Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 16_2

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:57

The new roundelay of dream images made him promise himself never to fall asleep without the appropriate dream catchers, or to take up methods of dream control, or to try to take his own training to the section of fortune-telling and clairvoyance, just in case he found a talent. It was said shamans were very good at this kind of work, and the same call practice had the necessary rituals and types of invocations in stock. True, this thought existed for a few seconds, a fraction of that, before being buried in the avalanche, tsunami, and mudflow of visions, equally colorful and incomprehensible.

Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:58

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:58

Armed with a double-barrelled sawed-off shotgun and a stack of sharp-edged throwing letters, Postman Pechkin fights against a chthonic ырше in the form of streams of crystalline and liquid blackness, now and then growing symmetrical cones. A small and cartoonish girl with a plastic hammer knocks classic WH40k fortress ships right out of orbit while an infantry battle between the armies of Those Who Are Hot and Those Who Blow is going on around her. The much-maligned boa constrictor Kaa swallows a container ship laden with weapons and radio parts while the crew desperately fires off large-caliber automatic parrot-throwers. Six sumo wrestlers try to push a small Godzilla back into the sea as he desperately tries to explain his smallness.
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Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 07:36

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A red-haired young man in a heavy and unbearable without magic armor, a horned dragon helmet with a huge hammer-halberd-axe near him is stroking a cat that has climbed up on his arms, making a speech in front of a crowd of people armed with anything. The people, characteristically, listen attentively and not without respect to the speaker, even quite inspired by what they have heard. They are all excited, ready, and eager for feats, booty, and new levels, but the kitty sitting on his arms looks indifferently at his subjects. He knows for sure that in fact it is His Fluffiness who is the most important here, and the rest are just trash, needed only to put the food in his personal bowl. But the others do not know about it and live their petty human passions. And that is why His Catness, in His mercy, will not dissuade them from these naive and ridiculous delusions, allowing them to maintain the illusion of control over their own lives and destinies.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 07:41

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

Dressed in the uniform of American marines Scrooge McDuck, paints his face in the style of the famous Rambo, arms himself with a plunger, soldering iron, and pliers, and then goes to storm the office of the Elven Queen, breaking through the defenses, tearing to shreds the protective fields, in passing sizzling the crowd of naked goblins with a crowd of naked goblins with big dicks, as well as loudly and ornately and exquisitely swearing in high Elvish. Elves, non-elves, flying meatballs, and even the gods try to stop him, but Scrooge is unstoppable, unstoppable and incredibly cool. His plunger strikes without a miss, shutting enemy mouths, his soldering iron passes dangerously close to tender asses, and his pliers threaten to pull out all the teeth one by one and twist the tips of the ears to blue. But here, on his way stands an elf dressed in a spiky man's choker and tight leather pants with the face of a fatally tired worker for fifty dollars, and the mighty duck stops, bitterly wails, sobs, and almost begs, but under the tired and indifferent look of the elf streams of gold defended by him began to flow away again.
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Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 07:44

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

The same elf, only even more tired, with the "I'm surrounded by idiots and even bigger idiots" stamp on his face, yells - somehow without raising his voice at all - at the group of elves and elven women who want to fall through the ground, repeating a slightly modified monologue of Sergeant Hartman. Particularly hard to get a shrunken elfess of amazing beauty, which even reeks of seductiveness and superiority... would have reeked, if she did not want to vanish to nowhere. The pointing finger of the Gachi-elf now and then pokes somewhere in the direction of the illusory projection, which shows a vague and murky image in which you can see the same elfess. Then he points to another image, which shows the same elf, only lying in a medical magic circle and being patched up after some severe setback. With each passing second, the despair on the face of the victim of tyranny grows more material, and her ears twitch more and more, turning ever redder. She promises to mend her ways, to check her servants and her quarters better, but, for the sake of the First Tree, stop mixing her ego with fertilizer for the First Tree.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:17

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A man desperately yelling something profane is fighting off a water tentacle-demon with a barrel of pickles, while a powerful Requiem is playing in the background and angry dragons are flying in the sky, where someone has cut the thin membranes of their mighty wings, so that they start to fall a little bit every now and then, leveling off at the last moment and flapping those wings like hummingbirds. A man with a cleaver, dressed in a very shabby set of heavy armor runs past, shouting that he has brains and he is not a fool and very sensible, dragging on his shoulder a snake-girl hissing something no less profane, and in his other hand holding those very brains. Behind him runs a flaming Asian cultivator with the posture of an emperor and the face of a sadistic ogre, running without half of his skull and the brains that the fleeing man took. At some point, the Asian man got fed up with it all and turned into a dragon, whose wings covered the very heavens. But the fleeing man presses a button on a remote pulled out of the serpentine girl's cleavage, activating the air defense system, and magical rune missiles in the shape of shovels strike the enemy in the vulnerable wings. The gloomy and majestic Requiem is replaced by one of Andrei Danilko's hits, causing the hovering dragons to scatter in terror and fall.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:23

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

The frame changes and a very angry, but equally embarrassed half-elf, blushing like a crayfish boiled in boiling water, expresses some kind of complaint to a vaguely recognizable, as if from another dream, elfess in a dress with a gorgeous neckline and a tired face of a professional who failed on the spot and was assigned to a completely unplanned work as a punishment for not even her failure. She apologizes in an almost sincere manner, saying that she was framed and that she was the injured party, no less than he was, because they were in the same wing of the healer's wards. And she was only medicated she was only a little less than her accuser, and he was much better cared for. For some reason, he did not calm down, but he did not find the strength to yell anymore, he choked on air when the accused told them that they would be working together for a long time - she was entrusted with his training, the same subject as last time, but now it was teaching, not training. And in general, she said, "Get over it, boy - this is the Royal Palace and games like this happen here regularly". But usually without participants from outside the forest. And without the threat of becoming a corpse. The half-elf gritted his teeth, but he couldn't say anything, because he didn't have enough breath, nor eloquence, nor arguments for objections.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:37

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

Purple gaseous mist and indescribable color light that came from other worlds, unbearably blazing and fluctuating under the blows of the supreme demonic magic of the whole army of the infernal invasion, but reacted as violently as an elephant on the pellet that hit him on the flight, crawling on the enemy in a broad front with the grace of a paver. After a while, all that was left of the desperately fending off demons, including their incarnated Lords, were mangled remains and some quality nothingness. Purple gas and unimaginable light gather from an indescribable horror beyond the comprehension of the human mind into the humanoid figure of a slightly older man in an old suit and reading glasses. The man's appearance causes Stepan, who has suddenly realized his presence in this not-here-and-not-state, a kind of chthonic horror, especially when the man looked at him with such a characteristic squint that the sleeping shaman almost recognized him. Shouting something incomprehensible, the young man began to run away from the dream, chasing away the thought that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Even-In-the-Deepest-Pit of HellAda had noticed him.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:44

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A luxuriously furnished bedroom with a dozen beds, expensive furniture, a lot of magical protections, and only one woman sleeping on the bed, a beautiful woman, magically gifted at the level of a good adept, red-haired, and shapely. Dressed only in a nightgown, under which her tense nipples show through, she is sleeping and dreaming clearly pleasant dreams, as she has a satisfied and inexpressibly imperious smile on her face, the mistress of her own life and countless other people's lives. She is the only one sleeping in this bedroom, but not the only woman at all, for next to her on the bed is a guest dressed in a solid and tight-fitting black cloth, who is clearly uninvited to these boudoirs. Her face is not visible, but her naked and gloveless palm is visible, from which invisible and almost imperceptible even in the most qualitative magical vision threads flow to the head, to the eyes, ears, and nostrils of the sleeping aristocrat, flowing inside, staying there and letting through everything that flows through these threads.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:50

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A shapeless and inarticulate piece of space, in which the self-conscious Stepan runs past black and withered trees, running away from some old and scary Negro, who chases him in the company of hundreds of running mannequins with the faces of various people and non-humans. Among these faces, the face of the old man, one for all, one for each. He runs, speaks, or asks, the young man even hears this phrase: "Wait, I want to ask". Stepan only answered, shouting the answer on the run and without slowing down: "I don't really know anything," and then accelerated even more, as if a racing car and a couple of rocket boosters had been inserted into his legs. As he ran past another clearing in the foggy and dark forest, he crossed paths with a very surprised and demonic-looking teenage girl who gave him a glance with cross-shaped pupils.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:52

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

Dressed in the famous and recognizable armor, Commander Shepard tiredly fills out some documentation in the company of Liara and his female double. The documents include delivery dates for the next batch of catgirls, as well as mind-rewiring installations specifically for Azari women. In the eyes of the trio, there is universal sadness, even more universal pain, as well as resignation to the inevitable and a deeply hidden struggle against it. On the table of the male version of the Commander is a full bottle of rare Jamaican rum, on the table of the female version is a thick volume of exorcism prayers and a reprint of the Hammer of Witches under the seal of the Vatican with the latest revisions, and on Liara's table is a pink-covered tome with the title "The Hypnotic Power of Blue Tits: How to Master and Use. Justiciar Samara, dressed as a very lecherous maid, enters the room, delivering drinks, dinner, and a new stack of documents with specifications for the next shipment. An empty bottle of rum went quickly to hand, running out just as quickly, so next up was a supply of medical alcohol and rocket fuel. No one notices the little devil girl with horns and a ponytail peering into the room and quietly sneaking around, except the male commander, who is staring blankly into nowhere with his thousand-yard stare.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 08:56

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A huge mansion-palace, as if stacked like a constructor from a pile of separate pieces of buildings and structures, both rich and poor. The structure is constantly shuffled in the style of Rubik's cube, so the village hut can stand upside down or sideways, just next to a piece of the magic tower. Two men are walking through the slightly overgrown and feral garden - a young man with a military appearance and in scarlet trousers, frantically writing something down in a notebook, and a young but slightly older man with the look of a clerk incapable of hurting a fly. The latter suddenly stops and looks straight at the place where Stepan's image-understanding is located, wagging his finger and saying that it is not good to peep, but since such a Divine Milf is asking for him, let him go in peace. After that, Stepan seemed to be kicked away with a very soft but unstoppable kick, and the vaguely recognizable devil-demoness ran after him, losing her slippers, flashing a stamp of pure admiration mixed with primordial horror on her face distorted by these emotions.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 09:01

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A nightclub, and a terrestrial one, recognized personally by Stepan, in which for some reason they had also delivered stripper poles and brought in strippers. The young man even looked at the whole pleiad of all sorts of beauties, among which there are not quite people, like that lizard-girl, wiggling her ass and tail, skillfully dancing in a charming, enticing and passionate rhythm. A strange noise distracts the young man, and he realizes that he's been talking to her for some time, which makes him feel a little ashamed. A beautiful girl in a cosplayer headband with horns and contact lenses that create the effect of cross-shaped pupils is asking him questions, and he's staring at these strippers, and she should be offended. However, she was not offended, only slightly irritated, and that not at Stepan, but somewhere behind his back, immediately smiling sweetly and seductively and asking: "So where are you from, Pann, my darling? And what is your real name?" He starts to speak, but for some reason, he doesn't hear his own voice, he just looks into those beautiful eyes and at her smile, but then...

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 18:16

The noise from behind him disappears as if moving to another point, and now the side wall of the hall collapses. A group of battle mages clad in enchanted armor and magical shields pile onto the dance floor. "Good evening, we are from Neirat!" Albus Dumbledore, dressed in rune armor-mantle, announces, adjusting his sunglasses and pointing his battle staff in the direction of a girl rolling her eyes in obvious annoyance. On that staff, a not-so-great headpiece shimmered with a mixture of green and purple, directing a stream of reality-burning magic toward the girl with whom Stepan had had a strange date. However, she just disappeared, vanished, and with her all the strippers disappeared. Then the battle mages themselves, led by the old man Albus in dark glasses, nodded manfully, gave a military salute, and were gone.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 18:18

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

Again a vaguely recognizable couple, a half-elf with no sensation of elvenness, and an elven woman, beautiful and seductive, sitting in a chair with a slightly bored look, throwing off her scarlet sandal and putting forward her bare feet. The young man looks at her with a triumphant expression on his face, even though he is on his knees, furiously and diligently pleasuring himself, now and then squinting his eyes at the measuredly moving foot, up and down, up and down, up and down. With a loud and satisfied groan, he came, but at the last moment, he changed his position, cumming on the softly carpeted floor instead of on the elf's foot, earning a sweet smile from her. Without even attempting to wipe himself, he wrings himself out every bit of it, sitting down in the second chair, leaning back in it, and breathing heavily. Satisfied and a little with superiority even he expresses to her that he passed this course with an externship and her trick didn't work, so he closed the exam, you could say, with an automatic. Because if he's ready, and not attacked sneakily and suddenly, then Mrs. Alatrel won't be able to do a damn thing, and that's why he doesn't need her lessons anymore.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 18:57

Without changing her sweet and innocent look the elf agreed with everything, and also asked, just out of curiosity, to explain how exactly he understood her trick and removed the effect. The young man explains he quickly realized that several hours of dialog that had disappeared after he had refused to give her practical lessons were a consequence of her despicable actions. He properly analyzed all his thoughts and therefore, as soon as she showed him her perfect foot, which any normal person would want to lick and kiss, he immediately broke her compulsion and brazenly brought himself to orgasm, without waiting for her orders and permission. And even the secondary effect of forcing himself to spunk on her perfect skin, he overcame it by bringing it to the floor, as befits a man, because his human seed should not stain her primal purity. And so now he would go to his chambers, where he would spend at least two hours licking the pussies of his maids, dreaming of the day when he would have achieved enough in this skill to make Mistress Alatrael witness it.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 10:57

The elfess only looked at the two maids sitting a little aside, a pretty cat lady and a human beauty, as well as a short-haired elfess in the robes of a battle mage who folded her arms on her chest gloomily, blinked a little perplexedly, as if she had just woken up from watching this spectacle, winked at them and achieved a synchronized tired sigh. The same tired sigh, suppressing the statement in the style of "such an idiot" from a few combat groups of elven special forces watching the training. After that, she corrects a curl out of her hair, draws the attention of the still-smiling student with a soft movement of her hand, runs her fingers over the sparkling necklace, and then flicks the boy who leans forward and opens his mouth in delighted amazement at her beauty on the nose.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 11:01

He immediately went limp, falling back into his chair, and then, blinking, hastily covering himself with the pants he had taken off earlier and blushing beet red, she gave him an equally sweet and polite but very substantive lecture about how he still had a lot to learn, despite his opinion to the contrary, and his dangerously deceptive readiness to attack. She said goodbye politely to the female guards and reminded them of the next lesson in three days, and asked them to work through the techniques and manuals, to be more diligent this time, and not just egotistical, because she had self-respect, despite the circumstances. Besides, in the future, the tasks will become more complicated and she will not always warn the student that the lesson has begun and he needs to resist. Blushing more than ever and desperately averting his eyes from the eloquent glances of his guardians, the half-elf promised through gritted teeth to do his best.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 11:03

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

Tahira, smiling a dumb smile with DD-size tits in her hands, is busy tossing those tits in her palms and not paying attention to anything else. She's sitting in a cushioned chair in the middle of a nicely furnished room. Next to her, in the same room, two men are talking, each with a guard, and in the far corner, a devil girl is lazily waving her tail. The first convinces his interlocutor that it's possible to pay more for a gifted girl, and even so finely crafted, because he has preserved her original personality and skills with minimal damage by installing full verbal activators. The second parries with the fact that she's weak-gifted. She has no knowledge and he doesn't really need her personality. The first shakes his head, waving away with a hand in heavy and magic rings, asking not to try to deceive him if he does not want to quarrel with the respected adept Maurice. Why should he have stipulated about the identity and its preservation, if not for the fact that this product for some time was in the team of Gulash? Wasn't that why they fiddled so much with the need to cover up the victim's five-day absence and not to arouse suspicion, wasn't that why they bribed her escorts?

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 11:14

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A long and dark corridor of an abandoned hospital, along which a bloody monster-killer walks, dragging his wounded leg and holding three heavy rusty cleavers in his weakening hands. The fourth cleaver, as well as the fourth hand, are unclear where they went, but the stump is almost no longer bleeding, slowly healing. But the monster can't get far, in the far corner of the corridor there is some noise and shuffling, he tries to hide, to escape, to hide in one of the side rooms, but he doesn't get away, he is quickly overtaken by a low and crooked old woman in a pink sundress. Here the hellspawn leaps up, catching on the wall and then on the ceiling, running across it in defiance of gravity, holding the old mop the way one holds a battle harpoon, and the old floor cloth like a myrmidon its net. She runs past a girl sitting on the ceiling with horns and cross-shaped pupils, who wags her demonic ponytail thoughtfully, and then there is an ominous and portentous "Where to on the clean floor?" After that, only screams, sounds of tearing flesh, and the monster's agony are heard.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 11:17

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

A dark room, though no, it is not a room at all, but a very recognizable island in the middle of a complete colorless void. In which one can see and see despite the darkness. In which one can live even though there is nothing to breathe. In which one can be, even though there is nothing else. Here, in the middle of this emptiness, on a single flat platform are the only guests of this place. There are more than three of them, but only three of them are in the center of the dream's focus, only three of them belong to this dream, completely different and yet something impossibly similar, as if they were even united by a single will, bound tighter than blood brothers and the most loyal friends. And all three of them are infinitely annoyed by their being here, literally exuding vibes of where they saw each other. If there was an opportunity, even the slightest, they would have been at each other's throats a long ago, but there is no such opportunity, just a quest and the need to fulfill it. The problem, as they say, is a small detail - the assignments were given strictly according to their specialties and strengths but the recipients of these individual-group assignments were mixed up.

Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 19:54

A strange half-elf, in which exactly no star blood can be sensed, yells maternal ditties, banging a homemade tambourine and wasting reserves in attempts to summon the highest spirit of a very vague and difficult-to-digest sphere of space and emptiness. No one comes to his call, and it's not because they're in the middle of nowhere with no way to escape, it's just that the sorcerer's call is completely wrong, working the way he's used to with magic, with high magic, with almost no use of his own spiritual bodies. Of course, he listened attentively to the specialist's explanations but as it happened, it was impossible to retrain on the fly, especially if one had to master a completely alien magical approach and doctrine. It's funny, the spirits hear the call from this place and come to him, as if in the normal world, but only to escape the ways of the spirits can not even try, as if the possibility of this cut off at the root. Next to the half-elf, two beauties - a red-haired cat lady and a human woman with white hair and a doll's face - are hustling around, trying to help as much as they can, but they can only help by wiping away the sweat of labor. The task must be done personally and independently.

Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 20:02

At the opposite end of the platform, an ordinary-looking man of very average, though well-groomed appearance, unremarkable and furious is working. For the eighth time now, he is beginning to draw an intricate ritual outline for a powerful and multidirectional elemental strike that can be used to crush a dwarven sub-mountain settlement, a medium-sized city, or one of the Neirat Towers, if struck suddenly and with precision. While uttering the most subtle curses at the stupid fighters who have neither intelligence nor imagination but to burn and burn and burn, he laments that he has a very different specialty. And even the fact that he is a very universally developed user of the Tablet, does not cancel his lagging behind in the aspect of combat higher ritualistic formation of reinforcing circuits! Behind his back are also two assistants: a tall, over two and a third meters, orcess, organically combining beauty and femininity, as well as strength and athletic-muscular physique, and huge green tits, and also a thin and even in sleep elusive Asian woman with good forms and habits of an elite killer. They both wipe the sweat off their Master now and then, trying to calm him down after another failure.

Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 20:06

In the center, separating the two individuals, who otherwise would certainly have clawed at each other's throats, or rather, would have tried to claw, despite the system ban for the duration of the quest, was Stepan. He sat tiredly in a semi-meditative state, holding a suffering expression on his face, in which the unspoken "\\What have I come to?" and "What am I wasting my life on?" were equally mixed. Hovering in the air in front of him was an elven beauty with the aura of a battle mage, short-cropped snow-white hair, and very decent breasts, supported by many small spirits. Many threads, tentacles, and fully formed spiritual bodies were flowing into her aura and spirit, carefully and slowly remaking the victim into a perfect sex toy with many modes, sub-personalities, and embedded bookmarks, as well as with full preservation of personality and skills in the "dormant" state of these bookmarks. The young man can't help but express his thoughts out loud, earning angry looks from both of his fellow inmates.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 11:37

The half-elf venomously remarked that the shaman owed him, if only for the fact that his mentor had agreed to become a "teaching aid", since she was written in the quest condition by the name of the System, and also promised, by the same name, to remove all the effects back three weeks after the quest was completed, adding a certain number of characteristics. The other asked, with a kind of venomous jealousy, a provocative question about how the shaman had gotten such fucking skills and summons and where he could get such skills and summons? At the same time, he laconically reminded him not to press too hard on the marked areas of the mental field, or it could cause "leakage" of the embedded habits and sub-personalities in the normal and peaceful life of the "sleeping" doll, which should not suspect its state. He also gave some more advice, in which Stepan could feel the deepest experience of working with similar tasks. These remarks caused an angry tirade of the half-elf, no less venomous mockery from the second man, a contemptuous response to the counter remarks, and so, they are again making a mess, rather than trying to complete their assignments at least on the most minimal-satisfactory grade.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 11:45

Stepan, once again punching himself in the face with an audible facepalm, is almost ready at this point to start praying that the three of them would be moved to different rooms, or at least provided with sound isolation.

Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 19:57

In the far corner of the platform, invisibly for all stands, trying not even to breathe, a girl-devil with horns and a tail, in the eyes of which glisten cross-shaped pupils, and on her face you can see the intense work of thought and understanding with which she looks at all three.

Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 19:56

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 17:59

An old house, ruined by the battle that had just broken out, the dust and bloody haze still in the air, the drops of scarlet liquid that flow between the wide slits in the floor of this house, disappearing underneath it. Stepan tries to follow each drop, but something is not right here, he is distracted by something else and disappears, continuing his battle with an unknown enemy. His own blood, the scarlet droplets of his nearly lost life, pools into rivulets and drips into the crevices until the dry and dusty boards are not even stained, not even a trace that blood was shed here at all. Somehow this image seems very important, much more important than the demonic girl standing in the corner of the dilapidated house, waving her tail with a thickened heart at the tip. No less important than the battle raging with renewed vigor and slowly subsiding outside those walls.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 19:00

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 18:00

Sixteen pussycat girls in sailor fuku sneak through the streets of the evening city. They move smoothly, confidently, calmly, and with an ominous coherence, like a single organism. Here is a lonely guy walking alone on the night road, dulled in the screen of his phone, not noticing how the ominous shadows surround him, how the ring around him is shrinking more and more. The leading catgirl lets out a quiet and concise "Nya," and then all sixteen merciless babes pick up her battle cry, descending on the last unsuspecting guy. He tried to react. He tried to fight back. He pulled a loaf of hard-smoked sausage from his bag, using it instead of a baton, but all his attempts at resistance were brutally and uncompromisingly crushed. The sausage flew in one direction, the telephone in the second, the clothes in the third, and the ruthlessly occupied victim was covered with a solid blanket of catgirls in sailor coats. A few minutes later, seventeen catgirls in sailor fuku sneak through the streets of the evening city, they move smoothly, confidently, calmly, and with an ominous coherence, like a single organism. From the side another girl is watching them, only not a cat, but a devil, only her gaze is quickly transferred to the image-flow of the sleeping Stepan.

Camrad_RIP 07.08.24 в 19:03

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Camrad_RIP 06.08.24 в 18:00

A recognizable image of a half elf-not-half-elf, but at the same time it, this image, was different as if it were not just a dream, but a dream that had not finally come true. That could not happen a priori. That could never happen in this version: a different outcome, a different facet, a different everything. A facet in which there is no someone else, someone very important and as if also connected with this elf, cut out of reality for some reason. In this dream the guy is tearing up the range with perfectly executed magic arrows, streams of lightning, and complex elemental strikes, now and then throwing a lot of scanning and searching charms, finding the most successfully hidden lies of the enemy, which are numerous animated dummies. His movements are close to perfect, he doesn't waste energy and constantly keeps his defenses up in case of a sudden strike. This happens several times, but each time a specific and very advanced attack is met by an equally specific shield, with additional safety layers.

Camrad_RIP 08.08.24 в 10:02