HotKittygirl
Literotica Guru
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The Cult of the Dragon God, part 1.
Mae Van Duran couldn’t recall exactly how the bar fight had started (in all honesty she didn’t really care). She was in the thick of it, twisting and hammering clenched fists at the nearest face or body. She grabbed whatever was in reach and lobbed it, mugs, plates, a chicken, even a small dog (or maybe a kobold she wasn’t sure). The sounds of chaos echoed about her; Mae loved it! As a noblewoman might love the ballad of a beautiful singer the cries of pain and the crunch of bone were music to the barbarian’s ears. Yet she was note immune to the swirling cloud of fists, broken bottles, and wood that thundered about the common room of some nameless tavern in an otherwise nameless town. Already her bottom lip had split and her of crimson blood trickled forth. The metallic taste was thick in her mouth as she swung another blow at a balding commoner, nearly taking his head off from the sheer force of the blow. The man mewled pitiful and tumbled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the floorboards.
With another foe down Mae turned her attentions elsewhere, spinning on the balls of her feet gracefully. She held surprising grace for one so tall, nearly topping out at an impressive five foot eleven. That entire body was taut and toned from a life of constant battle, sleek muscles rippled with each movement underneath the layers of leather and cloth. A fiery mop of crimson hair, cropped boyish short, whipped about a rather alluring visage. One might denote such a beautiful face as one of noble birth, though there was nothing noble about Mae, especially when she opened her mouth.
“C’mere you little fucking shit brain! I hope you saved room for my fucking fist! Because I’m going to ram it through your stomach and rip out your gods damned spine!” She bellowed with a fierce roar, almost like a lion issuing a challenge. After all, she was known as the Crimson Lioness to many. It was a befitting moniker from the way she acted in battle, leaping into the fray with the double headed axed etched with twin roaring lion heads while she herself released a feral battle cry. She was no different in this bar fight either, taking to it with a zest and hunger that was almost frightening.
There seemed to be no end of foes to rumble with either. A punch here sent one man stumbling into the awaiting fist of another, this deadly dance had numerous partners that loved to swap places. How long had it been going was anyone’s guess, still the adrenaline pumped through Mae’s body, a sheen of perspiration clung to the skin on her arms, face, and partially exposed chest. A rather ample display jostled with each deep breath she took, those swells held deliciously together by the tight confines of a verdant green tunic. Once more she slammed a clenched fist into a man’s face, feeling as much as hearing the satisfying crack of bone as she spun and lunged for another target...or so she thought...
Mae Van Duran couldn’t recall exactly how the bar fight had started (in all honesty she didn’t really care). She was in the thick of it, twisting and hammering clenched fists at the nearest face or body. She grabbed whatever was in reach and lobbed it, mugs, plates, a chicken, even a small dog (or maybe a kobold she wasn’t sure). The sounds of chaos echoed about her; Mae loved it! As a noblewoman might love the ballad of a beautiful singer the cries of pain and the crunch of bone were music to the barbarian’s ears. Yet she was note immune to the swirling cloud of fists, broken bottles, and wood that thundered about the common room of some nameless tavern in an otherwise nameless town. Already her bottom lip had split and her of crimson blood trickled forth. The metallic taste was thick in her mouth as she swung another blow at a balding commoner, nearly taking his head off from the sheer force of the blow. The man mewled pitiful and tumbled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the floorboards.
With another foe down Mae turned her attentions elsewhere, spinning on the balls of her feet gracefully. She held surprising grace for one so tall, nearly topping out at an impressive five foot eleven. That entire body was taut and toned from a life of constant battle, sleek muscles rippled with each movement underneath the layers of leather and cloth. A fiery mop of crimson hair, cropped boyish short, whipped about a rather alluring visage. One might denote such a beautiful face as one of noble birth, though there was nothing noble about Mae, especially when she opened her mouth.
“C’mere you little fucking shit brain! I hope you saved room for my fucking fist! Because I’m going to ram it through your stomach and rip out your gods damned spine!” She bellowed with a fierce roar, almost like a lion issuing a challenge. After all, she was known as the Crimson Lioness to many. It was a befitting moniker from the way she acted in battle, leaping into the fray with the double headed axed etched with twin roaring lion heads while she herself released a feral battle cry. She was no different in this bar fight either, taking to it with a zest and hunger that was almost frightening.
There seemed to be no end of foes to rumble with either. A punch here sent one man stumbling into the awaiting fist of another, this deadly dance had numerous partners that loved to swap places. How long had it been going was anyone’s guess, still the adrenaline pumped through Mae’s body, a sheen of perspiration clung to the skin on her arms, face, and partially exposed chest. A rather ample display jostled with each deep breath she took, those swells held deliciously together by the tight confines of a verdant green tunic. Once more she slammed a clenched fist into a man’s face, feeling as much as hearing the satisfying crack of bone as she spun and lunged for another target...or so she thought...
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