Anka'rinishka the blade

There are many that consider finding a copper piece resting in the street a sign of good luck. Even the richest of nobles stops to pick up that otherwise worthless piece of coin. So what do many do when they pass by Anka'rinishka?

A stilleto, beautifully crated of the finest steel, Anka'rinishka can draw praise out of the most jaded dwarven blacksmith. The blade is incredibly thin yet impossibly strong, the edge dangerously sharp, and intricate patterns addorn the sliver of steel. Flesh, hide, it passes through them as if it were butter. Upon armored foes, even the most clumsy, drunken sailor can manage to drive Anka'rinishka between the plates of the finest armor to strike the weak flesh beneath.

The pommel is made of polished ebony and ivory, carefully carved into the effigy of two slender, horned women intertwined in a carress. Two sides of the same coin, the women appear the same in appearance, svelt, lithe, one arm reaching up to carress the wicked blade while the other arm rests at their hip where their fingers intertwine to connect the two to one. Each woman's head is tilted back, lips parted, as if they were waiting for the blade to feed them their next meal. Brilliant sapphires addorn each eye, and even in the darknest of nights, they seem to glue an eerie blue. Thin platinum crowns each woman's head, forming the long curtains of hair that drape their bodies in strands of silvery white. Spiraling down each woman's body is their tails, long, delicate, coming to a spade point at the balls of their toes.

If blood were to be drawn using Anka'rinishka, the careful etching would bring the life's blood down to each wicked woman's lips, and from there, the sanguine paint would run through the carefully crafted platinum, turning what would be the women's hair red.

Through the ages, this blade has been used, abused, and yet fails to show even a single scratch. New as if the day it were forged.

For some that find Anka'rinishka, she is just a blade. A trinket, a baubel, or even a weapon to be used and discarded.

For others, the sound of wicked laughter and sinful moans might be heard in the faintest of breezes.

Anka'rinishka the demon

Somehow, perhaps through ceremony, a summons, or just sheer luck, Anka'rinishka stands before you.

Just like the blade, she is absolutely tiny. Standing at 1.3 meters (4'4"), her body is lithe and svelt, just like the blade. Looking almost frail, her dancer like body sways with each deliberate movement. Small breasts, topped with equally small nipples bounce ever so slightly with each step and the slight flare of her hips draw attention to her tiny, hairless quim. Seemingly impossible long legs carry her forward with each step, and each stride is done in such a way so that the lean musculature of her thighs can be seen beneath her flawless skin. Each step is accompanied by the soft, audible swish of her tail. That long, black appendage would snake from side to side, the spade pointed flicking the air.

Sitting upon narrow shoulders is her long, swan like neck, and upon that a face is elven in appearance, delicate, angular, with high cheek bones and thin lips that glisten with the promise of pleasure. Long hair crowns the top of her head, tumbling in cascading curtains that fall to the small of her back. Draping her body in silken strands of either crimson of silver. Piercing that veil, two horns, as long and delicate looking as her own fingers, each dark horn carefully polished to be smooth to the touch.

And that skin, soft, warm. Perhaps she is alabaster in appearance. So pale that the delciate webbing of blood vessels can be seen beneath moonlight skin. Those crimson painted lips are always parted ever so slightly and the glistening of her tongue, pink, wet velvet can be seen flicking against those lips, painting them in a thin sheen of saliva.

Or is she obsidian? Black like the night, yet just as warm and inviting. Those painted lips a darker wine color, yet parted just the same, to reveal that tongue once more.

Regardless, her eyes are always a piercing blue, glimmering with wicked mirth, framed in black kohl.

Through the ages, Anka'rinishka has been used, abused, and yet fails to show even a single scratch.

Demon or blade, there's one thing that always holds true. She is the slave of the blade, and the blade calls none its master.

Lights:

Reds: Herms, Shemales, Futas, Scat, Removing of body parts, Vore, or anything permanent.

Otherwise, I'm pretty much game. Send a tell if you'd like to attempt to summon Anka'rinishka or have something specific in mind!.