single thrust, entered her.
"AH!" she cried out. He was so huge, his c**k filling her delicate elven body completely. He was as hard as wood, and glided easily within her moistness. Tremors of pleasure rippled through her body.
At the same time, she finally felt the warm, nude body of the second Barbarian pressed up behind her. Joe's body nestled against her own, his warm chest finally covering her back, chasing away the chilling air. His thighs rested just beneath hers, warming her even more. His arm draped over her hip, holding her steady while Gregor rhythmically slid in and out of her, his thick c**k stretching her nether lips tight around it. "Yes… Yes…" she grunted with each of his thrusts. Behind her, she felt Joe's finger slide further back along her bottom, gently spreading her wetness along her tender flesh, pressing gently between her buttocks, into her tender hole.
"OH…. OH TUNARE!!!" she cried out as she felt Joe slide his finger gently inside her forbidden region. She felt so very filled by the both of them, and they moved in time now, in and out, in and out. Gregor's c**k from in front, Joe's finger from behind. It felt so perfect, her body was awash with sensations, the nipping cold still stinging her skin wherever and whenever it was uncovered, the fiery warmth of the two strong Barbarians around her, the wonderful sensations coming from her filled wetness and her behind. Her body shifted with each stroke, moving in time with each of their thrusts, over and over, the pleasure inside her building, and building…
Nectar moved her finger and the wooden rod in a perfect rhythm, her strong, muscled body cradled tightly behind Peachis on the fur-lined sleeping mat, their skin warm as fire wherever they touched and cool as stone wherever the air touched it. Peachis small elven body shook with pleasure as Nectar made love to her, one of Nectar's hands between their bodies, gently probing and thrusting into Peachis behind, while her other arm reached around and stroked the thick, polished wooden rod easily in and out of Peachis' wet womanhood.
They laid upon the floor for over an hour, Peachis still dreaming as Nectar stroked, caressed, and penetrated Peachis' beautiful, diminutive body. Finally, as the pressure built within her, Peachis opened her eyes, gazing up into Nectar's caring gaze. "Oh, Nectar…" she cooed as the half-elf woman's face swam into view through her dream, and with one final thrust of the rod, the love she felt mixed with the pleasure, and Peachis' body exploded with delight.
"AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… …ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh……"
Her voice rang out, musical, soft and ecstatic. It drifted along the canopy of the Faydark like rising smoke. It was musical, natural, blending with the calls of the owls and the howls of the wolves. A quiet, high pitched tune, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical.
An elf on the forest floor walking to Felwithe cocked his head to the side for a moment, smiled knowingly, and went about his business.
It was midnight in the Everfrost Peaks. The worst of the snowstorm was over, and Gregor and Joe were sleeping uncomfortably in their tents at opposite ends of the Everfrost region, both in their full armor in a futile attempt to better ward the cold away. Both opened their eyes a crack as an out-of-place cry echoed through the peaks around them, very distant, very faint, very feminine. The wakefulness was fleeting, and moments later they were once again asleep, soundly and each remained in a contented, warm slumber for the rest of the night. |
You're going to give Silvermouse a b***r haha |
you idiots dont need to quote shit that takes 10 minutes to scroll through.
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Tolanin
RealPoor Guru
Joined: 16 Oct 2002
Posts: 3551
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Posted: 01/24/04 - 00:42 Post subject:
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| WhiteWidow wrote: | | Tizitchy Tinkergnome wrote: | | KapnKimchi wrote: | I prefer these stories. ^^
The morning in Kelethin was crisp as always. High in the treetops the temperature was much cooler than down on the forest floor. Sunshine speared it's way into the lofty wooden structures in narrow rays and sharp angles. Bird chirps and wolf cries filled the air in a gentle cacophony.
And occasionally, a mysterious song could be heard.
It took skill to hear it; you could only listen for it among the other sounds of nature if you knew precisely what you were listening for. Visitors to the vast Faydark never gave a second thought to the melodic wailing which seemed to whisper through the trees on occasion, the quiet cry never lasting much more than a minute or two, and always blending as though it were nothing more than the call of an owl, or the howl of a wolf.
But the Elves knew the sound… and when one of them listened carefully, paid very close attention, they would hear the infrequent melody. A quiet, high-pitched tune, different every time, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical. Then they would smile knowingly and go about their business.
One of the very highest structures in the city was an Inn. It had no actual name, and business there was infrequent. Many of the Wood Elves found their calling in hunting and adventure, rarely returning to town, and only visiting the lower merchants near the lifts when they did. It was small… in fact, it had only one room. These things would normally mean that it was a relatively unsuccessful establishment. Fortunately, it also had two regulars.
The owner of the Inn often left the building when they were there, knowing them to be trustworthy patrons, and also good self-sufficient business. They rarely required anything of the Innkeeper other than the room itself. As such, the only ones in the Inn this morning were those two patrons.
On a bed near a window slept one, a half-elven warrior who called herself Nectar. Her short, sandy blonde hair was clipped evenly about her head, giving a somewhat tomboyish look to her visage. Other than that, however, every bit of her was as feminine as could be. Her pale skin was as smooth as polished marble, and beneath it were slender muscles equally strong. Her quilt came to rest just above her bosom, which was full and firm, her pert breasts distinct beneath the quilt, raising and lowering it with each slow breath she drew in her sleep.
She was in peaceful slumber long after the morning began until a sunbeam managed to force it's way past the canopy, landing squarely on her eyelid. Unconsciously her brow furrowed, the strong light disrupting her blissful state, but not quite enough so to wake her.
Then came one of the cries. They were clearer at this extreme height in the city, the sound somehow drifting like rising smoke along the forest's canopy.
Even in her sleep, Nectar recognized it. The soothing wail flowed gently through the room like mist, far more subtle than the sharp presence of the sunbeam. It tickled the insides of Nectar's sleeping ears, bringing a languid smile to her lips, as she became conscious, wanting to be awake to listen to the brief song.
As the tune wafted through the chamber, she turned her head to the side, away from the intrusive light and slowly opened her eyes. As they gradually came into focus, they looked upon Nectar's most prized possession in all Norrath, and her smile grew even more.
Next to the bed was a sleeping mat, padded and covered in velvety fur. Wrapped in thick quilts and sleeping upon that mat was a beautiful wood-elf girl. She was on her side, facing towards Nectar, her lips parted in a slight "o", her breath very shallow. Her long blonde hair draped over her face like the finest veil, accentuating her delicate features, one long pointed ear protruding adorably from beneath her golden locks.
A few sunbeams struck her, one even landing on her nose, but having no effect whatsoever on her comatose state. Nectar stifled a laugh, looking at the quilt which the girl had flimsily tucked herself into, like a very fragile cocoon. Nectar began to lift away her own quilt when she felt the sting of the misty morning air. She quickly drew the covers about her again, the sudden warmth they afforded causing her almost to drift back into her own slumber. But her eyes never left the diminutive face of the wood-elf girl lying on the mat below her, and her beauty tipped the balance in favor of remaining awake.
With a deep breath, Nectar tossed aside her own blanket, bathing her own naked figure in the crisp morning air. Goosebumps immediately sprung upon every single inch of her exposed flesh. She gasped from the sharp coldness that surrounded her, her nipples quickly hardening into angry red nubs at the tips of each round breast. The sensation caused her to glance down to her bosom, and she smirked. It was the human in her, definitely… elves, while deliciously attractive, never had very large breasts. Half elves rarely did, but Nectar was a pleasant and unobtrusive exception, her chest full and alluring, just enough to be on par with some of the lovelier human dancers of Antonica.
Her body adjusted quickly to the cold, her strong warrior's frame accustomed to much harsher environments than a mere cool forest morning. Silently she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting upon the floor. As she moved, she felt a familiar sensation between her thighs, her bare nether lips wet and gliding against one another as she moved her legs. Her eyes fluttered and she involuntarily flexed her firm thighs together, feeling a brief ripple of pleasure arc through her body as she did. She opened her eyes again, smiling and oblivious to the cold as she stood over the wood elf girl.
"Well…" Nectar whispered to herself, "it hardly seems fair… the Mistress shivering in the cold while her Pet sleeps blissfully in warmth…"
With that, she reached down, grasping the edge of the blanket, and carefully tugging at it, untucking it from beneath the girl sleeping beneath it. The motions didn't disturb the slumbering figure in the least as Nectar repeated the procedure on the other side of the blanket. "Always sleeps like a log," Nectar thought to herself, grinning. With a final motion, she yanked the quilt down and away from the elf, tossing it across the room.
The girl sucked in a breath as the chill air assaulted her body all at once. She too was completely naked beneath the blanket, save for a studded-leather collar fastened snugly about her neck. Her body was firm and smooth, slender legs extending from tiny hips, bent slightly at the knees. Round, smooth buttocks beneath her long suntanned back, arms curled in front of her and over her petite, firm breasts. She was a statement in youthful, elven female perfection.
Nectar stood and gazed down at the gorgeous elf girl, breathing heavily as she watched her tremble in the cold, yet remain sleeping. She then turned and walked to her travelling pack, resting against her bedpost, reaching inside and producing a small wooden rod. It was a foot in length, an inch and a half wide, and polished as smooth as obsidian all over. She turned and looked to the cold elven girl, seeming to gasp in her sleep…
Peachis opened her eyes, looking about her in confusion. She must have stumbled… her body was freezing, inches deep in the snow of the Everfrost mountain pass. It was dark, so dark, but somehow she could still see the blue-white glow of the snow surrounding her. It was falling in large clumps, light as feathers but stinging cold. She struggled to her knees, reaching to pull her bearskin cloak around her small elven body; the one thing that had protected her from the cold throughout the night.
But it was gone… the cloak wasn't there! Glancing around in a panic, she tried to find it, figuring it to have slipped off in the wind when she stumbled into the snow. But it was nowhere to be found… finding a pure-white polar-bearskin cloak in the middle of the night during a snowstorm was not a feasible task, even for an elf with 20/20 infravision.
Beneath the cloak she wore virtually nothing… only her collar and a small green suit that barely covered her chest and bottom. She wrapped her arms about her body, trying to warm herself against the chill. "Help!!" she cried out desperately, but the words were drowned to no more than a whisper in the howling wind.
She stumbled forward against the shrill black wind, gaining only a few more steps before collapsing to her knees again, squinting her eyes shut. She tried to open them, finding her eyelids heavy against the darkness and the cold.
When she succeeded she saw… somebody approaching? Tall, dark silhouettes against the blue backdrop of the nighttime mountainsides. She cried out again, and in moments they were upon her.
Arms grasped her beneath her shoulders, and she felt herself lifted, only slightly, but somehow she was on her feet again, and heard deep, concerned voices.
"You allright, miss?"
"She looks like she's dazed… get her back to the camp."
"Right… miss? You'll be safe soon, doncha worry…"
Motion, she was sure of it, but she didn't know how, around her body and somehow moving her. When she regained her senses, she was standing near a makeshift tent, being hustled inside it.
Once inside, she was surrounded almost by complete darkness. But she heard their reassuring voices, and could sense their presences. Barbarians, she was sure of it. They were huge… nearly three feet taller than herself, had hardened muscular bodies that carried her, and deep voices, as heavy and sure as stone.
"Name's Gregor, miss. This here's Joe," one faceless voice murmured.
"A pleasure, miss. Dunno what you were doin' wanderin' around naked in the peaks at night. Sure way to freeze to death."
She looked towards Joe, and whispered, "Thank you… thank you so much…"
"We may freeze anyway," muttered Gregor. "No way we can build a fire in this storm, and it's already cold as a glacier in here,"
Peachis was suddenly aware of there nearness in the tent. She closed her eyes, not trying to see anymore, but allowing her hearing, her feeling, the sense of their warm breath near her guide her.
"We won't freeze," she whispered again. "I can keep us warm."
"Miss?" came Joe's voice, slightly confused. Peachis smiled in the darkness and extended her arms. Each hand came into contact with one of each Northerner's legs. They were strong, but bare. She felt the rough hair on each calf as she rested her palms against them, then gradually stroked upwards along each leg, coming to their leather kilts, then moving up further beneath them, thinking to herself that she was about to answer a question that had dwelled in her mind for ages, and hoping that the answer was what she expected. Beneath the kilts, they wore nothing. Her hands came to rest upon the manhood of each barbarian.
"Take me…" she whispered. "I will warm you both…"
With only a few languid strokes, she felt them grow hard at her touch. She briefly wondered why Barbarians never seemed to freeze in the arctic when they nothing beneath their kilts, but the thoughts were wiped from her mind as she suddenly felt their hands upon her. Big, strong hands, grasping her bare shoulders, their huge palms and fingers nearly covering her entire upper arms. She felt herself laid on her side.
A bearded face kissed her lips. She opened her mouth eagerly, feeling his strong tongue invading and dancing with her own delicate tongue. The hands on her shoulders glided down her body, the fingers catching beneath her green body suit and ripping it away from her. Two more hands immediately found and covered her tiny breasts, her already hardened nipples poking into their palms. They started moving in circles, rubbing and kneading her breasts, growing warm to the touch.
A warm hand slid down her leg and then back up along her inner thigh, strong fingers simultaneously rough and gentle on her skin. She gasped, parting her legs just slightly, as they moved along her tender flesh, finally coming to rest on her swollen, tender nether lips.
"Oh yes…" she sighed, feeling the strong touch, her wetness coating his fingers as they stroked firmly up and down her slit. The hands on her chest moved downward as well, gliding along the outside of her legs. The touches were hot as fire; wherever there were hands upon her, she felt warm, so very warm. Everywhere else was chilled, cold as ice. Yet this only stoked the passion inside her, making her crave their touch more.
She wanted to feel their bodies around her, she wanted to be encompassed by their heat.
"Touch me… more… please…" she gasped. Yet their hands were almost teasing… firm and strong on her body, yet she did not feel their bodies against her. The hands on her legs gently moved around to the front and slid between them, lifting her knee gently as the fingers stroking her lips glided backwards, moving along her bottom. She sensed the Barbarian in front of her (Gregor, was it? She couldn't quite remember…) drawing near.
Suddenly, she felt it pressing against her lips. His hardened c**k. He lifted her leg just slightly more, and suddenly, with a single thrust, entered her.
"AH!" she cried out. He was so huge, his c**k filling her delicate elven body completely. He was as hard as wood, and glided easily within her moistness. Tremors of pleasure rippled through her body.
At the same time, she finally felt the warm, nude body of the second Barbarian pressed up behind her. Joe's body nestled against her own, his warm chest finally covering her back, chasing away the chilling air. His thighs rested just beneath hers, warming her even more. His arm draped over her hip, holding her steady while Gregor rhythmically slid in and out of her, his thick c**k stretching her nether lips tight around it. "Yes… Yes…" she grunted with each of his thrusts. Behind her, she felt Joe's finger slide further back along her bottom, gently spreading her wetness along her tender flesh, pressing gently between her buttocks, into her tender hole.
"OH…. OH TUNARE!!!" she cried out as she felt Joe slide his finger gently inside her forbidden region. She felt so very filled by the both of them, and they moved in time now, in and out, in and out. Gregor's c**k from in front, Joe's finger from behind. It felt so perfect, her body was awash with sensations, the nipping cold still stinging her skin wherever and whenever it was uncovered, the fiery warmth of the two strong Barbarians around her, the wonderful sensations coming from her filled wetness and her behind. Her body shifted with each stroke, moving in time with each of their thrusts, over and over, the pleasure inside her building, and building…
Nectar moved her finger and the wooden rod in a perfect rhythm, her strong, muscled body cradled tightly behind Peachis on the fur-lined sleeping mat, their skin warm as fire wherever they touched and cool as stone wherever the air touched it. Peachis small elven body shook with pleasure as Nectar made love to her, one of Nectar's hands between their bodies, gently probing and thrusting into Peachis behind, while her other arm reached around and stroked the thick, polished wooden rod easily in and out of Peachis' wet womanhood.
They laid upon the floor for over an hour, Peachis still dreaming as Nectar stroked, caressed, and penetrated Peachis' beautiful, diminutive body. Finally, as the pressure built within her, Peachis opened her eyes, gazing up into Nectar's caring gaze. "Oh, Nectar…" she cooed as the half-elf woman's face swam into view through her dream, and with one final thrust of the rod, the love she felt mixed with the pleasure, and Peachis' body exploded with delight.
"AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… …ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh……"
Her voice rang out, musical, soft and ecstatic. It drifted along the canopy of the Faydark like rising smoke. It was musical, natural, blending with the calls of the owls and the howls of the wolves. A quiet, high pitched tune, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical.
An elf on the forest floor walking to Felwithe cocked his head to the side for a moment, smiled knowingly, and went about his business.
It was midnight in the Everfrost Peaks. The worst of the snowstorm was over, and Gregor and Joe were sleeping uncomfortably in their tents at opposite ends of the Everfrost region, both in their full armor in a futile attempt to better ward the cold away. Both opened their eyes a crack as an out-of-place cry echoed through the peaks around them, very distant, very faint, very feminine. The wakefulness was fleeting, and moments later they were once again asleep, soundly and each remained in a contented, warm slumber for the rest of the night. |
You're going to give Silvermouse a b***r haha |
you idiots dont need to quote shit that takes 10 minutes to scroll through. |
I agree.
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RealPoor Guru
Joined: 11 Oct 2002
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Posted: 01/24/04 - 02:30 Post subject:
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| Tolanin wrote: | | WhiteWidow wrote: | | Tizitchy Tinkergnome wrote: | | KapnKimchi wrote: | I prefer these stories. ^^
The morning in Kelethin was crisp as always. High in the treetops the temperature was much cooler than down on the forest floor. Sunshine speared it's way into the lofty wooden structures in narrow rays and sharp angles. Bird chirps and wolf cries filled the air in a gentle cacophony.
And occasionally, a mysterious song could be heard.
It took skill to hear it; you could only listen for it among the other sounds of nature if you knew precisely what you were listening for. Visitors to the vast Faydark never gave a second thought to the melodic wailing which seemed to whisper through the trees on occasion, the quiet cry never lasting much more than a minute or two, and always blending as though it were nothing more than the call of an owl, or the howl of a wolf.
But the Elves knew the sound… and when one of them listened carefully, paid very close attention, they would hear the infrequent melody. A quiet, high-pitched tune, different every time, like a long feminine sigh that varied it's pitch just enough to distinguish itself as musical. Then they would smile knowingly and go about their business.
One of the very highest structures in the city was an Inn. It had no actual name, and business there was infrequent. Many of the Wood Elves found their calling in hunting and adventure, rarely returning to town, and only visiting the lower merchants near the lifts when they did. It was small… in fact, it had only one room. These things would normally mean that it was a relatively unsuccessful establishment. Fortunately, it also had two regulars.
The owner of the Inn often left the building when they were there, knowing them to be trustworthy patrons, and also good self-sufficient business. They rarely required anything of the Innkeeper other than the room itself. As such, the only ones in the Inn this morning were those two patrons.
On a bed near a window slept one, a half-elven warrior who called herself Nectar. Her short, sandy blonde hair was clipped evenly about her head, giving a somewhat tomboyish look to her visage. Other than that, however, every bit of her was as feminine as could be. Her pale skin was as smooth as polished marble, and beneath it were slender muscles equally strong. Her quilt came to rest just above her bosom, which was full and firm, her pert breasts distinct beneath the quilt, raising and lowering it with each slow breath she drew in her sleep.
She was in peaceful slumber long after the morning began until a sunbeam managed to force it's way past the canopy, landing squarely on her eyelid. Unconsciously her brow furrowed, the strong light disrupting her blissful state, but not quite enough so to wake her.
Then came one of the cries. They were clearer at this extreme height in the city, the sound somehow drifting like rising smoke along the forest's canopy.
Even in her sleep, Nectar recognized it. The soothing wail flowed gently through the room like mist, far more subtle than the sharp presence of the sunbeam. It tickled the insides of Nectar's sleeping ears, bringing a languid smile to her lips, as she became conscious, wanting to be awake to listen to the brief song.
As the tune wafted through the chamber, she turned her head to the side, away from the intrusive light and slowly opened her eyes. As they gradually came into focus, they looked upon Nectar's most prized possession in all Norrath, and her smile grew even more.
Next to the bed was a sleeping mat, padded and covered in velvety fur. Wrapped in thick quilts and sleeping upon that mat was a beautiful wood-elf girl. She was on her side, facing towards Nectar, her lips parted in a slight "o", her breath very shallow. Her long blonde hair draped over her face like the finest veil, accentuating her delicate features, one long pointed ear protruding adorably from beneath her golden locks.
A few sunbeams struck her, one even landing on her nose, but having no effect whatsoever on her comatose state. Nectar stifled a laugh, looking at the quilt which the girl had flimsily tucked herself into, like a very fragile cocoon. Nectar began to lift away her own quilt when she felt the sting of the misty morning air. She quickly drew the covers about her again, the sudden warmth they afforded causing her almost to drift back into her own slumber. But her eyes never left the diminutive face of the wood-elf girl lying on the mat below her, and her beauty tipped the balance in favor of remaining awake.
With a deep breath, Nectar tossed aside her own blanket, bathing her own naked figure in the crisp morning air. Goosebumps immediately sprung upon every single inch of her exposed flesh. She gasped from the sharp coldness that surrounded her, her nipples quickly hardening into angry red nubs at the tips of each round breast. The sensation caused her to glance down to her bosom, and she smirked. It was the human in her, definitely… elves, while deliciously attractive, never had very large breasts. Half elves rarely did, but Nectar was a pleasant and unobtrusive exception, her chest full and alluring, just enough to be on par with some of the lovelier human dancers of Antonica.
Her body adjusted quickly to the cold, her strong warrior's frame accustomed to much harsher environments than a mere cool forest morning. Silently she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting upon the floor. As she moved, she felt a familiar sensa |
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