Yes.

Your conscience seems to drift from the scene, flying across the land it is odd, you can still feel yourself being gang fucked but all the while you see trees and land zip by below you. Finally it settles looking at a warrior woman that is fighting in an army against a horde of demonic creatures. The battle rages for quite some time, but it all seems compressed into seconds, yet you see it all. The humans win the day and relax in a large mead hall. After hours of drunken revelry the people all sit around regaling stories of battle when a 12' man with deep red skin, flaming hair, and nails and attire of burnt coal appears in a puff of smoke. He wields a pair of massive scimitars and cuts through the people like a thresher through a field. Finally he puts away his swords and picks up a barrel of mead and drinks his fill. Then he hears a sound, someone is still breathing. He walks over to see the warrior woman, badly damaged and drunk pulls up her sword to challenge him. Grabbing the weapon by the blade he yanks it from her hand, turns it around, and is going to run her through when something comes over him and instead he pulls down his pants, rips her armor off, and ravages her. Months float by like leaves in the wind as you watch her belly grow, first still fighting and being a warrior, then eventually settling to use all her hard earned coin to buy a farm at the edge of a rather large town. Then one night, alone in her little house she begins to scream. The child within her fights and fights and all alone she gives birth to a little girl. The child is perfect, normal, yet the skin has a deep tan as if it had spent the day under the sun, and a mop of fiery red hair, unlike her mothers dark brown locks. As the child opens its eyes your conscience is now looking at that face lovingly.

The years pass by in a flash like watching a movie, yet some how you know you are this girl. Headstrong and reckless, ready to fight at an instant. She/you also have fire in your blood and on more than one occasion something you are holding smolders and burns. The other children are horrible, quick to pick, fight, and call her names, sure that somehow you are not human despite looking perfectly normal, just not exactly the same as all of the other people that live around here. Then the unthinkable happens, one night many years after that a boy from town decides he is daring, powerful, and man enough to take this odd girl that fights like a boy and has no friends for his own. While you are coming from town with a basket of bread for mother he steps out with malice in his eyes. He attacks in an instant, ripping at your clothes and pawing at your body. He could not possibly know the danger he is in, but it is clear his intent, ****. Screaming you fight back and are nearly his equal in strength however slender your frame, but he has a rage building in him that won't be satisfied till he owns you. But it is not to be. Fighting frantically you kick, punch, and twist trying to get out of his grasp when all seems lost the fire within you bursts out and screaming at the top of your lungs the boy in front of you seems to look first surprised, then in shock, then pain, then nothing. The fire consumes him completely so intense is your fury. Standing, now nearly naked due to the intense fire, you look to see some of his friends had watched the events unfold, turn and run. Returning home ashamed you hide the burnt clothes and clean up. The following night there is beating at the door, your mother answers the call, and you can hear it all from your room. The people want you dead. They no nothing of the attack only the result, that you have killed one of their own and must pay. She of course will not relent, stones are thrown and she fights back to get inside. “Lexia you must run, go far from here. I will keep them busy to make your escape. Remember I will always love you.” She takes her sword in hand and opens the door. The screaming of the villagers is deafening, but you do as you are told, gather some things, and run. Looking back only once to see your house on fire. You have no idea if your mother survived and you so much want to go back, but from the rise you stand on you can see far to many people organizing to come after the murderer that you are.

A few more years pass by in a flash, earning your living first by stealing, then like your mother with your sword. Unlike her you find you prefer to travel and move light. Others marvel at your speed and dexterity, moving like a flickering flame in combat. As soon as you first held the curved blade of the scimitar used by a foreigner you met you also knew your blade of choice as well, finally favoring and buying a brilliant bronze scimitar and having it magicked as well to enhance it's resistance to your own natural heat, now able to channel your rage to make your weapon burst in flames. Equally skilled with a bow as a blade, but far too hard on normal missile weapons, you opt to carry four thin but strong metal javelins with wicked barbed heads that were made for you by a lizard man you shared a bed with. They are also magic and able to withstand and channel your heat, and you carry them on four little hooks on a harness behind your right shoulder. Unable to find cloth up to the challenge of withstanding your fury when you let go in battle, you have made, and take to wearing only jewelry. That said you do have a chain and metal plate bikini made, as well as sandals that coil to your knees. For protection you use a gift of another lover, a beautiful woman gives you a pair of golden bracers that protect you as well as chain mail. It is through loving this beautiful raven haired woman you also change your ways a bit, and focus your attention on the help of the goddess of vice. Through her grace you are able to curb your fire and harness the power of love, and sex. Though only an acolyte yourself you now are able to call forth spells to heal small wounds. A second spell makes another feel such intense lust as to attempt to fuck whomever you deem the target of their attention, the effect only lasts a few seconds but is usually more than enough. Your third spell you ask your goddess for is usually a blessing cast at the start of a battle to make yourself and any allies fight with her grace guiding their strikes.

It is through the guidance of your goddess that brings you to hear people fucking. You had been traveling the woods alone on request seen in a dream to this point. Ahead you can make out the forms of four giant blueish skinned creatures you are unfamiliar with. Leaping into a tree your old ways of a thief aid you in getting close, but sadly not in time for their poor victim. But as you see them discard the poor lifeless body your eyes widen, your mouth goes slack, and you know this was you. Reincarnated in your new body in that instant. You entire life led you here, yet you still remember the life of the elf as well, for both are you. Yet the image fades, as a dream, and you must decide if you dare seek **** on these massive creatures, or to simply slip silently away off into the night, to see where your goddess will take you.