PLAN B

[B]

Oma is now public! After such a long wait, I hope you enjoy her!

 

[BackSpace]

Oma is now public! After such a long wait, I hope you enjoy her!

I do!

I was hoping we'd get another person willing to do kinky shapeshifting besides Kasyrra, like a Doppelganger or something similar, so this is really cool! And I was pleasantly surprised by the family roleplay option being there. Didn't think that'd be one of the first choices we get for naughty scenes with her. But it made me realise that I really like the idea of a camp follower in the vein of Eubicha or Kalysea playing the part of a family member to welcome you "home" after a day out adventuring.

In any case, I hope we are going to see more of her in the future!

 

[A1teros]

She's here! Wonder what wishes people are going to go for. My first thought was deep pockets and then either immortality or power but teleportation seems ridiculously useful, both in terms of gameplay and in universe. There was that close call where Tollus tried to collapse the undersea fortress on us in the glacier quest but with this that just wouldn't be a danger.

 

[Zeus101]

Teleportation and Immortality for me love that thinderclap power but the other two I mentioned are too useful

 

[A1teros]

Yeah even if the immortality perk made it so you also didn't get things like beaten and bruised, enervated, and fatigued, it wouldn't be as good. Well, in universe at least. Gameplay-wise I think only champ is susceptible to things like fatigue but in universe even if you had the perk your companions need to rest. For the power ability I just think 2 turns is too long, I try to end my fights before that. Money is also not really an object at this point.

 

[IraMorti]

To be honest, I find Deep Pockets far more useful than Immortality. Literally stock on Winterstem or similar items (which you should have at least one healing item anyways even with the perk for in battle use, just in case) for the same effect. As you should have those healing items regardless, I just can't see it worth it, while deep pockets lets you carry double that amount without taking two slots. Teleportation basically lets you get rid of Lingering Embers though, freeing a slot. So that's worth. If Immortality did clear status along with healing or at least gave us a small in battle heal on your turn (like the mare's ring) - I'd definitely take it.

 

[Ace Hangman]

I wished for X-Ray Vision for seeing through clothes, but that involves B writing a special [X-Ray Vision] option for every clothed creature you encounter, and just describing their underwear at the expense of any other scene.
'You gaze at the defeated siorcanna, and see that they're wearing pink, seaweed underwear. While you're distracted, they manage to get away.'
'You gaze at the defeated Lieutenant Jen, beneath her trousers, you see a bronze-plated chastity belt lined with soft cloth. There's no lock or keyhole, only a simple rune. While you're distracted, she manages to get away.'
and that ends the scene.
Not all wishes are equal.

 

[Zeus101]

To be honest, I find Deep Pockets far more useful than Immortality. Literally stock on Winterstem or similar items (which you should have at least one healing item anyways even with the perk for in battle use, just in case) for the same effect. As you should have those healing items regardless, I just can't see it worth it, while deep pockets lets you carry double that amount without taking two slots. Teleportation basically lets you get rid of Lingering Embers though, freeing a slot. So that's worth. If Immortality did clear status along with healing or at least gave us a small in battle heal on your turn (like the mare's ring) - I'd definitely take it.

Yeah I think the immortality perk would be a lot better if it was like that

 

[Shrike675]

Immortality has the downside of only applying to the player character and not the whole party, sadly. So technically, it's a worse trail rations.

 

[Tarnakus]

I took Deep Pockets solely for Lyric's sake.

 

[B]

Sorry for my sudden extended leave! I was asked to write another kobold encounter for CoC2 and I'm a simple man that enjoys the opportunity to write about horny pintsized lizards that God has deigned carry the fattest of asses and thighs.

This is 17,000 words of kobold porn across just two sex scenes, but both scenes are especially deep: not even accounting for Champ being a blob of a character and requiring so much info for variables, you can top either the leader male kobold or the rogue female kobold if you win, and if you lose, you're bottoming for a quartet of lizards while they have their way with you.

If you're interested in only having the female, then CoC2 writer Gardeford has you covered! He wrote a scene where you take only her as your partner.

By way of apology for being absent for so long with no updates, this document is free to read! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FeXEvX43n3V0drBYJkowYNmsfrKyA-6tlS1I7LjHUAM/edit

You ask her what a gorgeous, lithe kobold like herself is doing being lumped in with a bunch of lunks like her companions. It takes a special kind of dexterity to work a sling the way she does; with skills like those, she could easily work her way into being the leader of this troupe, if not a larger one.

She purrs, not unlike a cat’s purr, as she rubs her butt against your hand and nestles herself deeper into your embrace. Her tail lightly swishes behind herself as she does, which unsubtly guides her butt across your hand. “Sounds like work,” she says simply. “Sling rock. Get shinies. Get reward. Easy.”

Sounds like she already knows exactly what she wants. And, you tell her, she’s right: being a leader can sometimes be challenging work. It’s all management: personal, resource, tactics – [pc.isBimbo|you usually try to offload all that junk onto someone else so you can have more fun|even you have to admit that it can be a little perplexing and difficult, sometimes]. There’s a very definite advantage to simply – and you emphasize the following by giving her rump a firm squeeze – following orders.

The girl on your lap hums as her purring resonates deeper in her chest. She leans into you, her nose tilted upward against your neck; her nostrils flare as she takes in a lungful of your scent, and her tongue slips out for just a second, getting a brief taste of your [pc.skinFurScalesNoun]. “You give orders?” she asks, her voice low. “I would follow…”

You ask him what a handsome, strong kobold like himself is doing managing over just three others in a cave. It’s clear that he has skill and ambition that the others don’t; he should be seeing over an entourage much bigger than this one.

“Um,” he stutters, immediately flustered by your praise. He can’t keep his tail from swishing behind himself, which has the knock-on effect of rubbing his butt against your still-groping, still-exploring hand. “I-I just do what told…”

There’s something to be said about being able to follow orders. Some people are born natural leaders, but leaders can still be made – in fact, they can be better at being in charge, since they know what it’s like to be on bottom, too.

Your left hand settles on the top of his sturdy knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. You ask him if he enjoys being the leader of his troupe – being on top, in charge, responsible for others. Or if he’d rather be the one following directions and orders: there’s something very relieving and liberating about not needing to be responsible for how others perform, and there’s a particular sort of pleasure in doing a good job for your superior. Maybe being on the bottom of the caste isn’t always such a bad place to be.

The kobold shifts on your lap and gasps out once, nervously diverting his eyes from yours to look at the campfire. Underneath the thin cowl of his loincloth, you see a bulge beginning to form and a damp spot beginning to spread. “Umm,” he hums, unable to keep a straight thought, so badly flustered by you – weren’t you two fighting just moments ago? It seems like a lifetime ago, now. “F-following orders…”

“Don’t want shinies?” he asks as he traces your puffed, swollen lips with his dick, careful not to let it go any deeper than just before your teeth. “Would give more shinies for more kobold sex?”

[pc.isBimbo|Whoa, that’s an option? You can just… walk up to a group of kobolds and pay <b>them</b> to fuck <b>you</b>?! Fuck, that sounds amazing! [pc.electrumRange 0 500|That’ll give you all the reason you need to find some more cash – build up a bit of float and then you can get railed by all the kobolds you could want!|You have more money than [silly|sense|you know what to do with]; are there more kobolds out there? Could you just walk up to some of them and offer your coin pouch for a few rounds? Where have they <b>been</b> all your life?!

The kobold clicks his tongue in mock-disappointment. “Easy,” he says, in a somewhat-derisive tone before he pushes his hips forward and places himself back inside your willing, waiting, hungry mouth.|The smell of his cock wafts up to your nose, and his shaft hovers so close to your tongue that you can taste the musk off its skin. The two other males pounding into you push forward, and his tip slides along your tastebuds, and he pulls away from you – but not before you reflexively purse your lips around his meat, unintentionally trying to suck it back down.

“No need to say,” the boss kobold says as he slowly pushes his hips forward, feeding you his cock once more. A part of you is remiss to admit that you enjoy the way his cock fits inside your mouth again. “Body answer for you.”

[pc.isBimbo|Gods above, you’ve forgotten all about what it was you’re doing before you got into this orgy. The second the big one said ‘suck my dick,’ all other thoughts in your head flew out the window. You never knew kobolds could be so much fun! [pc.hasVagina|One in your ass; another in your cunt|Two in your ass, stretching you thin like most cocks can’t], and one in your mouth[pc.hasCock|, and then there’s the delightful little minx clinging to you and riding your cock like it’s a sport]. Who could hate these little guys?

You’re not a [pc.race], and you’re barely a [pc.name]. Right now, you’re a set of warm pockets[pc.hasCock| and a stiff dick] for the kobolds to use as they like. Their energy is enviable and their teamwork is – well, it’s nonexistent, other than their shared need to stuff you stupid with their cum. For someone as easily seduced as you, this is heaven. Forget the ‘shinies’, the only shining that’s going to happen with you around is the spit shine you’ll give each of their cocks. And the one girl’s pussy, if she wants.]

 

[B]

Updated Agnimitra with 6,000 words! This finishes the remaining three of her titles - First of her Kind, the Beauty of Tronarii, and the Fiercest of the Harpies. Learn how Agnimitra is a war criminal in this update!

“The harpies of the mountains,
The proud, the true, the free,
By Sorra, her gifts they help themselves,
The sky, their lives, without a plea!”

“Sulba, her wings as wide as rivers,
Her gaze, as cold as ice!
To foes, her strength is second to none,
And to friends, her tenderness – it’ll suffice.”

Some of the harpies snicker[mitra.metAgni|, although Mitra tilts her head in confusion, wondering why the adults are laughing]. Whoever this ‘Sulba’ is must have been a real hardass if her legacy in song is being only halfway ‘tender’ to her friends.

“The wise witch Wilderun,
With her, our woes withdrawn;
To wit, her wings, white as wool,
While whence she worked, our worries were gone.”

“And Kudi, the Brave, the adventurous sort,
Feathers green as the grass,
No challenge unmet, no daring too bold,
And she’s fast! Don’t race her to dive if you value your[mitra.metAgni|… uh, butt|ass]!”

Mitra laughs uproariously, as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world. You, and the other adult harpies, laugh more at the quick catch of the tongue. Wouldn’t want the impressionable little girl getting the wrong ideas.

Agnimitra hums as she strums her fingers on the gittern, making a rhythmless tune to fill the air as she considers it. “Tronarii is a desolate desert; not a lot of ‘beautiful’ things can exist there. Have you ever heard how it came to be that I got that title?”

A momentary silence. “I mean, I always thought it was because you were pretty,” one of them answers. “It seems kind of self-explanatory.”

She smiles. “That’s very sweet of you… but it’s not quite the truth,” she answers. “Not all beauty is skin-deep. Have a listen to this.”

She strums her gittern a few times, humming a single, solid note as she does so, attempting to harmonize her throat with the sounds the instrument is making. She adjusts the knobs on the neck of the instrument to tune the strings until she’s ready, and then, with a big inhale of breath, she lifts her hand, pauses for effect – and then starts.

“Tronarii… the desolate land of want,
Abandon, all you outsiders; the sands you tread is a dead man’s haunt.
Tronarii… in a world filled with seas of green,
We are here, caught in between: no grass, no ocean, no respite is seen.”

“What makes a home? Is it where you are?
Where you are born? Where you live? Where you find your star?
We of Tronarii, this is where we stay.
We live here, cast away; through cold of night and heat of day.”

“The women, they are hardy. The men, they are strong.
A home is to be fought for with all their hearts lifelong.
And still, there is beauty to be found among the desert waste,
The oasis, we graced; the sands, we tamed; our struggles, misplaced.”

“Yeah!” Mitra cheers, balling her hands into fists and punching the air in front of herself. “Did he tell you where they where?”

“Of course he did!” Agnimitra says with a few high-paced strums of her fingers on the strings. “Because if he didn’t, I would have went right back to where I left him and I would have buried his head in the sand until he told me what I wanted to hear!”

Mitra laughs at the idea. So do some of the other adults.

“So I found the bandit hideout, and I went in there alone. There must have been a hundred – no, two – no, <b>three</b> hundred men in there! All of them, doing dastardly stuff, like… sharpening their daggers, and drinking booze, and… not washing their teeth! Only bad guys don’t wash their teeth, you know.”

Mitra’s joviality plummets. She looks over her shoulder towards the group of adult harpies standing behind her. “Is that true?” she asks one of them.

“You don’t believe your great grandma Agni?” one of the harpies asks in turn. “It’s true. Bad guys don’t wash their teeth. You can tell if a person is good or bad by how well they take care of their teeth.”

“So you’d better brush them after every meal,” Agnimitra finishes, pushing the head of her gittern against Mitra’s shoulder, without skipping a beat on her melodic-but-rhythmless playing.

 

[HugLife]

The caveman speak is pretty cute, but I am a little curious as to why these Kobolds speak in broken English/"Savarran" when Lyric and the rest of the underground Kobolds speak in full sentences.

 

[B]

That's what Savin did and I just built off that. Maybe these ones are just dumb.

 

[B]

Updated Agnimitra with 4,200 words! This finishes a new talk topic on her authority among the harpies - and it gets started on giving Agnimitra a new combat set focused on lightning! The content surrounding the lightning set needs to be reviewed for lore and is subject to change.

You ask Agnimitra about her status among the harpies of the Frost Marches. When she met others of her sort, she barely said two sentences before she was taking command, and soon, every harpy in the area was listening to her.

“My ‘status’?” she repeats, cocking her head to one side. The plume on her head shift with her, and a light crackle of fire starting up between her feathers pops in the air. “I mean… I’m immortal, [pc.name]. My ‘status’ among them is the same that you’d treat any elderly [pc.race]. I speak, and they listen to the old, wise woman.”

… Looking at her body – the smooth, unblemished skin; the uplifted cheekbones; the creaseless features of her face; and, hell, the perky, firm breasts and tight rump – you tend to forget that she <b>is</b> a ‘old, wise woman’. She certainly doesn’t look her age.

“I get that a lot,” she says with a laugh. “Well, when I’m freshly resurrected, anyway. And thanks for the compliments on my tits.” She looks down and gropes her own breasts in front of you, hefting each boob with a full-handed squeeze. “Time gives and takes. I can handle some wrinkles, but the boobs and the butt are always the things I miss most. And I say that when I get old enough that my feathers start falling out.”

Out of curiosity: does she have any direct descendants? Any kids she had in her most recent past life? Maybe you could meet them.

“Not for the past few lifetimes,” she says, her face flattening. Her tongue pokes out from the inside of her bottom lip, suddenly uncomfortable with where it is inside of her mouth. “My attitude on whether I should have any kids flipflops every few generations. On the one hand, families are wonderful, and children are beautiful. At least, mine are,” she says, with a nasally laugh. “But, you know… one of the hardest things to do in life is to bury your kids. Even if they live to a ripe-old age and you give them the best life you could ask for, it doesn’t change that they always die, and I never do. Sometimes I’m fresh as a daisy when they die of old age. You’d think I’d have plenty of time to get used to it, but…”

She curls her lips into themselves. “Listen to me. ‘Get used to burying your kids.’”

She turns her head a bit and glances at you out of the corner of your eye. “Nowadays, whenever I have kids, it’s because the person I have them with is <b>particularly</b> special.”

And she ends the conversation with that.

She steps away from the bed, inviting Agnimitra to open the trunk. Her fingers go to the two simple latches keeping it shut, and she flings it open–

And inside is… clothes. Clothes with darker colors: mostly blacks, with some off-yellow for highlights. Agnimitra runs her hands over the material – whatever it is, it’s tough, like cotton, but it’s smooth like silk. And there’s a whole lot more of it than the clothing she’s wearing now: just three red capes sewn together.

Agnimitra’s face scrunches, with her brow furrowing and her nostrils flaring. She doesn’t recognize it. “Did, uh, I happen to give you any hints?” she asks Zhara, half-sarcastically.

At that, Zhara hesitates. She glances to you as if you’d have a better answer, then lowers her head. “No,” she replies. “You said you’d remember it.”

“Hmm.”

Agnimitra hooks her fingers underneath the clothing and lifts it up. She presses her thumb underneath its fold, and lets the rest of it unfurl. It’s a dress top, with no sleeves, and the hem having been cut into halves so that the material reaches down her sides, but leaves her midriff and back exposed. Between the holes for the arms is a long, thick strap, likely meant to be a sewn-in bra. What draws your eyes is the yellow highlights down the hem of the fabric, sewn in jagged lines from the outside in, looking almost like thunderbolts.

An unusual piece already, but what really sets it apart from a typical shirt is that is has a number of metal beads rimming the holes of the sleeves, culminating in a pair of spikes at the top of the arm loops. It’d look more in-place as some kind of orcish combat outfit, something that’s meant to be warn on a battlefield, but it doesn’t provide nearly enough protection to be worn in a fight. In fact, it barely offers any at all.

Agnimitra gasps, jolting in place. “Wait,” she says.