Chronicles of Bullshit I: Samba outfit

Imagine your (female) character walking barefoot through the wilderness, the soles of her slender feet gray with dust from the ground and her body barely covered by a Samba outfit. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a hulking, 7'4 level 138 jumps out of nowhere. Horrid tattoos adorn his bald, filthy head, with a human skull for a mask and spiked Bandos armor made by the most sadistic and demented of Ogre blacksmiths. Held in his heavy arms is an Armadyl Godsword, stained with the blood of a thousand warriors. With a fierce war cry to Bandos, he charges at your character's nearly-nude, defenseless, and nubile body. Your character, however, is well trained in the Trve Kvlt Zamorak Black Metal arts of Majick, and with minimal effort, she uses powerful blood spells to suck the life from his body. He collapses to the ground, helpless, as your character giggles. It's hard for her to pick up his sword, but she manages, and decapitates him with it. Gallons of blood pour into a puddle on the ground as your character stands with bare feet in the crimson puddle. She feels it seep between her toes, bringing moisture to her feet. In a proud stance with her legs parted, she lifts his severed head above her own and screams "Glory to Zamorak!" The blood pours from his head all over her body, and as it flows between her breasts, she is overcome with urges to engage in a Sacrilegious ceremony of praise to Saradomin in order to please Zamorak. As she channels the energy of the evil wilderness spirits, she can almost feel their hands all over her, sensually caressing her inner thighs and breasts. She slowly reveals the twisted beauty of her blood soaked body to the cold wilderness air. Unaccustomed to the chill, she shivers briefly. She slowly lowers her body until she is squating over the body, caressing her inner thighs with her hands. Se can feel the warmth building inside, her glands can barely contain it. Finally, she releases a warm, yellow stream onto her fallen adversary, much of it dripping to the blood beneath her. Feeling humbled yet empowered in the presence of Zamorak, she sinks to her knees, her legs spread wide, and leans far forward, resting her chest and the side of her head on the ground. She licks deep into the ground and carves a Star of Saradomin into the blood, urine, and dirt with her tongue. It is not long before she is wallowing in the blood and filth, rubbing it on her body and allowing the dust of the ground to stick to her. Now lying on her back, her skin and hair soaked with blood and filth, she spreads her legs wide with her knees bent, and the Star of Saradomin between her thighs. She begins to rub her clitoris. The thrill she is feeling is unmatched. She feels as if Zamorak himself is lying with her. She can almost feel his hands caressing her entire back and buttocks simultaneously, his hips between her legs, his flesh moving in and out, his tongue in her mouth, and several lips kissing her neck and nipples. As time goes by, this manifestation of Zamorak begins to solidify, remaining invisible, but altering the tainted area which this sacrilegious ritual has created. With Zamorak shifting harder and faster, your character spreads her arms wide, exposing her bosom to the elements. This is a truly mystical and unholy occurrence. Shifting harder and faster as time goes on, she fornicates with the spirit of Zamorak for what seems like eternity. He turns your character’s body over into the same position she was in before: on her knees, her legs spread wide, her chest and face rested on the ground. Zamorak is now becoming more potent, his tongue turned into a phallus, and his flesh now enters all three of her orifices. She can no longer control herself. Multiple waves of extremely intense pleasure sweep through her body as the seed of Zamorak enters the realm of Geilenor. The Dark Messiah has been conceived