Dynasty of Dovak

BY : JohnDoe
Category: +A through F > Exalted RPG
Dragon prints: 2113
Disclaimer: White Wolf, Exalted and Exalted 3rd Edition are all trademarks of White Wolf Publishing AB, and official characters, names, places and text are copyrighted by White Wolf. I do not own Exalted and I'm not making money from this fiction.

Session 32 – Ganan (80XP 64X, 75XP, 60DX spent; 12GP 10SP) – Fool For Love *Smut*


Cynis Ganan walks out onto the exercise yard, cane sticking in the broken ground. Every step brings agony to his sorcerously broken body. He grimaces, refusing to break his stride over the craggy earth as he approaches Ragara Hironi.


“Ho there!” Ganan calls, stopping the martial arts instructor mid-tirade.


Ragara Hironi glares as Ganan as he approaches, coming to a stop an arms length away from the shaven monk. The assembled first years hold the breath as they watch the two masters square off.


“Master Ganan,” Hironi begins, “The first years are yours after breakfast. How may I help you?”


Ganan turns his pained grimace into a smile, “Mistress Hironi,” He gives a short bow, “I realize I’m new here, but as you said – these are first years. This is their first full day. The Dominie and I worked them hard yesterday. I heard your admonitions from the library,” He gestures behind him, “I was hoping I could convince you to take it easy on them on their first day. We’ve a test set for after breakfast.”


Hironi blinks with outrage, clearly taken aback. “Full day.” Hironi corrects abruptly, “Arrival and orientation yesterday was their first day. A half-day. To take it easy on them. Now it’s time to work.”


Ganan bows again, “Far be it from me to question your teaching methods, Mistress Hironi, but I really must protest. If you want to teach these fine students martial arts and improve their fitness, reducing one of their numbers to tears on the first day.”


Hironi makes an open palm gesture, “Hmm. Perhaps I should take your advice: my predecessor spoke highly of you, Cynis Ganan. He said you were the most gifted martial artist to graduate the Heptagram.” She pauses, and Ganan bows a third time, “This was, of course, before your accident.” With impossible to follow speed, she settles into Earth Dragon Form, eliciting gasps from the assembled students as her anima starts to glow white. Without another word, she makes a ‘come here’ gesture with her leading hand – a clear challenge.


Ganan sets his jaw, and bursts forward in a blur of speed. His cane catches Hironi behind the knees, despite the rival Earth Dragon Master shunting Essence into the Unmoving Mountain Stance, Ganan’s blow knocks her clean off her feet. Ganan follows through on the motion, bringing his arm round in a wide arc for a devastating hammer punch directly to the downed instructor’s face. The Immaculate screws up her face in anticipation of the blow. At the last moment, Ganan stops himself, his fist an inch from Hironi’s nose. Hironi exhales and opens her eyes, looking up at Ganan. Ganan slowly withdraws his fist, then clasps it in his free hand, and gives a martial artist’s bow to the downed Hironi. He turns, sets his cane back to the ground, and painfully limps back into the library.


Ledaal Ibelin, his father’s sister and instructor in banishment theory, tsks through her teeth at him as he re-enters, “I told you Ragara Hironi always torments the prettiest Mnemon girl to stop you making a scene nephew.”


Ganan shrugs, “There was no need for a scene. I showed the proper respect.”


“You’ve always been a slow boy for a supposed genius, but even you can’t fail to realize there will be repercussions.” Ibelin scolds.


Ganan blinks, nonplussed, “Hopefully she will improve her technique and challenge the cripple who beat her down to a rematch.”


Ibelin sighs heavily, “The Dominie likes you, you know. This appointment needn’t be temporary, you could build a place for yourself here, outside the Cynis brothels and drug dens. You belong here, Ganan – with Verro and me. But you have to build bridges, not burn them down: Bhagwei won’t keep you if you attack his staff.”


Ganan locks eyes with his aunt, “My years as a student here were the happiest of my life. And I am grateful that you have secured this appointment for me, auntie. But if this is how the staff are allowed to behave then the Dominie will have to dismiss me before my year here is through – because I will not tolerate it.” He stares in silence until Ibelin looks away, straightening her clothes, “I will have mother speak with Bhagwei if you are worried about this looking bad on you.”


Ibelin holds up a hand, “I’m quite capable of denouncing you myself, Cynis Ganan.” She walks away shaking her head.


Ganan proceeds to his classroom and starts laying out papers for the morning test. As the students file in, one a Ledaal girl if Ganan is not mistaken, exclaims involuntarily that she thought Ganan had been joking about a test in the morning. Most of the students look grim, or unsure, a couple are desperately flicking through copies of The Doom of Emperors. Only one student appears attentive and ready: the Mnemon girl that Hironi had been berating.


“The test will commence when I ring this bell,” Ganan addresses the class, holding up a small silver bell, “It will end when I ring the bell again. You will leave your papers on your desks and proceed directly to weapons training. Tonight’s reading will be the first three chapters of the Immaculate Texts, and A Leaf Upraised in Vigor: The Life And Deeds of Sextes Jylis as composed by Peaceful Reflection of Compassion. This is not,” Ganan stares around the room sternly, “An open book exam, or a group activity. Proceed in silence.” He rings the bell.


A grueling hour passes, as Ganan stares at the class in stony silence. Panicked students fluster desperately at the assigned paper. The Mnemon student in the first row works diligently, but even Ganan is perceptive enough to notice how she leans towards the Ledaal troublemaker who not-so-surreptitiously throws furtive glances at her classmate’s work.


Eventually, Ganan walks between the two girls, staring down mercilessly, in silence at Ludila. He can feel Danireya’s eyes staring horrified at his back. Ludila looks down at her own paper and subtly turns away from Danireya. Ganan watches for a moment or two more before painfully limping back to the front of the class.


Another hour passes in silence, Danireya sets down her pen and begins proofing her answers: a glance around the room shows she’s ahead of the others. After half an hour Ganan limps back to her desk and whispers in a low voice, “If you are finished, you may use this time to practice your martial arts exercises. Though I caution you against trying to help your classmates cheat at this test.”


Danireya flushes red and hurries out of the room. A further half-hour later Ganan rings the bell, clearly catching the students by surprise – there are no ten minute warnings in this class. One wayward student who tries to keep writing catches a rock to the hand, as Ganan hurls a stone at him.


The students gather their things and leave for weapons training grumbling, and Ganan starts to gather the papers.


As the last student leaves, Ragara Bhagwei enters the room, closing the door behind him. Ganan sets an arm across his body and leads the other arm out behind him, giving a courtier’s bow, “Dominie,” Ganan greets.


Bhagwei starts gathering up the papers, once they’ve all been collected he hands them to Ganan. Ganan takes them and thanks him, he nods his head, “Master. Mistress Ibelin intimated that you would be… displeased with my conduct this morning.”

“Danireya’s paper.” Bhagwei holds out a hand, Ganan rifles through the papers and hands it over, Bhagwei flicks through it, “Yes, I see why this might cause a rivalry between yourself and Ragara Hironi. She’s quite gifted at history: I especially enjoyed the parallels she draws between Anata and Dee the Hook.” He returns the paper, “I expect the two of you to be civil in front of the students. And I expect you to not interfere in Hironi’s classes.”


“That might be difficult, master.” Ganan shifts his weight uncomfortably, “I understand that this isn’t the Cloister, and that Hironi is a capable Immaculate Master. But I also understand that she deliberately victimizes students she is attracted to… and that she challenged me to ritual combat to defend her teaching methods, and lost.”


Bhagwei smiles disarmingly, “And so why might that make my request difficult?”


Ganan nods again, “I will try, Dominie.”


Bhagwei clasps a hand on Ganan’s shoulder, “I have every faith.”





Six years later, five-thousand miles East at the Palace of Dragon’s Repose in Greyfalls


Stripped to the waist and puffing on sweet smelling smoke from a hookah as he reclines on a divan, Cynis Ganan stares bleary-eyed at the letter in front of him. A rare male neomah bobs between his legs, taking the Dragon’s cock in his mouth through the fly in his trousers.


Ganan tries to focus on the words, as the warm mouth bobs up and down on his shaft:


Dear Cynis Ganan,


I hope this letter finds you well.


Whilst my new Shogunate History teacher is performing adequately, one of my gifted students has requested an additional year of study to better explore the mysteries of the First Age. I am inclined to grant her request, but she has specifically you to instruct her.


Should you wish to return to the Heptagram to provide one-on-one tuition, I would be happy to welcome you back for a limited term.


Please convey your answer by sorcery at your earliest convenience.


Your Friend,

Ragara Bhagwei


Ganan places a hand on the back of the bald demons head, as he muses on the contents of the letter. The demon sobs softly, taking Ganan’s cock deeper. Ganan idly shifts his position reading through the letter again. Return to the Heptagram. Your Friend.


Ganan grabs the fine brass collar around the demon’s neck and pulls him off his cock. He stands, his member swinging free, and puts down the hookah, walking over to a clear jug of water. He pours himself a glass, and sips it slowly to clear his head.


The neomah’s quiet sobbing draws Ganan’s attention back to the room. “What’s the matter with you?” Ganan casts annoyedly.


“A-a-apologies master. I’ve only been made to serve women before-”


Ganan cuts the novel demon off with a harsh look, and strides purposefully over to the neomah. He yanks the demon up roughly by his brass collar and flips him over the divan without a word. The demon is effortlessly light in Ganan’s mighty hands, and Ganan feels the surge of adrenaline as the heady thrill of power and conquest brushes aside the lazy haze of the sedative working its way out of his system. The dragon smears perfumed grease over the head of his engorged member, and the demon bites its lip as Ganan takes hold of the neomah’s balls in one hand to steady the demon. Ganan works his cock deep into the demon’s dark passage: slowly but steadily splitting his conquest open.


The neomah grips the divan in pain as the immensity of Ganan’s manhood works its way inside him, Ganan’s powerful hands controlling the demon’s movements, stopping it squirming away. Ganan feels the heat and intensity crushing down on him, as the demon feels the mounting pressure until at last the dragon is balls deep inside the gasping, grunting demon.


The neomah takes a deep, steadying breath, but before he can compose himself, Ganan is already pulling back and thrusting back in. The thrust draws out a long low moan of pain mingled with pleasure. Ganan relaxes the tension in his grip on the demon’s testicles and works his hand up and down the shaft of the neomah’s cock as he rhythmically pounds into the demon. The demon’s moans turn into throaty whimpers as the sensations overwhelm him.


Ganan doesn’t last long. Dragon and demon spurt together, the demon’s fluids soaking the divan as Ganan floods the creature’s bowels with his hot seed. They collapse together, and Ganan breathes hard to catch his breath as the sex slave recovers.


“Well?” Ganan eventually gasps, “Clean me up. I need to speak with your mistress.”




A few minutes later, Ganan approaches the baroque doors that mark the entrance to the inner sanctum of the Palace of Dragon’s Repose. He adjusts his green and gold tunic, and glances at himself in the mirrored bracers he has taken to wearing since leaving the Heptagram. By his own estimates, he looks presentable enough. He considers leaving his cane at the door – it’s been decades since the ill fated sorcery that ravaged his body, and years since he really needed the cane to walk, but he has come to rely on the affectation. He raps once on the great doors, then lets himself in.


There’s a corpse on the floor. No doubt an official of Greyfalls, probably of some great significance to the locals. The corpse has a look of perfect contentment on its face. Two more courtiers faun over a woman reclined on a chaise longue: Ganan reckons they haven’t noticed that their fellow is dead, not sleeping.


Ganan clears his throat to get the attention of the mistress of the Palace’s attention. She looks up from her reverie with a clear look of annoyance at being interrupted.


“Cynis Belar Ganan,” She begins, stressing the incorrect family name, “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure.”


The courtiers, clearly mortals and clearly drugged, sluggishly fix their unfocused eyes on Ganan.


“Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated, Cynis Falen Lorana, but I am afraid I must return to the Blessed Isle.” Ganan stands straight, his cane planted firmly on the ground.


Lorana snorts, “You mean the Isle of Voices, no doubt.” She takes a drag on a cigarette, “I considered burning that letter when I recognized the seal.”


Ganan nods, “Ragara Bhagwei has requested I return to the Heptagram. And as I have no immediate business here to conclude, and as the journey is long, I wish to depart immediately.”


Lorana waves dismissively, smoke trails from her cigarette and there’s some motion in the gesture Ganan’s eye isn’t quite quick enough to follow. One of the courtier’s gently slumps over. Ganan isn’t sure but it looks like he isn’t breathing. “And of course there’s no reason for you to consider my feelings in all this.”


Ganan gives a stiff, short bow.


“I’m just teasing little Belar.” Nothing in Lorana’s tone suggests good humor, “Passage is already booked and your bags are packed.” She looks away and waves him off.


Ganan turns and walks from the room, stopping at the door, “Thank you, mother.”


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