CoC2 Typos

[shadefalcon]

Byvernia

That ends pretty quickly when a throwing axes swirls past your party's heads. They crash into the craggy ground with enough force it cracks the surface, sending stone fragments sailing. You don't have time to focus on just the axe, though; attached to the handles snap taut and sends the projectiles sailing back from whence they originated.

Ghost mission

Hey, now that feels good! You let out a small sigh of relief as your aches and pains dissolve away into nothingness and your mind clears.Seeing that you've suffered no ill effects from the water, Cait and Atugia drink greedily from the other basin, only stopping when they're sated.

Mercenaries

They've abandoned their bows and position but their bronze armor and its furring makes these goons look toughened enough to not need them. The one at the lead looks right at you — as if chosen ahead of time — and speaks through an enclosed helmet with a masculine voice.

Lack of comma


Orc camp brawl

It seems like the realisation of what you've just done is beginning to sink into their minds, so long touched by fear of the proverbial lash; the definitely look a little more confident now that they're armed to the teeth, practically bristling with more sharp edges than they can safely carry. As you watch in silence, the armed slaves slip out into the camp, making a beeline for the slave pens.

With that, it's time to move on, either to cause more havoc in the warcamp, or to the chieftain's tent if you're ready to put an end to this. If you've beaten the stuffing out of a good chunk of Argoth's warriors, the cheftain himself can't be that much of a threat, can he?

They instead of the. Chef instead of chieftain. Unless Argoth is a cook?

Throne sex

Your thin hips start really moving, pistoning up into the orc's brawny behind with enough force to drown out the rest of the world with the thunderous cracks of flesh pounding flesh. Arona howls your name and throws her head back in sheer ecstasy, holding on as hard as she can those last few moments before inevitable submissive orgasm overtakes her. You watch with pervrse glee as a fat rope of pearly cum shoots from the crown of Arona's wobbling spigot, splattering across the worn stone of her tribe's royal dais. Your own member is drenched in a deluge of femcum that accompanies Arona's juicy orgasm. The added wetness only serves to lubricate her dusky folds even more, letting your rock-hard cock glide through her rippling muscles to batter the entrance of her womb.

Perverse