Warhammer: Vermintide

The Flames of Aqshy (adult writing, highly explicit and very NSFW)

warhammer 1 - The Flames of Aqshy (adult writing, highly explicit and very NSFW)
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Hello there. A couple of years ago I ended up writing a short story about what really went on at the Red Moon Inn when mostly everyone was out catching rats. It's been sitting in the virtual drawer ever since and I've only ever shared it with very few people. It's beyond me to say whether or not it has literary merit, but I guess this is the one place where it could perhaps make for an interesting read to a broader audience. I'm really on the fence when it comes to adequacy. I hope it's compliant enough with rule #5, but it's all the same if it has to be taken down. I'd argue it's on the side of tasteful but still highly explicit and very NSFW material, so be mindful when reading. It also came along with some commissioned artwork but I'll hold off on adding that along with the story, again mainly due to rule #5 concerns. Maybe if the material turns out to be interesting and within acceptable boundaries I'll change my mind. That being said, thank you for reading!

***

The back alley was shrouded by darkened curtains, their fabric opaque even to Morrslieb's radiance, big and bright as the false moon was that night. Only the faintest gust wrought from above the nearby waterfront dared reach into the narrow street. Its whisper was answered by the low creaking of an emblem; The Red Moon Inn was what lay written upon the crimson sign and over the crescent, though no inkling of presence transpired past the boarded windows or the heavy door cast in an iron brace. It was of course a wizard's meddling, a trick of one who had since long banded with the ilk of shadows. In truth, the hearth crackled quite happily, spreading warmth and comforting hues over the woodwork adorned with imperial ornaments.

For the first time since the ratmen had swarmed to the surface, the ladies kept the Red Moon for themselves. Kerillian was recuperating; perhaps not so much physically, though she still felt a bit out of tune with herself, but more in terms of reassembling her pride and letting any angered thoughts dissipate on their own, lest they'd push her in a reckless state when true aim and focused mind would be desirable. She would have gladly parted with several centuries worth of her memories, if allowed to forget their last escapade. The nearby shattering of a globe carrying poison wind had quickly forced her knees into meeting the ground, eyes burning from the vile mess and airways scorched by a caustic miasma. The Skryre-rat's incentives, Deep breaths! Ke-hee! Enjoy!, squeaked in a voice distorted by the air filter as it crawled back into the sewer still echoed very clearly, in spite of her ears ringing at the time and of her head turning into a foggy mess. As she crumbled there, able only to bury her eyes in her hands and react violently to the gas, the clanrats gathered round, driven by one loud urge: Quick-quick! Let's stab the elf-hag!

A couple of nights later, she had yet to thank her savior. Not just because it was beneath her to commend a mayfly, but given how close she got to burning like a pyre alongside the vermin, she figured gratitude might wait a bit more. Resting in her bedroom would have probably aided her best, but the tiny chamber encroached too much on her weary nerves, and thus she settled for the hall downstairs. In happier times, it would have resounded with the melodies of troubadours and the chatter from tables cluttered by inebriated folks, but recently it served only as a war room for the ragged band. Out of habit if nothing else, she had taken her usual seat, hiding by a table right behind a wall towards the back of the inn. She retained the waywatcher garb, with the thigh-high boots, leggings bracing her waist tightly and bodice lined with woodland motifs. A leather shawl wrapped across her hips, coming down between her legs and over her bottom, and a mantle of white fur warmed her back. As always, hood and scarf obscured her visage, hinting only at gray strands and eyes seemingly poured from pitch one droplet at a time. Delicate fingers with well-kept nails grazed the table, following the fine grooves etched upon it. Her demeanor remained unaltered as well; she retained her usual silence, with eyes adrift in the most distant furthers. But so it was that at once they turned, moving along the floor of rough stone, over the pelt of a great bear from the Grey Mountains and towards the woman sitting right by the hearth.

The fire was like an overgrown pet purring at the side of its mistress. Some of it coiled playfully around Sienna's bristle hair, decorating its rouge tones with petals of twinkling orange, as if depicting a volcano on the verge of eruption. An iron cast hid the upper part of her face, but from beneath it, eyes crackled like brooding embers. The same shade of liquid fire writhed upon her shoulders and down along the arms as a living, restless tattoo. She was wrapped in a long top of drake scales that concealed her body down to the heavy boots locked by regiments of buckles and sporting upturned, plated toes. Her gloves were tailored from a slick, black fabric, reinforced by metal guards and with the fingertips held in sharpened cases. She would use them to pluck fire from the hearth; just a wisp at a time, which she would then roll on her palm and squeeze like a ball, making it grow large and tumultuous before returning it to the kiln.

Kerillian's eyes fixated her for a good while before Sienna finally returned the gaze. Her scarlet lips traced a rigid line at first. The embers behind the cast glared monotonously. She seemed content to caress her flames, but all of a sudden she indulged in a trickster's smirk, displaying it from the right corner of her mouth. The metal casings on her left hand clicked along the coat and she pulled the scale mesh off of her legs, revealing the black leather trousers that squeezed her thighs. She gently raked the leather along the side, from just above the knee all way to the hip's rounding. In answer, Kerillian got up slowly, still a bit uneasy on her legs, and moved in front of the table. With her bottom pressed against it, she opened the shawl's bindings, allowing the garment to slip at her feet. Her hands clasped the table's edge and, with her thighs parted wide, the hearth's glow illuminated clearly the mapping of her nether petals, faithfully rendered by the leggings.

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Sienna deepened her snicker, jumped up and began to strut towards the elven maiden, her boots tapping loudly over stone, then thudding softly as she crossed the bear pelt. She pouted her lips and brought her hands up before the Fae that suddenly appeared to shrink with discomfort, as if having second thoughts. The heated metal tips dug softly in her hair, sinking beneath the hood, and slipped under the edge of the scarf, trailing her skin from nose towards the ear. Kerillian's grip hardened on the table, but eased abruptly when Sienna brought a knee between her legs, pressing it delicately against the inner thigh and commencing a slow, steeping rub. Then, one hand pushed deeper, driving the hood off, and the other tugged at the scarf, revealing the waywatcher's face. Kerillian's eyes plummeted, their onyx depths embarrassed by the blistered gash that tarnished her fair skin, like a sickle reaching from pink mouth to ear. A ratman's claw that had scraped deep, by all appearances. Sienna hummed soothingly and continued to caress her hair, running through thick, silver bundles. Then, she took hold of her chin and began to nudge it upward, so that their eyes could meet once more.

With all the scolding and downtalk that she had to endure from Kerillian, even if less so than the others of the group due to the fortune of being a woman, Sienna could not abstain from poking some fun at the maiden's weakened condition. Or so she thought. Kerillian must have read her intention in the brightening flares behind the cast, in the subtle tightening of her smile or perhaps in the gasp rushing past her lips in anticipation of her words. The elf cut her short, right hand sliding away from the table and landing hard upon the mage's groin, which she groped and squeezed. Sienna moaned with surprise, hips buckling. Her hold of Kerillian faltered, and it was the waywatcher's turn to smile lightly, arching an eyebrow at the same time. Her left hand gripped the mage's shoulder, and a moment later Sienna found herself being pushed back, the waywatcher's right boot stepping between her legs and elegantly clipping her heel. Sienna toppled upon the bear pelt and, far from being distressed, wiggled herself in a comfortable position as she began to tug the upper edges of her top. Though resisting at first, the scaly mesh conceded and slipped under her orbs, providing an upward tension that enhanced their somewhat modest proportions. Sienna entertained herself with the heated tips, tracing the vibrant areolae or pinching and twisting the rising nipples while Kerillian disposed of her trousers. Even in that task the elf was not found to lack dexterity, for she managed to hastily pull them over the boots, leaving Sienna's bare legs to spread and fan in the air, like a trap for the hearth's glow and warmth. A hand pressing down on the mage's womb momentarily quenched her enthusiasm; Kerillian knelt on the fur, eyes somewhat perplexed as she felt the minuscule black thong. Sienna chuckled, squirming playfully as the garment followed a tickling passage up her legs. She had to be put still once more, the waywatcher pressing hard directly on her sex. Sienna laughed it off and gazed intrigued and the maiden's stupefaction: Kerillian brought the tiny piece up to her nose, turned it over a few times, sniffed the dip that had contained the mage's lower lips and then cast it over by the trousers.

Kerillian then turned her knees inward and bent over with her rump uplifted, thighs close to vertical. Middle finger traced the edge of Sienna's ring, then pushed fervently inside the anus, causing passionate gasps to warble from her throat and making her legs rock as they dangled in the air. With a patronizing smile, the waywatcher used her free hand to squeeze the upper portion of the mage's folds; her nose probed their opening and then she lapped eagerly at what she believed to be the most sensitive area, assuming that her partner would react like a Fae. Indeed, Sienna shuddered upon the fur, hips in trepidation, groans creeping forth in stuttered bundles. Fiery lashes uncoiled from her tattoos, their whipping trailed by searing figments surged from her hair. Through the openings in the cast, her eyes appeared like wells brimming with magma. She was happy to ride the attention thus offered, and struggled only to keep her thighs from clamping shut around Kerillian's head. A lull in the stimulation allowed her heels to finally dig into the floor. Her fingers grazed the pelt, teeth bit her lips whilst she still quivered, loins and anus coiled by fulminating pleasure. Only when she sensed a subtle darkening above did she put her lust aside and looked, finding Kerillian's boots to frame her visage. Their rims met convergence right on top of her, the crowning flower and upper body unsheathed from garments.

The waywatcher settled on Sienna's face, allowing her mouth to indulge in a less habitual kiss. Yet, she did not tarry in order to measure the woman's ardor. Instead, she immediately leaned over her, fondling the back of her thighs and resuming the treatment of her mons. The mage lifted her head slightly, allowing Kerillian's legs to cross under it and offer support. She tasted the elf with delight, chewing her lips loudly, spitting into their opening between wet kisses, all while her encased fingers played with the groove of the backside, prodding gently at the nerves that wreathed her anal ring. Not long after, past the crackling hearth and muffled groans came a loud sputtering, each of them gushing with copious amounts of nectar. With seamless, fluid motion, Kerillian turned over, pressing her thigh hard between Sienna's legs, allowing their breasts to squish together and closing her arms around the back of her head. The woman beneath submerged herself in the blackness of those eyes, a dark that not even her flames could banish. She surrendered to a proper kiss, and their tongues lashed in a sweeping dance, mixing the load of their pleasure juices in a concoction that they then nibbled from each other's lips and savored in its viscous passage down their throats. Kerillian squeezed tight and Sienna returned the strength of the embrace as she felt the waywatcher's thigh pushing her closer and closer to the summit. With a loud groan, she remained still in the maiden's hold; a heartbeat later she quaked, venting steam and spurts of honey as the roiling orgasm turned the span of her perception to white fire.

In the aftermath, exhausted gasps crawled along the ashes of consumed firewood. The two ladies, wrapped in each other's arms as much as in bear fur, continued to indulge in their kissing, sharing their warmth and the light rubbing of their bodies.

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