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Not My Body, Not My Mind

In a few places the Charr were considered little more than animals, beasts that had learned through magic or development to walk as upright as they were able use tools well enough to create what the common man might consider something along the lines of shelter, but this was far from the truth. Charr were well respect among their legions as strong and powerful warriors, builders of great war machines, and above all deeply civilized to the point of competing with any of the other races. These creatures were deeply feline in nature, but still shared the canine tendency to gather and work together as groups. That was the only reason that the Charr had managed to survive this long, but still there were times when they ventured off alone, sought out adventure and tasks that could be handled by just one of them, not that they've ever shyed away from battle before. That was what brought Rylock to this camp, this abandoned place that had long since been left behind by the notorious Flame Legion which had taken up occupation in this land. It was their task to try and improve upon what was here, but this was far more difficult with those of the flame constantly trying to overtake what little territory they'd managed to tame. The Flame Legion had come to be known as a blight to them, a name that was spoken in disgust and hatred thanks to their ruthlessness and void of any common decency. But it was the close connection with nature that had allowed the Charr to build such a small emcampment that even after the firepit had gone out and even after the walls had been torn down, this place had welcomed the surrounding environment back in with near open arms. It was something that could be easily missed if not for Rytlock's prior knowledge that this small place was suppose to be here. Still, with vines covering old logs, and the ground swallowing up what was once a rather well sized firepit, the revenant warrior knew that it was his task to find out why this place had failed.

The dust had already stained the claws of his toes and faded the shine of his dark armor, a display that showed his wear from this journey, but still maintained it's menace to any that might be foolish enough to attack him. The polished steel almost glowed against the bright of the sun but didn't hide the darkened spikes that rose from his left shoulder. These added only a basic level of protection, but more importantly provided him with more of an excuse to shoulder charge enemies on the battlefield when the occassion happened to come around. With the black of the metal armor matched only by the slight darker tone of deeper bits the only color that rose to vision was a red gem that emblemized the breast plate at it's very center. This deep blood toned red matched perfectly the two tassels that hung from his belt, hanging as low as his knees, but this wasn't the only part of him that was such a crimson red. His mane that covered the top of his head all the way down behind his dark armor against his back alone held the same deep color, but the rest of his full body covering fur was met with a more brown-ish tone. His four horns that stretched back from his skull, the sides of his face, and even the rest of his entire body was a thick matt of brown fur. The two long horns were at the top with two much shorter ones just under them as if to protect the back of his jaw. Under those were four braided locks that hang low, giving some dignity to the overall brutish nature of the vision that was this beast. If there was anything of his face that broke up this color it was the sides of his snout just under the line of the nose which found itself much paler in color as well as the sharp gaze that came from those yellow eyes. Such bright orbs almost glowed against the darker color of his fur, but showed everyone and anyone exactly where he was looking and who dared to catch his attention. Those that did might even regret having caught it, though, this brutal warrior wasn't just a mindless creature of violence alone. He could easily share passion if these same eyes caught sight of someone in a different way. This wasn't a time to focus on such ideas, though, not when a task was at hand to be completed. This Charr needed to make sure that he could accomplish his reason for coming here, and distracting himself with thoughts of those many nights before wasn't going to assist him in doing so at all.

With this beast looking so animalistic it was hard to believe that they were anything more than brutes, but some of them had a much stronger connection with the energies of the universe due to this, and an interesting few could even speak with spirits of the long dead. This was Rytlock's gift, his task, and at times his burden which left him to search this place for any remenants of what might have happened, though the scares on the land, and the deep blade bites taken against the surrounding stones and still barely standing wooden structures would go beyond to prove that these wretches had been driven from this place and forced to flee like the cowards they were known to be. Rytlock couldn't hold back the slight smirk that touched his snout, the bit of joy that he got knowing that this tribe had lost even an outpost as obscure as this one. The red-headed feline enjoyed the thought of them suffering even the slightest bit against the constant suffering that they'd dealt to so many others. This smirk faded, though, when the thought came to mind about how manyof them must have fallen in this same place to drive these Flame Legion followers from this place. It was better not to think about such things, but it was also his task to discover the truth here and make sure to gather the facts as they were presented. That's where his gift came in, his ability to speak with those spirits left behind, his ability to communicate with those that had died on this camp turned battlefield. This wasn't something that he'd take a huge level of joy in, but it was something that was absolutely necessary for his quest, and if he was lucky, he might even be able to help some of his fallen brethren to rest after their deep service to the Blood Legion's cause.

A long exhale escaped his breath as he allowed those amber eyes to shut slowly, his mind along with his hands as he felt around the area. His feet didn't need to move, not when his senses could reach much farther and far faster than his slow movement speed could permit right away. Already he could hear them, the echos that came with him reading those around him, sensing the cries, the pain, the torment that had come long before the battle even started. Torture was the name of the game here, capturing who they could and then making them talk by any means that could be imagined. Rytlock always knew that the Flame Legion was without mercy, but he didn't expect for a wave of calls to by so plentiful that they overlapped one another into a mixed tone of anguish that yet still prevented him from making out any one person at all. This was a terrifying ability that would buckle the legs of any lesser Charr, but for this brown monster it was just another day in his life. He'd heard far worse, and lived through far worse beyond that, but as he filtered through this calls and tones his ears jerked to the sound that they couldn't even hear as he finally opened those eyes again and turned his gaze towards the back of this camp. In a place that was more isolated than the rest he could hear another voice entirely, not one that echoed pain, or hatred, but one that seemed to sense him right back, and even called him by name.

"Rytlock..." The voice echoed, almost whispering to him. it was a voice like something spoken through the barrier of time itself, a soft hum reaching out to grab attention back to where it shouldn't be. This was how spirits often spoke, and while such a thing could disturb a lesser minded person, he had grown far too use to it to be bothered by such things. The complacency of which being far more disturbing to him than the voice could ever truly be at this point.

It had to be an ally, would an enemy be calling to him? Would they even know him by name to call out to him? This was the question on his mind as he saw the haze of a blue wavering form standing like a mist ready to be blown away by the wind. The sight of it was something familiar, the image of just about any spirit that he'd seen before, but nothing of the shape seemed all that familiar. It could be an ally, but that doesn't mean it was an ally that he'd personally met or remembered. With the sight of this thing in his path he could tell only that it was a Charr and nothing more about it which brought him those few steps closer. So many of his brethren came across his line of sight that it make it impossible for him to remember every single one of them. Not a fault of his or of theirs, but Rytlock knew that every one of them was doing their best to improve their guild to the best of their abilities. It was a harsh war, a deeply depressing one, but if this was a warrior that he should remember then the brown beast could only hope that his memory would win out and that he could avoid offending a creature that seemed to know him by name. If nothing else, it knew him by sight, but then again his figure was a more opposing one when it came to the Charr people. His brown fur and yellow eyes were more of an icon at this point than anything else. It was important to keep in mind that people might simply recognize him by that alone due to legends or tales about his deeds and exploits. Not a note that he often tried to overlook.

"Identify yourself," He instructed, wanting to make sure of who he was speaking to before trying to gain any knowledge from such a lost soul. "Where do you hail from?"

"I am.. from the same place as any in this legion." The void answered, sounding almost as if it was straining to speak at all. "Why have you come to this sad place?"

Rytlock paused for a second, but knew what his mission was and believed that he could get the answers he needed from this spirit who seemed much calmer than those others he'd passed to get here, "I'm to gather information on this camp, find out what happened here so that I can report it back to the High Legions."

"That is a long story, very long with many entries. Someone as important as you might not have time to hear all of the secrets I have about this camp." The spirit said, drawing a rather disappointed and frustrated look from the brown beast who didn't want to spend all day just listening to a ghost talk to him, "There is a faster way, though. If you channel me perhaps my memories will be easier and faster to read than just me explaining things the way we are now."

The spirit was right, this hadn't been something that Rytlock had thought of. The fastest way to get back to his home and deliver his report was simply to take the spirit into him so that he could have all of the detail needed. It was nothing new for a spirit to want to be channeled, such a harmless practice was basic between them and a revenant such as himself. Once bound he's able to allow them to share his body which permits him to access what they know. It was an easy solution for the information that this specter claimed to have, and one that the red maned Charr was happy to accept if it got him off of Flame Legion grounds any faster. The revenant didn't question how a spirit would know such a thing, would even imagine such a tactic could exist, but there was little to consider when it came to the understanding of spirits. Only they knew what they truly knew, and this might include a full understand of how spirits function upon death. This crimson haired Charr didn't see a reason to question it, or maybe it was just him wanting to get back home as quickly as possible. Regardless the reasoning the offer was sound and the beast standing here was happy to take the faster and more informative way than sit around listening to a ghost whisper at him.

With an agreement between them Rytlock would one again focus his mind, pulling his spirit against the spirit of this lost creature so that without any open effort the ghost would fold into him, being absorbed into that brown figure and leaving the eyes to glow a light blue around the already amber gaze. It was only after this spirit had filled him, had control over him did Rytlock realize what he was seeing. The memories of this spirit weren't those of an ally at all, but instead that of a powerful Flame Legion spell caster. The correct course was to eject the spirit, to force it out of his body and slay it all over again, but when he'd try he found that his mind, his body, was no longer reachable by his own housed spirit. The revenant warrior had to wonder what was going on, what could cause such a thing to happen. Those memories that continued to flash through him gave him a rather quick answer as it explained in so many flashes of images and events that this wasn't just some mere spell caster, this wasn't even any kind of mage. This was a shaman, and more importantly a mistic. Such a being was in tuned with nature, the earth, and above all the spirits that inhabit it far more than a revenant ever truly could be. This class drew it's powers from those spirits, and their training was that exclusively of elemental and spiritual enlightenment. Needless to say, Rytlock never stood a chance if it came down to a battle of the souls.

Who was he? Who was this person that had tricked him so thoroughly and left him defenseless within his own body? The name came in fast, almost as abrupt a whisper as the first time they met. His name was Verask Roland, and without any question or pause a voice flowed from his lips in a completely different tone and accent matching that of the spirit earlier, "Sit tight, oh fair Rytlock. I'll be enjoying this body for a while."

* * *

A deep exhale was followed by a long and thorough enhale, pulled that spirit into his own, allowed Rytlock's body to be occupied by another as his mind focused on nothing more than the thought of discovery. In an instant he felt cold, but in moments that chilled feeling would fade away and this beastly mocha char would feel his body adjusting once again to the sensation of another spirit within his figure. It wasn't an easy sensation, it never was, but even as he tried to calm himself and focus on learning what this spirit knew he could already feel his own mind being pushed back further and further as if falling into the deepest of bottomless pits. The more he tried to climb up, the further he felt like he was sinking which left the char leader with a worry that rose far faster than his mind ever could. It was only then that he could hear it, the words being spoken, a promise being made, a slight taunt being launched at him, but it wasn't spoken to his mind, it was spoken from his own mouth. Words that he didn't say, a statement that never even passed his mind, and the command to sit tight. But who could command this char? Someone that ruled his body might be able to do just that.

"You might as well calm down, Rytlock, you're not going anywhere anytime soon. I have a lot of things to accomplish in this strong and powerful form." The newly identified Verask was able to say. The voice itself was that of Verask, just as it sounded long before his death and just as it sounded now that he had been revived.

The very idea that he'd occupied this body, that he'd taken it over so easily from this being forced him to chuckle out, a chuckle that rolled into a deeper laughter as he kept feeling the prodding in the back of his mind that must have been the supressed Rytlock trying to regain some level of control. This was an easy fix, though, with but a thought that mind sunk once again. Rytlock already knew who he was, he'd already read that information while Verask continued to force him deeper, but it didn't matter what the crimson feline thought as this clear and apparent enemy did as he would with this body.

At first it was just an arm, the ability to live it, the ability to feel something solid wrapped around his spirit so that when he did lift that limb he felt weight behind it. This was a sensation that Verask had missed in the strangest of ways. It almost brought him a sense of pleasure knowing that he was once again made of flesh, made of bone, made of muscle, and what muscle it was. Just this armor alone should weigh far more than Verask had ever really lifted, but with this body, with this build, with these powerful muscles that covered his horned feline crimson body the invader hadn't even noticed he was wearing it. It allowed yet another deep roaring laughter, but one that spawned even more of a curiosity as he now wanted to see more of what this body was hiding away. The only issue was that he couldn't really examine his new figure with this heavy dark armor covering it. Verask might not have been the type to wear armor, but he still had enough education to know how it's designed to be put on and removed. So when he started unfastening the straps holding it down, started lifting areas of the plate to pull it over his head, started slipping his hands from the gauntless and feet from the grieves, this char would slowly free himself from the constrains of such heavy and containing metal clothing.

Rytlock had seen far more than something that was just simple and basic battle in his times, he'd seen the front lines more than what was fairly his turn to do so and thrived there, but what amazed this newly dominant mind was that despite the countless fights, despite the struggles, despite battle and war alike there wasn't a single pronounced scar at any point on his body. If there were light marks here and there the char couldn't tell with his fast and initial inspection.

"You must be quite the warrior, Rytlock, I would have never known that you'd survived all this time without a single deep enough wound to mar your flesh. That truly is impressive." Verask would state, praising the leader for his capability, before adding in his simple and easy going statement, "It's good that my new body hasn't been touched too badly by the bite of a blade. I should thank you for taking care of it for me for so long."

I was as if Verask could hear the screaming rage of his mental adversary from the depths of the pit that he'd stuffed him when he laughed out again, not willing to even acknowledge this rightful body owner while he moved swiftly around the camp. A step became a stride, and with a hard kick against the ground he'd find that his body was lifted high into the air, far more than Verask had even been expecting. "This really is an impressive body," He stated to himself, not even taking note of his trapped co-pilot while landing once again, "It might take some practice to get used to this figure given just how powerful it really was.

His old body had been more frail, not weak, but not nearly this strong either, and while his hands ventured around, that tail swung fast behind him as if trying to hide itself away. Muscles covered his figure, but not just that of a well tended body builder. These muscles were those of a combatant, someone designed to fight, someone designed to defend, someone designed to overpower and overtake. The bulge of his pecs, the rock-like structure of his abs, the thickness of those thighs and arms. Just tensing his new body made Verask feel like he'd grown in size as each muscle thickened against his flex leaving a long and dark smile to creep across the face so widely that anyone could tell just how absolutely impressed he was.

A dash brought Verask across the camp, a simple run done in the nude left his station and armor behind until he came to the edge of this location. A fast and immediate turn would bring that dash back into stride as easy kicking motion launched him forward so that his feel barely needed to step on the ground. What Verask didn't notice was the wall in front of him, the movement of his body driving him towards it, but with a plant of his feet and shove of those powerful arms, the full strength of his body crashed against it causing the wall itself to fall against his might. The laughter that followed allowed him to look at his hands, noticing his body was unharmed from such a feat. A long smirk driving him so that with his fast examination he'd look back down at that crumbled stone build wall.

"This, I like. You've done well developing my new body for me, Rytlock. I'm going to do quite a few enjoyable things with this power." he admitted, not willing to give away the entirity of his plan, but more than happy to demonstrate just how weak this fellow Char's will is against his own.

Verask had plans, he had schemes, ideas that had been set in waiting for far too long entirely due to his death in this old ruined camp. It wasn't such a burden for him as much as it was an annoyance, but now, now he'd be able to deal out bits of pieced of that plan in order finally set his ideals into action. Of course, it was obvious that his plan was little more than conquest, why else would he need such a strong and powerful body? Why else have such a figure that he could hardly take his eyes off of, could hardly keep his hands off of. The thick tuft of fur that rolled between his newly acquired fingers, the solid texture of muscle that existed underneath it, just existing in this body made him feel powerful just as it made him feel oddly interested in what else this figure had to provide. That would have to wait, however. Most of his plan required that people be fooled by this body, to make them think that he really was this crimson feline Tribune of the Blood Legion, but that required him to sound like Rytlock, to mimic is speech, and his words. Verask wasn't about trick anyone with his own voice coming from these crimson lips.

"Ah... ah..." He worked at tone, his pitch rolling across time and again while he deepened, shifted, and brought that pitch lower to something just a bit more familiar.

Anyone who was Char knew Rytlock's voice, some were comforted by it, some where horrified by it, and others were challenged against it, but regardless of who or what the voice needed to be perfect even if well memorized by nearly any feline-like creature in this world. It was well known that his voice was deep, that was why as Verask spoke his calls, his tones, his vocals, he'd reduce the pitch more and more to compensate, but pitch alone wasn't going to be enough.

"I am Tribute!" He shouted out, saying the line outward in what was similar to the correct tone, forceful, demanding, raged as if a counter accusation had somehow been said against him, but there was still something missing here.

Rytlock didn't simply speak when he spoke, but spoke through heavy tones, and deep convictions. He spoke from his lungs as much as he did his throat, and this left an echo of a growl in every single word that passed from his Char mouth.

"Is that wise?" He asked unironically, even possessing this body that was not his own, "She is..." he'd stop himself, making the slight correction where every breath matched this same slight and almost non-existant growl, "...is a hero." Perfect.

Commonly known quotes and words alone weren't enough, though, not for the attention that so many of his species graced this body with, if he simply spoke with the right tones he wouldn't be able to trick these rivals and enemies. He couldn't just talk like Rytlock, Verask needed to move like him as well. He'd make heavy steps, steps fueled with purpose, with pride, with history. The weight of his body backed up by the strength that caused it while this imposter marched around the camp slowly while carely placed movement at a time. His body hung stiff, firm, to express his power and authority while those eyes didn't even bother to shift side to side as if knowing that nobody would dare to step up against him in order to challenge his rank in the clan that Rytlock called home. The mannerisms were that of confidence, of pride, but mostly of conviction knowing what he knows and doing what he's done so many times in the past. Those same steps would draw out his growling breath just like Rytlocks would have so many times before. His pacing had been completed.

Of course this power wasn't simply power alone, it came with... something more. Confidence. The knowledge that he was as strong as he looked. Such a stance was noticable by anyone even the Flame Legion that possessed this body to duplicate such a walk, but this Verask couldn't hide the fact that he found such a thing appealing, inticing, sexy. Just the confidence alone filled his mind, reminded him of the muscles, and strength behind this form that left his hand glancing across his figure once again before he even had a chance to notice that this hand was moving based off of his instinct alone. The feel of the fur parting between his digits gave him access to the swollen and well trained muscle at his newly adopted chest. The curve to the muscle, the bend, the way it filled his palm as that full hand pressed down against it forced a succulent grin across Rytlock's face while under Verask's control. A few well placed squeezes would eventually bring that hand down first against the strong sides before rolling his wrist across the studly feel of those abs. Rytlock's thumb, Verask's thumb, dragged against it flowing across the first and then down into a crevace before rising over the next and back down again. This happened more than a few times a while that hand traced against each muscle and down to more important points on the body. When he gripped his thigh even Verask was impressed by the tone, by the feel of just how solid this limb was, but that wasn't his target either and with enough delay this Char would finally find his hand right at home where it belonged, wrapped around the meat of a feline member.

The girth alone pushed against his fingers, trying to stop them from losing as his rather large grip viced back down against it. The long draw would result in a pull of his skin, allowing it to bundle up on top of his first finger and pushed all the way to the head. This bunching only lasted a second before that hand allowed it's way back down deeper and deeper until it met his hips on top and thick, juicy, needy balls underneath. When Verask looked down at the work he was making just the sight of this body standing on top of him forced his lungs to release the held amazement in a lustful groan. Two strong pecks rose against his snout and a gathering of abs that he could actually count made a road all the way down to his hips that housed a thick monster of a feline dick being pulled up and down, to and fro, with a hand that was already powerful in its own right. It was hard to believe what he was seeing, what he was doing, the sensation of holding it kissing his brain while the feeling that the hand created almost matched the need and sultry desire that he needed to continue. His motions were like that of a ticking clock, his wrist falling into a continual and endless roll that brought him from tip to base and back again even as beads of clear fluid started to pool at the very tip and roll down over the bumps of his well used knuckles. The heat of his breath was hard to ignore through the fur of his chest, but Verask didn't dare to turn his head away or close his eyes. It was the view that caused him to start feeling that pressure, the gathering of his lust at the tip of his dick, the escape of a few more milky droplets, before he could no longer maintain that gaze and with closed eyes he could feel the shots of liquid need shooting from the tip across the landscape that he'd just been looking at. The hills of abs granted a coating of white while the valley of his chest was turned into a quickly draining lake. A single shot even resting across his panting snout to leak down over the corner of his borrowed lip.

This was a lust that he needed to get out of his body early, but one that he didn't regret for a second as Verask finally decided that it was time for him to start putting his plan into action.

* * *

Even as he wiped away his own thickened liquid from across his face the still well satisfied Verask knew that there was still at least one measure left to cover before he could trust this body enough to venture back into its homeland. The possessing charr knew that his brown counterpart would have put some level of tactic in place in case something of this nature had ever happened. Fooling those randomly around would be no actual task, but to get deep enough to accomplish his goals and trick those closest to him would be the true test of his abilities. Running, walking, and even talking like Rytlock wasn't going to be enough. Luckily Verask knew enough about the charr's life to handle most of his closer acquaintences, but what worried the Flame Legion beast was the fact that the mind of this brown creature kept bounding back in at the worst possible moments. It would be unacceptable to try and trick his allies with such a guise as well as constantly work to suppress the Tribune. This possessing charr simply didn't wish to divide his attention at critical moments. That meant he needed to find a way to push down this ever recovering voice echoing in his borrowed mind all the more urgently.

It was when he went to take a step and felt this heavy foot struggle to move that Verask knew his enemy was once again attempting to recover from his latest suppression. The Flame Legion charr had done well to put Rytlock into a deeper sleep, but already the brown beast was waking up and with him was already starting to take back this body. "No, not yet." He'd murmur to himself, sucking in air through his teeth and raising hands to eitherside of his head as if this was going to do any good in order to put this powerful foe back to sleep once again. It was a struggle, a strain, a fight, but this plan had only just started, and Verask knew that something had to be done before it ended just as quickly.

"Get... out.. of my... heeeeead!" Roared the brown charr, Rytlock fighting to regain any control at all while these words actually managed to rise from his throat and exit out of his very own mouth despite Verask's efforts. It felt like a second of victory, but only a second before that victory passed and he was no longer able to control the lips anymore to follow up.

The head shook, his body following suit as he stumbled around, "Not yet. I haven't completed my goal just yet," Verask argued back, this time his voice coming from that mouth as though the charr was fighting with himself using different tones and pitches.

The snarl that followed brought the voice back to a deeper level, "What do you plan to do?!" The question came, curiousity mixed with a heavy level of rage.

Even those legs began to move, shaking, wobbling, shifting, sliding, the motion of them dragging this charr from side to side, forward and back, stumbling almost aimlessly around the camp as both worked hard to gain control over this body in any way that they were able to. It was a surprise to Verask that the enemy charr was able to put up such a huge fight considering how much his mind had been dominating this body up until now. It proved the urgency of his situation, of his mission, and if he was going to regain control then he needed to do so cleverly.

"Gaining control over this body is enough of a plan already." He'd say to himself, barking out as he worked to keep his balance, "Any information or damage that I can accomplish while in it is simply icing on the cake, fool!"

The loud roar that followed showed in equal parts Rytlock's rage over this statement and situation, but also Verask's strain to maintain any level of control that was clearly slipping from his grasp by every passing second. He had to do something quickly or he wasn't going to be able to accomplish anything like he'd just promised. It was only then that this fight had finally done the inevitable and a leg was kicked out from under him leaving this large, muscular, powerful brown body to tumble straight down into the hard ground under him. It was hard to say if this ground alone was stone lined or simply rocks of an under developed area, but even with their eyes winced from the his jaw bouncing off of this stiff surface they would open again to the sight of a flickering magma-colored jewel shining directly into their face. It was the glint alone that caught there attention, that left Rytlock to simply dismiss it as some kind of bobble, but when his attention turned back to the one he currently shared his own body with it became clear that it was much more than that. Verask was legitimately excited for what they'd discovered, overjoyed by the sight of it, and with a kick of those feet against the ground he'd work this body to try and crawl his way over to it.

Even now the two struggled for control, every kick was countered with a pull, every reach was met with the other hand grabbing it, all the one knew was that he needed this object while the other knew that he simply couldn't allow him to have it. The gem itself had at some point in history slid under a still somehow mostly constructed book shelf that hadn't yet fully decayed to time leaving much of it buried under a crack that was far too small for either of them to slide Rytlock's hand under to get it. This brown body rolled, twisted, but every bit of struggle was met with a bit of counter struggle which only made the progress across this floor much slower until finally those claws scratched against the wooden surface of this bookshelf. Those books that were left on it were lost to the ages, vanished along with whatever information was contained within which left Verask with no conflict at all as he simply pulled at the base it. The shelf would sway, wobble, twist in place before collapsing down leaving heavy splinters of wood to crash across the surface of Rytlock's back, his shoulders, his arms, and even the back of his head.

Immediatley he was buried under the weight of this thing, his body growing still in an instant as the dust built up and the echo of the crash filled this abandoned camp in a sound it hadn't hear since long before Rylock happened across it. When the dust started to settle this brown figure still didn't move, the majority of the wood still resting across his back in what had to be a heavy bit of now completely shattered furniture. By the time that echo stopped the soft tonal sound of a deep chuckle filled in it's place, and under his fingers was gripped a magma gem that filled his palm.

Chuckles rolled into laughter as his body twisted from this rubble, every inch that he lifted up more wood and paper would fall from him and drop to his side leaving the beast to slowly pick himself back up to his feet with a grace and ease of movement that had been lost to him for quite some time now. By the time the stubborn remains of shattered bookshelf fell away from his body this brown charr would stretch himself out with the cold surface of that magma gem pressed against his grip, fingers curled around it while each digit carressed the smooth surfaces of this stone gem. Just holding it seemed to better silence the always prominant Tribune, and when that hand swung this gem into that powerful, broad, and muscular chest it sunk between his meaty pecs and pushed Rytlock down into the deepest of places. The slumber that Verask felt his rival falling into filled him with a sense of both victory and confidence as he finally gained full control over this body once again even while the now slotted gem sunk in deeper and branched out within that chest to secure itself so that it wouldn't be able to fall out or get lost again.

The loud echo that was once Rytlock had faded into nothing, suppressed, pushed down, restrained from being able to access the same arms, lips, and legs that he'd been able to control before. This gem had flooded this body with Verask's essence, his being, and with such a flood taking place there was no room anymore in it for the brown char or his nagging and demanding voice. This gem had given this body to Verask, had won it outright for him. Rytlock's body was no longer property of the tribune, but had been given over completely to this magic user who now laughed at the victory of gaining thiis figure so easily even as the implanted jewel bounced and shook in place against the chest that now bobbed and shook with this same laughter. This insured Verask that as long as he had this stone this body would remain his and the true Rytlock would remain asleep within the blood legion's newly claimed figure.

After what Verask had just done with this body, after the mass of pleasure that he'd been allowed to experience with a solid form after spending so much time as a disembodied specter, the tribal beast knew that there wasn't much left in the way of clothing about his person. He'd done well to undress Rytlock rather well in order to test out this form, but there were still a few garments left that would need to be removed. The skuffed up remains of a shirt being one of them. With this fabric being pulled at the char would bring it over his head, pulling the collar out enough so that he could work the shirt around those ever protruding horns. By the time these last few remaining bits of garment were removed from his figure the now nude beastly strong creature would be able to look over this body once again in a much clearer light. The shine from the gem caught his attention first, but not for long as those eyes immediately shifted to the strong poundage that made up his chest. Those pecs were built, developed, strong, and even as he looked past them to the abs that rested below it was much harder for him to ignore the well sized thickness of heated char meat that once again beckoned him.

"Rytlock, you bastard." He'd say while his fingers once again wrapped around his thickened meat, "How the fuck did you ever get anything done looking like this?"

The question wasn't meant to be answered, only pondered as the Blood Legion Char was locked into the thought of his rival sitting around his village doing the exact activity that this beast was doing now. His head even rolled back while that thought intensified, was made more clear. The length of it, the tight grip, the sensation of his fingers pulling and pushing against that delicate flesh left the char to moan out even deeper than before. It was amazing, but a distraction. Verask wanted nothing more than to continue, to bring himself to a complete ending, but there was a mission, a task, a purpose behind this and simply stroking this amazing tube of extremely hard and stiff member was not part of it. With a single eye cracking open the amber gaze turned slowly, looking around him for any existance of his always important armor that needed to be put on.

"Ugh... As much as I want to continue this. I'll have to wait for next time." This possessing char admitted, taking the painful need to release this girth to heart despite the amount of need he'd build up just to finish. Soon he'd have his time to enjoy this body more thoroughly and had already been delayed long enough.

It had been a very long time since he was last able to wear his old armor. It might not have been as fully covering as the heavy hunk of metal that Rytlock had been wearing when he arrived, but this char felt much more comfortable in his own than if he were to try and find a way to put the ebony plate back on somehow. With his eyes still gazing he'd finally bring himself to a old hidden chest, vaguely able to remember such a thing from so long ago, but with a lift of his hand he'd swing the top open revealing quite a few things. At first it was just stored junk. Old fabrics, notes of various things long forgotten, books holding some details that he'd long memorized, but near the bottom his face managed to light up. The sight of this red outfit once again brought a smile across his face. Strangely enough he'd missed it, it's design, it's feel, it's weight, the very perfection that it was. The metal bands that wrapped around the back of the hand, the wrist, and then several other times down the length of his forearm brought him back to a time when he used to wear this to help show off the color of the fur on his old body, but now that he had brown fur it was going to take some getting used to.

The skirt that followed wasn't simply one line of fabric but was layered. Slits ran up the sides of the legs all the way to the hips which gave him plenty of breathing room down below, but far more important it gave him a range of free motion thanks to the char's natural meaty thighs. The bottom most layer of cloth covered the most of his front, but road up just a little in the back as his tail continued to shift and turn almost by itself without meaning. It was the layer on top of it that really held this bottom layer down, fur and leather to help protect the crotch with as much effort as hanging material could provide, but at least it's heavier existance would keep the fabric closest to his knees down. The true spectical of this outfit, however, was the chest peice. It wasn't armor like what Rytlock would normally wear, but was an open front vest with a wide collar reaching all the way back to his shoulders after the bend. It had no sleeves itself, but the metal banded bracers did more than enough to make up for that leaving those digits of his to grace along the collar and give it a rather playful pop before it would rest back down against his chest. Only a few thing cords would connected one end of this chest to another, but that wasn't Verask's concern as he looked down once again to see just how sexy his thick, well built chest was against this extremely deep cut open front shirt. Each pec had a bit of color to cover it, but that only showed it off more even while that gem slid its way further into the chest, even rolling deeply enough to start hiding behind the thick chest fur that this species traditionally had.

This wasn't a traditional warriors style of outfit, but was still perfect for a magic user like this char happened to be. He'd taken a body, suppressed the host, even found his old outfit. As long as he kept his wits sharp and his deception active he'd be able to pull this off for some time, but what he needed to know was if he could still cast magic in this form. Sure, anyone with special training should be able to do exactly that, but Verask needed to be sure, needed to know that he could handle himself and be protected by his powers if the time came. Fingers danced through the air, a soft chanting in what was almost a whisper, and within his palms this char would hold the evidence of magic itself, a bright ball made entirely of flame alone. With a pull he'd launch that ball high into the air, shooting it out like a pillar of flame that filled the sky above him. This was a demonstration, but more importantly, it was his call for a celebration as his tactic had finally begun. It was time to set out what he'd planned to accomplish.

* * *

The brightness of the sun added to the general heat of the day while this white char guardian was out performing his rounds. He was assigned to patrol today, and that meant walking in the heat despite the armor that he was also required to wear. The blue of it was rich and royal, clearly an armor of some prestigue, but even as six buttons of flame licked the outside of this armor on each side of his chest and abs the weight of it alone forced him to grunt and sign deeply. This was a life he'd asked for, a life after he'd left the evils of the Flame Legion due to their cruelty and mistreatment. It wasn't that he absolutely had to participate in these wars any further if he had become a farmer, or some kind of game hunting merchant, but there was a guilt left in his heart, a need to make up for the wrongs of a people that he'd alligned himself with. So for now he marched in his well earned and heavily guarded plate armor even as it's blue surface reflected plenty of light in its polished state. The layering adding to an effect that undermat of small scaled plates worked to achieve only for the helm to finally confirm with it's slight etchings and display of two horns rising from the crown of the head and up high above him. This armor was designed to look like that of a dragon, to display his capabilities and functions within this adopted clan so that those who looked on at him would know that he was more than some simple char. He was a char of power, strength, and skill.

With that bright plume of fire rising into the air from a distance the snow white beast knew that his directive would be to investigate it. What was concerning was that he knew this was the location a powerful Tribune had walked off to study earlier. It was only then that this char realized that this great soldier had been gone for quite a bit longer than anyone had really antipicated which is what drove him to quicken his pace. it was only in the distance that he would suddenly notice the brown dot sticking out from the fields of grass and dirt. This sighting gave this char a touch of peace as he quickly identified this figure as being Rytlock. It was odd that the great Revenant was wearing what looked to be cloth styled armor, but the markings, the color, the way in which he was able to walk matched up perfectly enough that the char witnessing his quick approach wasn't about to question it.

"Rytlock!" He'd mention, performing a rather traditional salute in the form of his well decorated sword was held firmly in his grip while his fist quickly beat one single time against the breast plate of his armor, "Welcome back, Tribune."

"Kazul..." Came the voice coming from the one wearing Rytlock's body like his own personal live in puppet. Many knew of the white char having left the Flame Legion, having joined up with the other legions as some method of repentance. He was a hunted name, and yet here he was right for the picking in front of this magic user. Though, taking out such a person now would only draw suspicion to his real plan, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't find a way to get to him while he was here.

"Yes sir?" The white charr asked. There was a sense of pride and amazement that someone as important and powerful as Rytlock would even know his name at all, but that only made Kazul even more proud that his name rang out to this grand champion of their people. "May I ask? What was that fire I saw?"

"That was nothing, just ending the remains of a fallen camp." Verask answered quickly, always being on his toes when it came to manipulating others by way of dialogue, "Kazul Muddypaws, I need you to come with me. I have an important matter and will need you to assist me."

There was very little in the way of question when it came to Kazul's sexual interests, the way that he was before when working under a different banner hadn't changed one bit now that he was campaigning under this one. This was something that Verask shared with him, but more importantly something that he could use to better control the white charr while out on patrol. Being ordered by someone that Kazul thought was a Tribune his chest puffed out and his quick nod confirmed that he was willing to run into hellfire if it meant servicing such a high ranking official. When they moved from the path, traveled off of the main patroling route it became far less apparent just what kind of servicing would need to be done. It was a toss up as to whether he should ask this brown furred beast what kind of assistance he needed, but within only a few seconds of them hiding behind a few well placed rocks such a thing would become far more obvious.

With a turn Verask used Rytlock's body to pull Kazul against him, allowing their strong bodies to collide as they sandwiched the thick plate and cloth armors between them. The white charr didn't need to feel those muscles to feel how strong this brown counterpart was to be able to move him so expertly, and the reaction that followed showed under his armor as his heart hammered the inside of his rib cage and his lower point start to knock against it's own armored pieces.

"Tribune.. what are you..?"

The question would never be finished just as it would never be answered as he felt his straps already starting to be loosened. The striking gaze from those eyes caught his own blues, a look of frustration, of need, and every emotion in between. Kazul wasn't sure if he should stop him, if he should help him, or both, but with the sound of that heavy growl peircing his ears this white charr made a very obvious decision. His hands dropped down to his sides, starting to pull at his straps that kept this armor built around his body all while that brown face closed in on his. Kazul could feel the warm breath rolling off of Rytlock's lips, covering his own snout in that claiming dampness which only parted Kazul's awaiting mouth so that when his idol leaned in closer the two would share a deep and joining kiss. Charr lip pressed to charr lip as the white skull would lean slowly to the side. Kazul's voice was muffled as he released a soft and delicate moan through their heated passion and when something worked it's way into his maw this same white charr would roll his tongue against it, feeling it, and sucking it in.

What he was tasting forced Kazul to open his eyes wide in shock, what he'd thought was a tongue was too round, too wide, and filled his maw in an instant. It was warm if not hot, and swam through his mouth like it was trying to fill every inch that it could. Some kind of fluid. The white charr pulled his head back, blinking as he saw this glowing magma looking colored saliva connected from Rytlock's mouth and teeth by strings of spit directly against his own. His own lips, his white snow fur, was covered in this stuff as he felt it rolling across his jaw only to drip down into his blue armored chest. Those hands that were already gripping the back of his skull forced him to return, forced him back into that kiss, and despite his voice calling out there was nothing that Kazul could do to overpower the might of this Tribune and stop this kiss. His eyes closed again, no longer fading shut in a form of pleasure, but wincing down as he strained to stop what was happening even as more and more of this fluid was forced into his maw, wrapping his tongue, wrapping his teeth, dribbling out the corners, and then in a form of reflex his throat finally opened and closed on its own, swallowing this substance into his own body in order to rid the pressure.

Those eyes shot open once again, eyes that were an ice blue only seconds ago jolting into a magma red state and back again. In an instant Kazul would relax, his body no longer resisting, his figure giving in to the man that held him so tightly and leaving him to waiting for any command that this dominating monster might wish to state.

"Remove your armor, Kazul." Verask ordered him even as the strings of magma colored slime continued to the connect their mouths. With the back of this brown hand wipping it away he'd watch as the white charr obeyed his order to the letter, disarming himself of his weapons and armor in an instant so that they could click, clack, and clank against the ground itself. This drew a soft laugh from the imposter charr, but he needed to make sure that Kazul would obey his every command, and it would have been a deep lie to claim that kiss hadn't given Verask a little interest in his white friend as well.

When Verask leaned back onto this stone cover they'd found his body felt things to be a bit more comfortable, able to lean back, able to lay down, and with a slight adjustment to his cloth armor he could slide the flaps that covered his lower bits to the side and release the beastly girth of his thick and meaty Rylock cock that bobbed and swayed in place like a flagpole posted in the ground for the first time. "Pleasure me," Was the order, a voice that echoed in Kazul's mind over and over again. Even if the white charr could defy this order his body was already moving all on its own to obey it. Even this ex-flame member didn't know if this was because of the fluid or the fact that he deeply wanted to do as he was asked, but with his armor resting ot the side and his strong, powerful, built white body already fully naked he witnessed himself immediately fall to his own knees so that with his hands as assistants he could crawl in such a lower position that his thick, meaty, fur covered rump could sway along with his tail from side to side visibly behind him. By the time he made his way to that heavy dick his mouth already watered, his figure feeling like it might trimble apart, and with his lips still touched with that red fluid he'd bring his mouth down against every curve and vein of this already throbbing girth so that it wouldn't simply touch on his tongue, but on the back of his throat.

There he remained for a bit, just planted with that dick fully in his mouth as if waiting, expecting, wanting, and only when Verask gripped his horns to start forcing that head to lift back and drop down did Kazul move on his own. The bobbing in place left behind a trail of that magma-looking slime to cover this cock, only so that it could bundle up around this white snout every time he went back down. His nose pressed to the brown hip fur of this Tribune and then with a light kick from those hips his snout would once again lift away. The girth alone was great, stretching his cheeks out every time he dropped back down, but those eyes weren't on this cock, those blue eyes shined as they stared up at this strong and powerful brown body, watching him, witnessing him, making Rytlock look right back down at him as he sucked on that thick and hefty supply of dominant male tube.

A hand lifted from that white head, releasing a horn so that as it rose high above Kazul and Verask together it would come down immediately against that white butt, feeling his hand sink into the muscular glute with one very solid impact. It was something that the white charr whimpered against, but couldn't hide the fact that it felt so good to be used so roughly almost enough that it Kazule had missed another sound other than that loud smack that echoed across them. A deep growl filled his ears, forcing them to fold back while his tongue felt the heavy beating a throb impacting his the limits of his mouth and throat over and over again. With a single pull Kazul felt his face forced down, smothered into that brown fur which only made him wince once again before he felt the hot burst of thick creamy charr seed filling his throat and his stomach all at once. The loud gags that followed was his throat trying to swallow, trying to take down what he had been given only for that hot cock to get in the way as it pumped more and more in. Kazul was held in place, kept still until every single drop exited that dick and only then was he pushed backwards and allowed to breath once again leaving him gasping and panting for air even as he was pulled once again.

The roll that followed showed this white charr that this dominant beast wasn't yet finished with him, and with his skull hitting the rocks Kazul found himself still on his hands and knees with his chest pressed against the stone structure that his hand was able to press against in order to further support himself. "You think I wasn't going to test out this firm and well kept tush of yours, Kazul? It's a shame you left the Flame. We could have been enjoying ourselves for a while now." Verask laughed softly.

A single hand gripped onto those hips, taking them in with Rytlock's powerful muscles. A forward movement of hips brought a still dripping and sloppy cock to press against that small and kept star so that with a push forward it would be forced to spread. Every inch of that meat would widen this hole, making it bend and contort around every widened part, every girthy bulb, and every protruding vein even as it worked to try and crush back only to fail against the meat belonging to a Tribune of the Blood. Kazul felt himself filled more and more by it, his hips being pulled as something else was pushed leaving his claws to scratch and scrape against the surface of these rocks leaving behind deep gashes of lust and pleasure all the way until he felt the prickling of Rytlock's pelvic fur against his tiny star. Kazul didn't need that to know just how full he was, he felt it in his guts, in his stomach, in his very lungs which left the white charr to lean his head back and his mouth to hang open.

A hand immediately wrapped around that mouth, stopping whatever loud call of lust and need that the white charr had just planned out and instead allowing it to muffle against his brown palm while those hips finally started to eb and flo, to pull and crash over and over again leaving this snow colored body to jerk forward and back with every movement that Verask made within him. Kazul's own swinging cock was on full display, throbbing on its own as he felt himself being entered over and over again with each passing thrust even as a small release of pre started to trickle down over the curve of his own rather impressive member. No matter what his mind told his body he knew what was coming, and with his brain in a constant fog of lust and need he wasn't even sure if he was resisting this at all instead of simply loving it. It was when that hand reached around him, gripped that thick member of his that the white charr finally had his answer. He couldn't resist this, wasn't even trying as he needed the feeling of release, needed the pleasure. Being fucked was amazing, filling, but it wasn't enough for him and his body knew what it needed to do in order to complete what was being provided to him. Every hit of those hips against his own forced his hips into that hand that stroked up and down the length of his meat, the tight grip alone was like that of a strangle hold, but as those claws scratched the stone once again he knew he couldn't contain himself and sat up on this dick, allowing himself to be fully held by the brown beast as he called out once again against the hollow of that hand that stiffled his voice.

In an instant they'd both release, for Verask it was the second time, filling the cavities of this rear with a claiming batter that filled this white body so well that it even leaked back against his own hips, but for Kazul it was his first in a very long time. The steaming white stream burst free from him like a torrenting hose spraying those rocks as more and more gushed from him in heavy and long awaited splatters. His body shook and trimbled, his mind fading away as that possessing substance from other was able to fill his mind completely, taking over everything while what was known as Kazul was locked away, sealed behind a magical barrier deep within and leaving the two panting against one another even while the snow white beast awaited his next orders from this sexually lusty brown imposter.

"That was more enjoyable than I thought it would be, betrayer, but I have you now. Your body and mind are mine to control from this point forward." By the time Verask was able to relax against his pile of rocks again he'd smile to the deed that he'd just performed, enjoyed the sensation of sensual behavior as well as successfully capturing his first servant in the endevors that he had planned. "Reclaiming you for my purposes is only a start, though."

"Kazul," he ordered, "Put your armor on and go fetch me some more servants. I'd rather not have to try and take over this legion without a respected army as part of my Molten Legion."