Age of Conan: Chronicles of Anath:
folder
+A through F › Age of Conan MMORPG
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,829
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Age of Conan MMORPG
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,829
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the game that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Age of Conan: Chronicles of Anath:
Age of Conan
From Freedom to Slavery:
The roaring had filled her ears as the wind whipped long black stresses across her creamy tan cheeks. Her hands lowered as the spell was losing it's momentium. She felt sure that the raiders would easily have most of the caravan defeated by now. Her sandalled feet were sunk in sand dune up to her ankles from all the wind she had been raising. Her dark emerald orbs tried to peer greedily and lustfully through the massive swirling sands at what would be her share of the trove.
Those were her last memories as suddenly blackness took her. What had followed during that blackness she knew not. She sat in darkness; her entire body throbbing in pain. She didn't understand why she felt so sore.
Her eyes snapped open as she felt the whip to her backside. She screamed out in agony as she felt blood dripping down her back. It was obvious that she had been lashed for quite some time before she woke up. Anath found her head laying over her arms, and her arms pressed against a worn oar. Her body snapped up as another lash came to her back; long black hair swayed behind her. The foul reek of filth, bile, and salt water infiltrated her nostrils. She grimaced and winced at the horrible stench. It was then that she noticed her hands had been bound together by mannacles. Anath tried to move her right leg only to find it constricted by a hard cold binding that chained it to the galley slave beside her. Her face was still slightly pinched at the horrendous body odor emenating from the leanly muscled male beside her; alnog with the foul reek of the galley itself. Anath felt like vomitting; but held it back down, knowing such a scent would only make her want to retch farther. Despite all this she had started rowing and the old lasher had halted his ministration upon Anath when she had started to move the oar. It felt so heavy; but she let her mind think over how she might have come to this end.
She knew what had happened. It came upon her in a mere moment. They had not wanted to share their glory with a Stygian female; so her raider allies had done something to her. Anath cursed the bastards for selling her into slavery. Anath's mind began at once set to calculating a way off of the ship. She had no desire to be a slave. She was a Stormcaller and her pride refused to allow this to be her end.
From Freedom to Slavery:
The roaring had filled her ears as the wind whipped long black stresses across her creamy tan cheeks. Her hands lowered as the spell was losing it's momentium. She felt sure that the raiders would easily have most of the caravan defeated by now. Her sandalled feet were sunk in sand dune up to her ankles from all the wind she had been raising. Her dark emerald orbs tried to peer greedily and lustfully through the massive swirling sands at what would be her share of the trove.
Those were her last memories as suddenly blackness took her. What had followed during that blackness she knew not. She sat in darkness; her entire body throbbing in pain. She didn't understand why she felt so sore.
Her eyes snapped open as she felt the whip to her backside. She screamed out in agony as she felt blood dripping down her back. It was obvious that she had been lashed for quite some time before she woke up. Anath found her head laying over her arms, and her arms pressed against a worn oar. Her body snapped up as another lash came to her back; long black hair swayed behind her. The foul reek of filth, bile, and salt water infiltrated her nostrils. She grimaced and winced at the horrible stench. It was then that she noticed her hands had been bound together by mannacles. Anath tried to move her right leg only to find it constricted by a hard cold binding that chained it to the galley slave beside her. Her face was still slightly pinched at the horrendous body odor emenating from the leanly muscled male beside her; alnog with the foul reek of the galley itself. Anath felt like vomitting; but held it back down, knowing such a scent would only make her want to retch farther. Despite all this she had started rowing and the old lasher had halted his ministration upon Anath when she had started to move the oar. It felt so heavy; but she let her mind think over how she might have come to this end.
She knew what had happened. It came upon her in a mere moment. They had not wanted to share their glory with a Stygian female; so her raider allies had done something to her. Anath cursed the bastards for selling her into slavery. Anath's mind began at once set to calculating a way off of the ship. She had no desire to be a slave. She was a Stormcaller and her pride refused to allow this to be her end.