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Old 12-08-2011, 11:46 PM   #1
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Saving Dead Dog (Gritty Fantasy Adventure)

When Luther was a lad, working the fields with his father and surviving on the scraps left to them after the Duke's tithe, he always thought being a soldier would be the best thing one could hope for in life. His Cousin Tarn would visit sometimes, wearing the blue and white of the Duke. He was hail and healthy, with thick black hair and a ready laugh. His scars from battles seemed more exciting than father's farming injuries. There was always coins in his pockets, lasses fluttered their eyes at him and all the men doffed their caps.

Looking back, in his twenty ninth year, after thirteen years of being a soldier, he knew it to be a lie, most of the time. The food was always plentiful, to be sure. The Duke was as good a man as a noble was able to be, and knew an army marched on it's stomachs. As a farmer's lad, he had rarely seen meat, besides a bit of pork fat, unless it was a holiday. As a soldier, he had meat almost every day, even if it was scraps in his stew.

It was true, he did receive a decent and steady wage, enough whores and ale to keep him happy when on leave.

The problems outweighed the benefits though. He had been fighting for thirteen long years. For eight years he had been a Duke's man, following orders and marching into battles; battles he did not often understand. He had been bitten, stabbed and burnt. He had killed men, a few women and even once a child who had attacked him from out of the shadows. Friends had been slaughtered in front of him, their blood spilling to be sucked up as a tribute, by the unforgiving earth. Such was the life of a soldier. If you were afraid, or doubted the justice of your cause, it did not matter. Duty was duty and you did your duty.

As a mercenary he had more choices. He could hire on to guard merchant trains or join mercenary bands for specific jobs. He avoided the larger mercenary companies, which tied you into a structure that was to much like the army for his tastes. The pay was certainly better than the army, but still there was dead and killing. If he was fighting for money, instead of for the realm, it did not matter. At least as a mercenary, he was aware of who and why he was fighting, even if it was not his cause to begin with.

The worse thing was the travel and the waiting. As a soldier, both a Duke's man and a mercenary, he found himself always waiting or marching. There was always some position to be gained or some place that his unit needed to go to. Once they got there, there was almost always a long and boring wait. That wait seemed to always been in cold or hot weather. It was worse when it rained.

Today, it was raining, and had been for three days now. Three day of walking along muddy dirt roads filled with wagon ruts. Three days of wearing wet clothing and lugging his hard leather armor along in a water proof pack. Three night spent huddled under a tarp, wishing for a fire for warm and something more than jerked beef and hard biscuits for dinner.

His destination was in sight though. He had contracted to join a small group of adventurers at a village called Dead Dog, on the edge of the Northern boarder of the Duke's domain. There was apparently some sort of nest of monsters in the woods, terrorizing the villagers, and they had sought out some help.

This really wasn't a very lucrative sounding job, and he had not even heard the pay amount yet, or signed the final contacts. How much money could they have anyway? Times were lean though. He had gone a full month without finding consistent work and Winter was coming soon. Any job was a good job, when his stomach was rumbling.

The village, he noted as he entered, was not much to speak of. There was only one street, as muddy as the road leading in, and only about twenty buildings. They were all made up of a hodge-podge of local stones, probably gathered from the short mountains that rose up on the sides of the valley which housed the village. The roofs were thatched, which might keep out the rain or might not, depending up the skill of the thatcher.

There weren't any villagers out and about. The night was coming quickly and the shutters on the houses were pulled fast. He doubted they were just hiding from the rain, given the rumors.

In the middle of the miserably tiny town was a larger building with a sign swinging in the soggy twilight. It was shaped like a decapitated dog and the blood from the dog's throat was flowing into an ale mug. It was not an encouraging sign, to be sure, but any port in a storm was a reality on this occasion.

Luther opened the massive oak door and moved into a quiet, orderly pub. There were eight wooden tables with benches, two young and reasonable attractive maids serving drinks and the smell of mutton stew. A large fireplace to one side had a massive pot in it, hanging from a hook and Luther was sure that the smell originated there. It seemed a rather large pub for such a small village, but the village was on the road leading up to the North. The boarder and the boarder keep was only ten miles to the North.

Moments later, a large, middle aged woman with big breasts cornered him. "Not so fast man! Glad we are to have you and yours here, but your not be tracking your wet, filthy self into my Inn!" She grabbed him by his arm and dragged him to one side, and through a door.

He found himself in a room with six massive wooden tubs, each big enough to hold the largest of men. He could see the back of a head in two of the tubs. The woman faced him and started stripping his clothing off, with practiced ease. He did not argue, because his tired fingers would hardly be up to the task.

His great cloak was soon discarded and thrown in a wooden barrel. Next she worked at the laces of his tunic and pulled it off of him. He was relieve to have the sodden mess gone. She stared for a moment at his chest. It has the muscles developed from carrying and using a sword, shield and spear, for many years. It also bore many scars.

He noticed her too. She was probably in her late forties, but her eyes were a pretty blue and her chubby face was cute. Her curly auburn hair only had tinges of gray and was coming loose from the twin buns on sides of her head, and spilling out around her face. Best of all, her white blouse showed off her massive white mounds to great effect.

After a moment, she shook her head and shoved him backwards into a chair. She worked at the laces of his boots for a moment, before pulling out a knife and starting to cut the laces. He would have argued, but his feet were swollen life sausages and he just wanted them off. Finally, she pulled each boot off in turn. She pulled him up again, with surprising strength, and striped his trousers downward quickly. In the process, she almost rain into his tackle. For a moment she paused in her crouch and simply stared. Most of his body was muscular and lined with stress of the life he had lead, but one area really did stand out. From his position, as she stared at his manhood, he could see deep down into her cleavage.

His chuckle brought a lovely red to her cheeks. She stood sharply, accidently whacking his half erect penis with her breasts. "Cheeky! Into the tub with you and don't think you have time to soak! The headman will be around in half of an hour glass and he wants all of you outlanders ready for a talk! First though, you need some of that grim off. I'll not have you polluting my tub!"

She shoved him over to where there was a big grate in the tile floor and started to throw buckets of cold water on him. He yelled for her to stop, and she did, only long enough to grab a giant sponge, dunk it in another bucket, and start to scrub down his back with soapy water. "Now stay still damn you!"

She worked briskly and efficiently, first soaping up the tangles of his shoulder length brown hair, and then moving down his buttocks and legs with her rough sponge. "Lift your arms!" Soon she was rubbing down his sides and moving around to his chest. In the process, quite a bit of water was getting on her and more than once her anatomy came in contact with his. Finally, when she only had his lower front to go, she closed her eyes and quickly washed it anyway, finishing up in record speed. After one more cold bucket of water, she was done. Luther could not help but stare at her nipples, which were clearly viable now, thrown wet spots on the front of her blouse. She blushed again. "Get in the tub already!" Luther grinned at her and complied.

The water was somewhat warm and a bit too shallow, until the woman leaned over and fiddled with some knobs near his feet. Hot water started to stream into the tub, but the wonder on Luther's face had to do with her round rump, not well hidden by her long skirt. He did not give a tinker's fart what magic made the hot water, when there was magic staring him in the face. Suddenly, the rear end shifted one way and then the other. He was sure it was deliberate and he enjoyed the show. After another which hip roll though, she was gone, leaving him to soak away the soreness of his time on the road. He drifted off in the hot, wonderful water.

After a seeming lifetime, a voice woke him up from a dream, where he was living on a tiny farm of his own, with a fat wife and fat babies, and where he owned no one anything, but ate the products of his labor. One of his gray eyes opened above his hawkish nose.

OOC: This is a thread for a small group of 3-5 adventurers to go kill a nest of monsters, while stopping for sex a lot. I know it is a very simple premise, but I want to see how cool something so simple can be made, through decent writing. Think of it as a 1980s style Basic D&D Module, with a beginning (in a tavern of course), a middle (doing the job) and an end (spending the treasure). I will throw in some surprises as well. This is NOT a campaign. It is a one shot and totally free form. You can be anyone, including a villager. Don't munchkin out. Just have fun. Don't join if your are only going to write a few sentences. PM me with questions and feel free to post in the OOC thread.

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Old 12-09-2011, 09:37 AM   #2
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Vine

She had grown up knowing she was different, but not caring much. The gypsy family had loved her like their own, though her pale silvery blonde hair and twilight blue eyes were more than noticeable in the pack of olive skinned siblings and cousins. To her earliest memories she had been surrounded by motion and color and joyous music and laughter. Even when there wasn't enough to eat, even when they were being chased from another town, there was laughter.

The clan made some money as performers, acrobats of exquisite grace, bards that broke hearts with with their midnight eyes and mysterious smiles. They made more by slight of hand, pickpocketing and cat burglaring their way across the countryside. She learned it all, quick and light of foot, quicker and lighter still with her delicate long fingers. She was strong and lithe, graceful and beautiful in all she did, easily the most talented acrobat the clan had known.

She was a teenager when her skin started to become paler, almost luminescent on its own. Her parents said nothing but she didn't miss their worried looks. They hoped nothing more would come of it, but the unusual young woman they had taken in could not be ignorant of her parentage forever.

Vine found that rooms would grow brighter if she desired more light. Her cousins and siblings began to pull away from her, the camp falling silent where she passed. She took her first paramour, a rich merchant enchanted by the ethereal woman, and obediently let her brothers clean out his safe, hoping that her family would accept her as one of heir own again with enough gold.

It might have worked, if it wasn't for the storm. The storm came to camp quickly, changing day into violent night in moments. While everyone hurried to bring in laundry and cover cook fires, Vine found herself alone on a hill, struggling to bring a frightened horse under control. A tongue of lightning, like a finger of a god, struck her. And left her unharmed.

The charge seemed to fill her and spark one final change, her body shifting even as she screamed for help, great shining wings unfolded from her shoulder blades, lovely and terrifying all at once. Her parents explained what they knew of her birth, that her father was from beyond the world, a being of great power, great beauty, and great passion. He had taken a human woman against her will, leaving her to bear a child, a bastard.

What some would call a monster.

Vine's world shattered. While her parents still welcomed her, she caused trouble in the camp, she was too different for the close knit and superstitious clan to accept as one of their own. She caused trouble in the towns, smaller towns shunning her as inhuman, where bigger cities held rich predators, men hungry to claim her exotic beauty, at turns bribing and threatening the clan.

She left, never wanting to harm the only family she had ever known. She hid, a large cloak changing her wings to a humpback, hiding her luminescent skin and glittering eyes. She wandered, thieving from the kinds of rich, powerful, bored men who preyed upon the weak. She helped those she could, trying not to stay in one place long enough to get noticed.

The Dead Dog job was something new for her, working with others, hired to help, she preferred not to fight unless she had to, but her many and varied skills could be useful. And she had nothing better to do. She traveled quickly, sleeping in farmer's barns, what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, and admitting to herself that the weather was turning cold and wet, depressing and ugly.

She entered the inn cautiously, grateful for the dry warmth, concerned about the opinion of the backward locals toward an unusual semihuman. She found a table, back from the fire, her bright eyes watching the goings on. When one of the barmaids approached her, asking for her cloak, she pulled the hood back enough to pierce the girl with her shining, inhuman eyes.

"No, I think I'll keep it." she pitched her voice low, gentle, holding the girl with her gaze for a long moment before flipping the hood back over her face, hiding her silvery hair once more. "Food please. And wine." she dropped a heavy piece of silver to the table with a clink, "And a clean private room." Clink. "And I will want a bath before I leave." Clink.

The girl's eyes widened at every coin, and then made them disappear with a curtsey. "Yes, mistress."

Vine sat back with a sigh, looking for anyone else who might have been willing to take on the task of helping these poor people.
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Old 12-09-2011, 09:43 AM   #3
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Rebecca crouched over the shrouded body of her son. He was laid out on the only table in their small cottage. The death shroud had been sown for her elderly mother, who lay in the throws of death, but Becca's only living child Seth had required it first. Becca, already a pale and slight woman, looked like a wrath. Her pale, almost golden eyess were stained red and salty tears tracked down the hollows of her face. Her long, wheat blond hair was loose and tangled down her back, twisted from a lack of concern and her recent struggle. Her simple shift was torn and bloody, with one of her modest breasts exposed. Red claw marks were drawn across one shoulder and through the cloth to her back.

At her feet lay a crumpled body with scaled green skin. A carving knife was planted in it's hairless head. The creature was only about three feet tall and had long, yellow claws, red with drying blood. It's method of entry to the cottage was evidently a window, because the wooden shutters were splintered and lay in the rain beside the cottage.

Becca peeled back the shroud and kissed her son's cold, lifeless forehead. She whispered a promise of revenge to the lad she had loved so well. Three children had been lost at birth before her beloved one.

In a crude chair, by the fire, a lean, pox marked man was snoring. He smelled of ale and the sent of the local whore. His name was Marcus and he had been Becca's husband through ten long years. In his drunken stuppor, he had slept through the attack and the death of his son. Becca rubbed her bruised cheek. It had not come from her desperate attempts to save her son from the creature, but by from the hands of her lazy, abusive bastard.

After a moment, she put her head against the creature's head for purchase, and yanked out her blade. It was sticky with green blood. Plunging the knife into her dear husband's neck was but the work of a moment. His red blood spurt out, coating her, as she sawed away gracelessly. Afterwards, slipping in his spilled blood, she grabbed the creature and raked his claws over his throat and chest again and again, until he was nothing but a bloody mess. He died silently and without protest. She would have loved to hear him squeal, but instead she only hear her own mad giggles.

When she was done, she tore the rest of her sodden garment from her and then walked naked to the door. She pushed it open and stalked through the mud and rain, headed toward the pub. She would have her fucking revenge! By the tits of Elsbeth, goddess of scorned women, the men of this shit town would rise up, gird their nuts, and fight, or she murder each and every one of them in their beds.

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Old 12-09-2011, 01:58 PM   #4
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Red Pete was seated at the low bar against one wall, looking out across the lantern lit pub room. His lean frame was clothed in the same home spun tunic and leggings as the other villagers, though he had a real silver emblem of a decapitated pinned to his chest. He had thick, shaggy gray hair and a long beard, both of which had been red in his youth. His face was weathered from years of farming and his eyes were dark and tiny under his heavy brow.

He had been headman for thirty years now, like his father and his grandfather before him. It was a position which demanded he settle local disputes and intervene with Mara, the goddess of the harvest, to protect their flocks and make their fields fertal. It was only in the last few months that his job had grown impossible. The dark little forest beyond the valley had always sent a few weird beasties their way, but in the past month, there had been seven attacks, including a pack of seven odd little goat men who had stolen away the Rose the carpenter's daughter, on the night before her marriage to his son! It was that act, which finally drove him to seek outside help.

He could see two strangers in the room. One was covered in a hooded cloak and had seemed oddly pale, when he caught a glimpse of her face. The other was a massive boulder of a man, wearing leather breaches, a long black leather apron and a pair of big black boots. He did not have a shirt on, and his arms were as big as the legs of a bull. He had two blacksmith hammers on his broad belt. The man was bald, but had a trimmed beard as black as coal and thick eyebrows. His nose was wide and his lips were full. His skin had a strange dark cast to it, like stained leather. The man had downed two pitchers of stout with no apparent effect and four bowls of lamb stew. Red noticed the serving girls staring at him and decided to remind them to stay away from the outlanders.

He was expeding a few others, including the soldier who Meg told him was soaking in the bath. Meg was over stiring up the fire. Red admired her broad rump, and she bet over, and though about taking a new wife to warm his bed. She was tewnty years his junior and could care for him in his old age. That would have to wait though. He stood to approach the outlanders who where already there, when something stopped him in his tracks.

Marcus's Rebecca burst through the door starkers. Her body was covered in slashes and bruises, including some obvious claw marks. She was wet and her long pale hair was plastered to her head. The claw marks looked deep and were bleeding freely, running crimson liquid over one breast. She spotted him and started screaming. What had that fool Marcus done now?

"Red! You cowardly bitch's babe! You let his happen! They are dead! All dead! I will have my revenge!" She launched herself at him like a cat going after a rat.

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Old 12-09-2011, 03:33 PM   #5
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Vine

She was enjoying a nice meal of lamb stew, evaluating who was a townie and who wasn't. What the town hierarchy was. Gathering all the cues and clues and bits of information, seeing the ways the town worked. Who was afraid and who was clueless.

Two, at least, were here. A fighter from the reports of the Inn's bosomy proprietor, yet unseen, and the bare chested giant of a man making eyes at the serving girls, eating and drinking with the steadiness of an engine.

The door banged open and the night howled in, carrying a naked bloody woman with it. Vine set down her fork and slid her hands under her cloak, checking her hidden equipment by habit more than because she thought she would need it. When the woman launched herself at one of the townies - Red - Vine moved to intervene.

As fast as the crazed woman moved, Vine was faster, putting her body as a barrier in front of the head man, capturing her wrists and pulling her into an embrace, protective and shielding even as the naked woman raged. They struggled, Vine drawing the other woman close, her naked wet body soaking Vine's soft shirt. The other woman's blood streaked her clothes, spattering her perfect cheek.

"Calm." She said softly. "Calm and there will be help for you." She reached out holding the woman in her embrace, in the sphere of her powerful beauty, holding her gaze and focus until the woman began to breathe more evenly, until the panicked insanity leaked from her wide eyes. She released her wrists, slowly and touched the woman's torn cheek. "Let us get you some clothes, and sit you by the fire, so you can tell us what haunts you this night so that we might meet it." Vine glanced to one of the serving girls who gave a nod and ran off to fetch clean clothes.

She released the woman slowly, sighing softly before removing her cloak to put it around the bloodied woman's shoulders. She steeled herself for the villager's silence as her wings unfurled and fluttered, settling her feathers after their confinement. She wore a haltered tunic of midnight blue, bound at the neck and bare to the middle of her back giving her wings freedom to move. A leather underbust corset supported her round breasts and its belted straps held hidden pockets with some of the smaller, most important tools of her many trades. Her moonlight hair was bound in a single thick braid, its shining rope falling past her shapely ass in whisper soft matte black leather pants. Two long slender daggers of blueblack steel hung at her hips.

She shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and the matronly innkeeper pounded a mug on the bar. "Eat your dinners, fools! Guests in my house..." Vine's heart warmed toward the woman, but supposed that her quiet dinner was not going to be finished tonight.
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Old 12-09-2011, 10:48 PM   #6
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Luther found himself looking at one of the pretty bar maid. This one had curly red hair and green eyes. Her face was heart shaped and her lips were lovely pink shells.

"Ya better wake mister! The headman's here and will be wanting to talk with you outlanders." She had two small, but perfect breasts, poking out over the top of a white cooking apron. In her hands was a big rough looking towel. "Come on then! Out with you." She looked to one side as he climbed out of the tub and into the towel.

She chattered at him and she rubbed him dry, looking away from him the whole time. He did not hear a thing that she said, because he found himself staring at her long pale neck as it moved down into her cleavage. He was really going to have to do something about finding a tumble tonight. After three weeks on the road, it was on his mind a lot. Still, this one seemed determined not to look at him, or give him a chance to talk.

Next she held out a big robe for him and belted it around his waist. "I'll get your clothing washed for you and return it by morning. Meg said to treat you well." This time she actually blushed and looked at him, not that he was safely covered up. Her blush was lovely and went down her neck, as her chest heaved.

Pulling his head straight, Luther thanked her and walked back out into the pub. It seemed that something had occurred, because everyone was being quieter than before and casting nervous glances over their shoulders. It only took him a moment to spot the pale beauty with the white wings. Well, that was something you don't see every day! He was surprised that she had the nerve to show her... deformity, around here. Back water villages weren't known for their tolerance.

He noticed a big, bald man downing his foot and was caught flat footed. Mika! By all the gods! He was about to go greet his old friend, when an old man with a big beard started banging his walking stick against the floor.

"Well that is enough now! Thank you miss for helping our Rebecca." A woman who looked like death warmed over was huddled in a cloak and was shooting daggers at him with her eyes. The old man was staring her down nervously. "Mitchell and Kent, go 'round to her house and... take care of things." Luther did not know what there was to take care of at the woman's house, but two big farm lads jumped up, grabbed their wooden staves, and headed out the door into the rain.

The old man was standing a bit taller now, and was trying to puff out his chest. "Now we all know we've had trouble here. We've all... had loved ones go missing or found dead." There was a look of sorrow on his face and Luther wondered who he had lost. "Now we have some out... guest among us! If our guests would join me in the back room, we have some business to discuss." The woman wrapped in the cloak started to stand, but the old man pointed a finger at her and she sat.

The woman hissed at him. "You can have your secret meeting Red, but if something is not done about this mess, in the morning, you will not be living out the next night. I swear it by the moon and the sun!" The old man backed away from her and almost stumbled, before heading for a door behind the bar. Luther moved to follow him, but hoped that there would be some food brought in. Meeting or no meeting, he wasn't going to talk business on an empty stomach!

Mika stood from his bench and belched. Some things never changed. He looked over the room and spotted the winged woman. One black eyebrow arched. Next he spotted Luther, and a big grin crossed his dusky face, before he headed behind the bar and through the door.

Luther crossed the room and approached the pale woman. She certainly was a lovely creature, with her pale skin and unearthly eyes. "Greetings. I am Luther, and I suspect you are here on the same business as I." He held out his right hand. The tip of his index finger was missing and a nasty burn scar ran across his knuckles.
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Old 12-10-2011, 10:15 AM   #7
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Vine

A door opened into the main room and she caught the scent of clean soap and hot water. A bath.

The scent came from a newly clean well muscled man, a merc if she was going to take bets on it. She wondered where his clothes were, since she doubted a fighting man with that many scars usually worked in a homespun robe and bare feet. Though maybe he did. It gave a decent view of him, at least.

He scanned the room quickly, without seeming to, and she looked away just before he followed the stares to her, standing next to the fire with the scared woman in her cloak. She wondered what he thought. She knew what the villagers thought, what the hundred villages before them had thought. There were other races, of course, the dwarves, the elves... but humans preferred humans and she was something else besides.

The scarred face lit up at the other fighter. That could be good. IF they already knew how to work together. Vine tried not to think about how much fun working jobs with her brothers was. When the person you have to trust you know inside and out its hardly a job anymore but a game.

This was a job.

"Well that is enough now! Thank you miss for helping our Rebecca." The old man struggled to take control of the situation, not the least from the woman in question, Rebecca. The woman who still had her cloak. "Now we have some out... guest among us! If our guests would join me in the back room, we have some business to discuss."

The back room sounded like a better option than the public pub. Fewer eyes on her. Rebecca moved to stand, the misshapen cloak swallowing her, and the old man made her stay where she was. Interesting. Her anger hadn't dampened if her control had improved since she entered. Vine didn't want to leave her cloak, as well as being made to fit her, it had some other properties and specialized equipment in it. Not something for a troubled townie to explore in front of a fire.

She shifted nervously, eyeing the backdoor and the woman by the fire untile she noticed the approach of the third mysterious guest. She looked up to meet his gaze, he was human through and through, but one who had seen a great deal more than most.

"Greetings. I am Luther, and I suspect you are here on the same business as I." she smiled taking the proffered hand in one of her own, "Tonight I believe we are," Her hands were soft and smooth, not the hands of a swordsman, "although usually it is my enemy who loses something, not my friends." She turned his hand up in her own, tracing over the stunted finger tip before she released him. "Call me Vine."

She looked around the inn, the villagers talking softly and still glancing toward them on occasion. "I apologize for the disturbance, the woman needed something to wear and there was little help for it. Shall we go see what our employer's request is?" She nodded toward the back room.

She turned toward the woman, her voice rising so the eavesdroppers wouldn't have to strain. "We'll go hear what this headman has to say, and then make sure that anyone else with information is heard." She focused her gaze again on Luther, "And then we will deal with it."

The maid brought clothes for Rebecca and took her to the bathing room to change. Vine grabbed the girl's wrist, "When she takes that off, you bring it directly to me." With the barmaid's nod, Vine moved toward the back room.
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Old 12-11-2011, 04:09 AM   #8
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The back room of the pub was more dimly lit, and was cluttered with stacks of crates and barrels. There were shelves along the walls, holding a variety of glass jars and other containers.

The headman was sitting on a wooden crate waiting. The look on his face was one Luther was familiar with. He had seen if often enough on the faces of enemies, friends and those who were simply caught in the middle. It was the expression of one who had seen enough death to start to become numb to it; to doubt that he would ever again be able to appreciate being alive, or to give his love to another human being, given the temporary nature of their life.

Mika was already leaning back against the shelves, waiting. His normal cheerful expression was guarded. Whatever had this headman in such a state could not be good, and his friend knew it. They had both seen to much, in their short lives.

He had first met Mika when he was serving as a soldier in the army. Mika had been a journeyman blacksmith, serving the Duke by repairing armor and weapons. He had been a bit lad back then, with a clean shaven face and long braided hair. Many long campaign seasons had forged a strong friendship between them, which extended onwards to when they both served as mercenaries. Mika was a formidable fighter, to be sure, but his real genius in the creation of his mechanical devices.

Luther took a seat beside his friend and looked over to Vine. He was very aware of her exotic beauty. He wondered what circumstances had lead to her taking on such a job. With her unusual looks, she could have made a small fortune in right brothel in the capital. She might even end up at the mistress of a lord or lady. Still, he knew that he would prefer traveling and fighting, to having to do the physical biding of others. He supposed that she must feel the same.

The headman waited until they all settled and then spoke. "The hour is late... in more ways than one. I will come directly to the point. This village is cursed. For generations, we have always had one or two citizens per year stolen away by the forest. Their bodies are sometimes found, stripped to the skeleton, and discarded amongst the trees, but some are never found. This year has been worse though. For the last few months, we have been losing five or six people per week. Men, women and children have simply vanished. We have also been finding dead bodies in town. Also, the creatures who perform these acts have been unusually bold. In the past generations, the thieves and murders were rarely seen, and if they were it was only a glimpse. Now though, these demonic minions simply waltz up and attack! Their forms have been horrid and varied, but everyone has been a Hellish abomination!"

The headman was working into a fever pitch now. His old face was red and unshed tears were forming in his eyes. "I know that you have all given Meg coin. It will be returned. Your stay tonight will be provided by the village. We are not a rich people, and can not afford to pay you much, but I will not bicker and negotiate when some many, including my own dear girl, are missing. Our entire town reserved is one hundred and sixty silver pieces. It has been a bad year and we have lost half of our crops to blight. Still, I would offer you all of it, if you will rid us of these monsters! I beg of you, enter that fucking forest and find where these demons nest! Burn them out. Destroy them, but please, please try to find any of our people you can, who might still be alive."
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Old 12-11-2011, 08:19 AM   #9
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Vine

Vine was the last one into the room and it felt like entering a wake. The big blacksmith even seemed serious. She found a spot a bit removed from the men, where she could see the door and be able to leave by it quickly. Her nervousness was visible not in her body language, but in the constant small shifts of her wings, fluttering and folding and settling, never quite fit to her body correctly, never quite hidden enough. She felt the eyes of the two men on her, Luther's with some contemplation, his friend's with the curious intimacy men were willing to have with women, assessing her curves and their potential whether he had any right to her or not.

She crossed her arms in front of her waist, closing herself off.

The headman spoke, explaining the problem. Her eyes went wide at the number of attacks and that the village had been suffering this long before asking for help. Not only had everyone in the village known someone who had been lost, everyone must have lost at least one, if not several people that they loved. Vine didn't believe in curses unless she heard the chanting (and sometimes not even then) but the unrelenting brutality... a curse was a viable option.

"I can pay for my room, Meg shouldn't starve in addition to these hard times." she said softly. "Can you tell me of this curse? Or is it mere legend? What of the woods, have you anyone who knows them?"

A soft knock on the door drew their attention, Vine smiled softly when she saw the first reaction of her compatriots. Red puffed out his chest, the blacksmith turned to face his bulk toward the door, his fingers caressing a hammer, where she slid behind some boxes, out of view to someone entering. You can see much of a person from their reactions to the unknown. The door opened to reveal the barmaid, carrying Vine's cloak.

Vine collected it with her heartfelt thanks and swung it around to settle it fully on her shoulders, her wings relegated to their usual place as a lump behind her shoulders, her body again hidden in its deep shadow. she reached to flip the hood up, purely out of habit but stopped herself. If she was going to take a job with others, they would have to be able to handle her looks.
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Old 12-12-2011, 08:58 AM   #10
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Aeshallyn Synurthiel purred contently as her cheek rested on the white linen of the soft pillow beneath her, her mane of golden locks spread out wide to both sides. Bare arms were loosely sprawled to the sides next to her chest resting on the bed, and only her small but delectably firm behind was not resting flat on the sheets but rather propped up, suspended by her own thighs that made her knees dig into the white cover and the straw mattress beneath. And there, behind her settled between her spread legs was the man.

Calloused hands had a firm grip on her hips as his fingers dug into her surprisingly soft and unblemished skin and his rhythmically bucking hips sent the engorged meaty lance down into her wet folds again and again, the slurping of her moist channel and the loud smack of his hips against her buttocks the only sounds in the room, sparsely interrupted by a grunt of his.

She had met him in the taproom less than an hour ago, and if she recalled correctly he had introduced himself as Rydwulf, claimed to be owning the mill down the river. A man in his fifties with a visible belly documenting his wealth, beady eyes centering a full face with a double chin framed by greasy graying hair. He definitely was no looker, but he had been genuinely friendly from the start and been honest about his attraction to her gorgeous form, not bothering with false pretense. And like a business man he had proposed a business deal. Aeshallyn had long since stopped placing overly much emphasis on the exterior of her bed mates. She did like a frequent romp in the sheets, found it added to her well being and even her internal equilibrium, but how exactly the male attached to the genital invading her intimate area looked like had little effect on her enjoyment. In particular when she was not even facing in his direction, like now. And even more so, when that indifference paid for the best room the tavern had to offer and a sizable number of coins on top, a nice little extra income besides what her usual freelance sellsword work earned her.

The man’s pace was quickening as was his breathing, and beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead and his hairy chest. His large hands now formed a veritable lock around her slim waist, pulling her up against him with every thrust, and Aeshallyn herself could also feel her arousal rising with every time the bulbous mushroom head scraped against her inner walls. Rydwulf had even been unfazed when she had removed the headband that covered the pointy tips of her ears. Maybe he had already suspected such from her lithe build, maybe he stood above the prejudice many humans held against her kind, or maybe his growing lust had overridden all doubts regarding her heritage. Elves were a rare sight in human lands these days. They had existed since the dawn of time, their oldest legends ranging back hundreds of thousands of years, but the rise of mankind had proven too much. Like a scourge the short lived but rapidly procreating species had swept over the lands, engrossing and consuming all in their path. With their lives that short they lived with an intensity previously unknown to the timeless elves, and at last the firstborn had come to what seemed the only logical conclusion, withdrawn to the deepest reaches of the large forests, sealing their domains with ancient magic from any all too noisy wanderer. What remained from them amongst the human populace were myths twisted into superstition over the centuries, and the occasional lone wanderer like her.

That was it, the last series of deep strokes had done it and sent her over the edge. Slender fingers clenched into fists and dug into the soft fabric of the sheets as the muscles of her back became taut and her eyes closed shut, her face contorting into a silent expression of pleasure and a low “Gnnn” the only vocal indicator of her climax. She felt the waves of orgasm radiating of from her womb and washing over her body, that sweet pleasure that never lost its allure. Rare were the instances that could match the euphoric rush that accompanied it. Like the first time she had manifested the eithél. Elves spend considerable time to evaluate their young, to find out about their talents and gifts. Being in harmony with oneself was considered the essence of a fulfilled existence, and a potential artist or songwriter missing out on his career was seen as a great loss to their whole race. In her case it had become obvious very soon that she carried an unusual aptitude in wielding weaponry, but also that she was one of the few that carried the eithél, that mystic gift that allowed its bearer to enhance their body to even greater heights, turning what already was a finely honed weapon into something even deadlier. That gift, like the mastery of the martial profession, required long and intense training before she could invoke it for the first time, but if there was one thing an elf was not lacking it was time.

As her training progressed to the status of mastery, another aspect of her character became obvious, that of her curiosity. She had spent all her life in the secluded confines of the deep forest, her knowledge of the world outside limited to what tales would tell her, and with each passing year that seemed less satisfying. Even if the lands beyond the veil were by and large dominated by greed, hatred and struggle, she still needed to see for herself. Needed to see whether there were no places worth visiting and person worth meeting in that proverbial darkness. And finally her decision was made, and upon her one hundred fifty third birthday she said goodbye to her relatives and friends and left the forest that had been her home to encounter the great unknown.

Aeshallyn felt warm and good, relaxing and basking in the aftermath of her climax while Rydwulf’s member continued to pound into her, his pace by now almost frantic and judging by the swell and throbbing of his engorged shaft the man would not last much longer. Indeed, with a loud moan he jerked forward one last time and pulled her roughly towards him, embedding his genital into her to the hilt and holding her there as he began to spew his hot seed into her womb. “Oh gods…” could be heard from him as spurt after spurt shot into her and eventually the flood of his seed subsided. His grip on her hips loosened and he fell forward, his loins resting heavily on her upturned rump as his hands were planted on the bed next to her shoulders. Panting heavily he recovered from the well of pleasure he had just experienced, his manhood still buried inside her. Finally he had caught his breath enough to move again, and he pulled out only to drop heavily onto his back right next to her. “That was fantastic. Do all Elven pussies feel that great?”

No longer being mounted by the man Aeshallyn finally let her hips slide down, lying fully outstretched on the bed, and her face turned towards him with a grin “I can’t tell, this one’s the only one I know.“ She continued to look at the man, his sizable gut standing up prominently from his massive frame. The humans she had met all in all had been a very mixed experience. There had been the greed and the hatred and the senseless slaughter she had been warned of, vile cutthroats that had no qualms about killing for a few coins, vain nobles that sent thousands of soldiers to their death over trivial disputes, destructive wars that desolated whole swathes of land. At times she got the impression her kind was only biding its time until humanity had wiped itself out. But she had also seen the other, the good. Generosity without any chance for compensation. Bravery in the face of the most impossible of odds. Cameradie in the gravest of dangers. No other species she knew was as diverse. And just as diverse had her reception been. Still the good she had seen compelled her to stay and to see more of these vast lands.

Finally Rydwulf stirred again. Lifting his heavy bulk he got out of the bed and reached for his clothes, starting to dress. Aeshallyn herself got up into a sitting position, her legs folded on the mattress, and watched in silence until he had donned the last few pieces. “Here’s a little extra” he finally said, dropping a few more coins on the table “for the grand service.” One last time he turned towards her, and his eyes grazed over the beautiful naked elf with the angelic face and the flawless body unmarred by any scar, completely hairless from the neck on downwards. One last time one of his hands reached out to touch one of these wonderful orbs, to feel their heavy weight in his palm, experience the touch of the soft skin on his fingertips and lightly squeeze the supple flesh as his head shook in admiration. Her breasts were the other unusual feature about her besides the pointed ears that indicated her heritage. For all she knew they should have lost some of their volume under the rigorous physical exercise she underwent and still practiced and which had toned her muscles into such a delectable shape, alas for some unknown reason they did not. Exceptionally large in their own right, their size was even more prominent on a slender frame like hers.

“I have to be going now” The regret in his voice was palpable as Rydwulf finally let go and headed for the door, only to turn once more. "Before I forget, you mentioned you are looking for work, didn’t you? If you are half as good a fighter as you are in bed, you might want to head up to Dead Dog. I hear they are having trouble with some local monsters and are desperate for help. Oh, and if you are in town again, come and look me up once more.”

“I might” came the gently aspirated reply as the door closed behind him.

~*~

And indeed she had. Head up to Dead Dog, that is. Less than a week of travelling upriver on foot and now she was standing inside the tavern, the door swinging shut behind her as the barmaid Meg approached the newcomer. Aeshallyn was wearing her usual garb now, a leather cuirass inlaid with small metal plates, custom made to accomodate her sizable bust while still fitting tightly around her midriff, a matching pair of leather pants and short boots reaching to mid calf. Her mane of blond locks flowed freely down over her shoulders, untamed and conveniently covering her ears for now. She had refrained from any explicit disguise, as in her experience the rural populace, while generally distrustful, was far less inclined to all out hostility as the residents of the larger towns. And it was bad form to try and deceive any potential employer.

A strange leather tube was fastened to a leather belt slung across her back, containing a round metal rod about two feet long and one and a half inches in diameter that was protruding from it, and atop that she carried her backpack. The dagger at her hip was the only visible piece of weaponry.

Megs eye’s immediately darted to her mud caked boots, and to the dust of the road settled all over her armor. The urge came up to send her right to cleaning herself, but that stranger likely was another of the mercenaries come to help, and the headman had already gathered the others. “You’re one of them outlanders come to help us?”

Aeshallyn softly nodded her head “That is what brought me here.”

Meg nodded as well, but with more vigor. “Ah well. Normally you would not get into my tavern without putting yer cute little ass into one of the bathtubs first, but the headman already gathered the others in the back room” a thumb went over her shoulder, pointing in the general direction of a door that at this moment opened and let out one of the waitresses, only to close again behind her “and I think they already got started discussin’ things, so I’ll make an exception. Just get outta yer boots, please.” And with that she was gone, seeing to the other patorns, some of whom unabashedly studied the newcomer.

Wordlessly Aeshallyn bent down and slipped out of her footwear, to pick up the pair with one hand as she crossed the room barefooted. At the indicated door she briefly rapped her knuckles over the wood before pressing the handle with her free hand and pushing open. Bending forward to poke her head in she quickly looked around and inquired with a cheerful smile that stood in stark contrast to the sour mood of the room. “Am I right here with the guy who is hiring mercenaries?”

Last edited by Cherubian : 12-12-2011 at 10:47 AM.
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Old 12-12-2011, 06:36 PM   #11
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Wink

Mika was painfully aware of the pale beauty across the room from him. He had never been shy about really looking women over, and she was worth looking at. He could not help but thin how her pale flesh would look, spread out under his darker form. He had never suffered from a lack of imagination.

He had grown up on the Southern border of the Duke's domain, in the port city of Antino his mother had been a prostitute in a respectable brothel and he had been brought up around sexuality. From a young age, he was used to the female forms of the uninhibited whores, and even that of their gentlemen callers and occasional feminine ones. He was a sort of mascot and ran errands for the madam and her girls. They all treated him like a little brother, and when he was of age, one special one initiated him into manhood.


When he was ten, mother apprenticed him to a blacksmith named Dort. Dort was a half blood troll and had a face like a pig and a green cast to his leather like skin. Despite his tainted blood, he was a good master and taught Mika his secrets. Unlike some masters, he did not feel the need to beat his apprentice for every small offense. He had been a client of the brothel ever since Mika was a little one and had always had a kind word and a bit of rock candy for the lad. Mika's mother had been Dort's favorite whore and he would lay with her after their copulation, and just talk. Mika would often join them afterwards, and listen to Dort tell tales of the far off kingdom where he was born.

When Mika turned eighteen, his mother arranged for his right of passage. There was a sweet faced girl, who was only three years older than Mika, named Rosa. He had stared at her for more than a year, ever since she joined the house. Her skin was pale and perfect. She had thick black hair, pleasingly wide hips and large breasts with wide pink nipples. Her lips were plump and red and her dimples were always evident. She had smiled at his attentions, but ignored them, until the morning of his eighteenth birthday.

He had woken up in the loft above his master's house, and discovered that he was not alone. Sunlight streamed through the wavy glass window, falling across the form of an angel. Rosa knelt at the side of his pallet. Her raven hair fell around her naked form. Tendrils tickled the tips of her nipples, and framed her pretty face. Her green almond shaped eyes were staring at his young naked body, which was uncovered and already showed the muscular development of a journeyman blacksmith. His blanket lay bunched at his feet. One of her tiny hands lay on his thigh, inches from his raging morning hard on. It rose up like a tower from the thin black bramble of his young pubic hair.

He tried to turn on his side, to hide his erection, but she laughed and grabbed it. Her eyes sparkled. "Is it painful little Mika? I bet you really have to pee." Tone was light and teaseing, but her grip on his cock was like iron. Despite having to urinate, the pain of her squeezing felt pleasurable, making him grow harder. From experience, he knew that it would be almost impossible to angle his penis down now and releave himself.

Rosa leaned forward and laid her heavy breasts across his face. They were moist underneath and had a pleasant odder of some sort of perfume. She rubbed them back and forth. "How do they feel Mika? How does our little man like my tits?" Mika had grown up watching men and women together, so he knew what she was about. He used his work hardened muscles to lift her off of himself and pry his penis loose. Taking her by the upper arms, he sat her on a hay bale. She squirmed as the rough haw poked at her bare bum, but he pointed a finger. "Stay here! I'll be right back! Stay!"

He almost fell down the ladder in his excitement. Their first coupling was brief, and embarrassing, since he could barely contain himself and burst inside of her after only three thrusts. They kept at it for half of the morning though, as Rosa taught him the ways to pleasure a woman, even if he can not hold back for more than a few moments. He spent the time touch, feeling, sucking and exploring. Despite all of his time admiring the female form, and peeking at his mother with her clients, he had much to learn. Rosa was a nubile, full figured teacher and taught her lessons well. She praised him when his face was buried in her muff and praise him when he suckled at her fleshy mounds.

Years later, after multiple partners of every shape, size and age, and having grown into a skill lover, he still looked back on his morning with Rosa as the standard that could not be bested. She was the dream he still masturbated to, ten years later. Though he did not know where she was, or if she even still lived, for him, her lips around his cock would be a memory that lasted forever.

He fell out of his mental musings, as a blond head poked in the door, looking for the headman. His ears immediately perked up. She was after a job! She was after his job, and a three way split was better than a four way one. Sure, you never knew when an extra hand would be needed, but he had confidence in his abilities and that of his old buddy. The head was a pretty head, and was probably part of an interestingly built body, but money was money!

His voice was a gruff bass and built slowly like far away thunder. "I think someone told you wrong little lady. If there is a job here that needs to be done, that job has already been spoken for." He peered out at her from beneath his thick, hairy brow.

The woman opened the door wider and stepped into the doorway with an indignant look on her face. Behind her, he saw the main door of the pub open and a woman step through, shrouded in a long black cloak. Whoever she was, she started to make a play for his job also!

“I believe this town has been attacked by creatures of the forest, and that you will pay to have that nuisance dealt with?”
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Old 12-12-2011, 06:59 PM   #12
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The pond was to Kemna´s liking.

It was exactly the kind of pond she loved to bathe in. Small, hidden in the darkness of the forest, the heavy branches of over-grown trees hiding it from view in all directions, including above. The blackness was so dense you could almost wrap yourself in it and wear it, much like the otherworldly silence that seemed woven into the air. Most human beings with some common sense would fear this place and escape at once, thinking, or knowing, that unnatural creatures inhabited it. But Kemna did not care. The woman rubbed her pale skin slowly, with gestures sensual yet absolutely natural, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her breasts and into other more difficult to find spots of her body. Kemna found herself thinking on the humour of the situation if, after her bath, she were not capable of finding her clothes. Oh, what would she do then? Go out to the main road and ask for help? Completely naked and with water drops calling for everyone´s attention on their way down her curves? Or maybe she would not have to go that far. Maybe there was already someone by the pond, watching her, lusting after her, and resolving to jump her as soon as she walked out of the water.

As soon as she did that, Kemna suspected her slim body would be forced down onto the ground. Her enormous and amazingly firm breasts would become toys in her rapists´ hands, manhandling them with cruel roughness. Her aristocratic features, thin and delicate as only those of high station could afford to have, would spur the ruffians in their efforts, feeling justified in their violence and wanting to see them contort with pain and pleasure. Her short, carmine red hair framing her matching eyes and white skin would drive them insane with lust.

Kemna´s hands descended to her stomach, slid down her legs and toward her inner thighs… and stopped.

No, that was simply a ridiculous idea. Before a bandit could even lay a hand on her, he would find himself with dry veins. And there was no way she could be blind in the darkness. With a sigh, she moved lazily back to the shore, and stood up. Walking out of the pond, she reached for her clothes. A couple of heeled, black boots that reached above her knees, a flimsy black thong, and a not quite decent black (what else?) leather dress. Thinking about it while she put it on, Kemna guessed that, after all, she would not need to be naked to be assaulted. The fashion back where she was… born… was the exact opposite of conservative. Her dress was ridiculously open and provocative, a black leather one-piece held around her neck by a string knot, with a V-shaped neckline that ended under her flat stomach. It left her shoulders and back completely bare, as well as a very noticeable percentage of her breasts and abdomen, including her bellybutton. She could fit her hands between the leather strips and her flesh, her breasts´ large size ensuring the leather was tensed like a drawbridge´s chains. A second string knot where her back lost its honest name secured the dress around her hips. The skirt had a slit on each side that ended high enough that, when Kemna slid her thong on and did the knots that would hold them in place, the knots were visible for split seconds as she walked.

In these parts, any woman seen wearing that kind of clothes was clearly asking to have some intimate contact with the local inhabitants. And that was precisely the whole point of wearing it, though the intimate contact in question was not always the one the people in these parts expected.

Kemna finished her outfit by wrapping her delicious body in a black velvet cloak with carmine lace around the neck. All the black suited her pale complexion quite fine, and her carmine hair, eyes and lips were like rubies on a jewel. But of course, that was precisely what Kemna Harras was. The latest jewel in a far away prince´s castle, which she had left with the utmost hurry due to circumstances having to do with ungrateful, wretched peasants who did not know their place. Kemna had contented herself with drinking as much as she needed from them, taking an elegant rapier from her former master for self-defence, and stealing a robust horse for more comfortable travelling. The poor creature had broken a leg not long ago, though, and she had to sell its meat for a modest price to continue her journey. All she wanted for the time being was to put as much distance as possible between the castle and herself, and someone who does not need to eat or drink as often as people with normal longevity can get far on little money. Still, she did not have that much left, and had heard about a `job´ in a nearby town from her latest lunch. If they paid well enough, perhaps she could take a boat? Boats were fast, and most peasants could hardly afford to go after the life-challenged if they crossed a sea or a wide river.


A few hours later, Kemna stood at the entrance to the pub, wrapped in thick, black velvet as much as in thick, tense silence. She wondered just how much the name of Dead Dog fit the town that bore it. She spared a last glance at the muddy town, a glance clearly wasted, and opened the door to the pub. The inside of the building was homely enough, if crude. Inside, Kemna found intruding upon some kind of dispute about to begin between a very shapely young woman and a gruff man. The sound of the pub´s door dragging itself to close made everyone´s attention turn briefly to her. Kemna took a breath as deep as unnecessary, puffed out her considerable chest noticeable even under her cloak, and spoke with a clear, loud, but refined voice. “I believe this town has been attacked by creatures of the forest, and that you will pay to have that nuisance dealt with?”
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Old 12-12-2011, 10:09 PM   #13
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Vine

Vine was used to being a very graceful woman. She was used to being able to hide herself well enough to generally unnoticed, even with her body's tendency to gather light from any possible source. she was used to a great many things, most of which failed her around the time the door to the back room opened on the elven woman.

Vine felt herself stumbling, even without moving, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting and her stomach seemed to fill with cold muck. She ran her hands quickly over the more important and dangerous tools secured about her person. Something out there was...not good. She didn't often come across such a feeling, and almost never so strongly, but she half expected it to be followed by terrified screams. Of all her experience with her personal detection system, she preferred the times it came with screaming. When the source could walk among humanity without causing a ripple, it meant larger trouble.

When there were no screams she flipped her hood up again, letting the big blacksmith yowl about the job. She pulled on the thin doeskin gloves she used for work, and eased back enough to slip to the side of the door. Just in case. She looked to the other man, the mercenary, while his friend continued to bellow. She locked eyes with him and then flicked them to the other side of the big man. Hopefully he would get the idea that she would cover this flank. New friends meant they were practicing, team building. New enemies meant they could at least be prepared.
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Old 12-13-2011, 01:57 AM   #14
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Luther did not know what had Vine's hackles up. Sure, Mika was being a bit of a prick, but he was right. Still, he had learned to trust his instincts. Something was bother her and she was most definitely not human. For all he knew, she might have super hearing, or something. He cursed himself for not stopping to put his armor on, but moved to the other side of Mika. He cast about for some sort of weapon, and cursed himself for a fool.

His eyes fell on a crow bar resting against a barrel, so he grabbed it. The feeling of the heavy iron tool in his hand made him feel a lot better. It wasn't the short sword, shield and spear he was used to, but would work to cave in someone's head. He breathed in deeply and forced himself to relax.

He looked over at Vine and gave her a questioning look, but kept quiet.
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Old 12-13-2011, 09:24 AM   #15
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Aeshallyn had just stepped into the room and taken her time to survey its inhabitants. The two strong men, probably mercenaries, that mysterious woman with the eerie taint and the old man sitting on the crate across her. Likely the head of the village. She would not be denied that easily after the long trek she had had, at least not until she had gotten confirmation from the one hiring, and by her judgment that was not the muscular thug that had just bellowed at her. Then at the same time two things happened. There was another female voice behind her requesting the same she just had, only to the auditorium of the whole bar, and the mood in the back room tipped.

All of a sudden everyone except the old man seemed to get combat ready, reaching for weapons – improvised weapons in some instances – hiding, and generally being at full alert. Aeshallyn wondered what she had done to cause such a reaction, when it hit her. They were not defending against her.

Quickly the pieces fell into place behind her forehead. They were preparing to fend off someone coming through the door. Which could not be her, as she was already standing in the room. Which in turn meant another potential danger was about to enter any moment. Which placed that danger right behind her.

Looking like a fool is vastly preferable to looking like a corpse, and so she played it safe. Or rather her trained instincts did. Before she could even formulate a conscious plan of action the eithél had already flooded her body, akin to a surge of adrenaline only on a much more potent scale. One hand reached up behind her for the strange metal rot and retrieved it from its holster as the other shoulder twitched in a way to let her backpack slide off and to the ground, landing with a loud thud in a billowing cloud of dust. By that time, however, her swift feet had already carried her with supernatural speed to the side, allowing her to catch a glimpse of that woman in the thick cloak standing in the middle of the taproom. Past Luther she ended up with her back to the wall next to him, the rod now held at the ready in both hands. And a low whisper came in his direction “What is this about?”

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Old 12-13-2011, 12:23 PM   #16
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OOC: I apologize, but I could not resist this. She has been floating around in my brain all day. She may not be a player character, or on the quest, but I needed to write this.

IC:

Darla stretched out her short legs in the hot tub and crinkled her now wrinkled toes. She was sitting on a wooden box, to keep her above the level of the steaming water. It felt a bit rough under her round bum, but the bath felt heavenly. Her feet floated up and poked out of the water, showing the curly brown hair covering their tops. Her soft, breasts were beneath the surface of the water, hidden from view by the soap bubbles. They were not big by human standards, but on the halfling's three foot two inch frame, they were impressive. A tiny wooden pipe was between her unpainted lips, supported by nothing more than the strength of her thick lips. Hemp smoke curled out of the opposite side of her mouth.

She had a cute round face with a button nose, brown eyes and a wide, satisfied smile. Her face was normally framed by her curly but manageable, shoulder length brunette locks, but was wet and frizzing out as a result.

It had been two hours since she had arrived in the village, looking for a night's lodging and a bit of relief from the boredom of the road. She had entered the tap room wearing skin tight green breeches which ended at her ankles. Her slender waist and larger breast had been covered with an off white button up shirt with pointed collars and a red and green tartan vest with brass buttons. Her shirt was unbuttoned down to the start of the v-neck vest and showed an expanse of pink hairless skin, but no hint of cleavage. The vest did not support her breasts like a corset, but did little to hide their womanly shape. Over it all she wore a long buff over coat with thick brown trim, accented with buttons, in the style of a courtier's coat. It fell to just below her muscular thighs. On her back was a leather back, out of which poked the neck of a small lute. Her hair hung freely about her uncovered head. Her short fingers bore a in a variety of carved silver rings. One of her tiny, slightly pointed ears, had a silver hoop through the earlobe.

She had bargained with the cute, older barkeep for a spot by the fire, a loaf of bread, a bowl of mutton stew, a couple of mugs of ale, and best of all, a hot bath. In trade, she had demonstrated her skills as a minstrel, and promised to play the evening away, after her bath. Most barkeeps would not have given her as much as a rotten turnip, until she played. This Meg was a corker though, and had insisted that Darla shake off the dust of the road and fill her belly, before she started. Trust was a rare thing, in this cold, cynical world, and Darla did not mind abusing it for profit. Still, she would entertain. Playing her tunes and doing her little jigs gave her a joy which was hardly matched by anything, including sex.

For a moment, she trailed her little fingers down into the thick thatch of hair over her cunt, thinking that maybe sex could also be on the menu tonight, if that pretty red headed barmaid's shy glances had meant anything. She did not care if she fucked men, women, humans, halflings or dwarves, as long as they were shy and she could dominate them. The fresh faced young woman looked to be a likely candidate. There was something exhilarating about being half the size of your lover, and demanding that he kneel on the floor and lick between your toes.

Her memories went back to a dwarf in the last town, with a short cock, which was as thick as her wrist. He had been a tender youth of only eighty years and had taken proven to have a long, eager tongue. His curly beard had been wet with her juices, after she rammed his face into her pussy and held it there by pulling his hair with fingers strengthened by years of playing stringed instruments. She rubbed her clit as she replayed the scene in her mind. As she remembered how he had started to choke on her juices, and how she had boxed his ears when he tried to pull away, she started to rub faster. She felt the warm building inside her and reached down to stick the fingers of her other hand into her pussy. When the dwarf had really started to choke, she remembered shoving him backwards onto the floor and walking over him with her leather soled feet. She hand ran across his hairy groin, stomach and chest, before jumping up, spreading her short legs out, and landing pussy first on his face. The memory of what followed put her over the edge and caused her to drop her lit pipe into the water. She ignored it as the orgasm over took her.

After remembering to breath again, she started giggling and retrieved her pipe. Burnt bits of hemp floated across the water as she rose out of the bath. Water ran off her her breast and pussy hairs as she managed to get over the side. Seconds later, a blushing girl with red hair was there, putting a rough towel around her, and drying her off. The girl knelt to do so and seemed to be sneaking peeks as she did so. Her face was as red as her hair, and Darla realized that there had been an audience when she pleasured herself.

The barmaid's kneeling position put them at an equal height. Darla cocked an eyebrow and threw the towel off of her round shoulders. She pulled the barmaid to her and crushed their breasts together, before attacking her mouth with lips and tongue. The girl gave a startled yelp, but quickly participated in the kiss. Darla moved her tongue around, thrusting in and out, before shoving the girl back and grabbing her face with her little hands. "The first show is free, me lass, but you'll have to pay the toll if you want a second look! Meet me by the fire, when everyone falls asleep, and being willing to do as your told, or I'll tell your mistress that you are a dirty wee slut who likes to spy on the guests while their bathing!" The lass looked scared, but also excited. Her red curls bobbed as she nodded assent.

A few minutes later, after forcing the lass to dress her, and slapping her across her perk rump a few times, Darla entered the tap room again. The scene that meet her eyes was a tall, pale beauty in a dark, enveloping cloak, standing dramatically in the doorway. Whoever the fuck she was, she surely wasn't a local, and looked rich as ancient King Finus. "Mama smells gold!" She muttered to herself and licked her lips.
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Old 12-13-2011, 01:29 PM   #17
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When he stepped inside the tavern, from out in the rain, he merely shook his black cloak and the mud turned to dirt and fell off him, leaving him dry and clean even as the headmistress was about to tell him to clean himself up. He nodded to her with a smile.

"Certainly, ma'am," he said, and with a quick wave of his staff at the floor, the small piles of dirt were whisked out the door. "I have come to accompany the warriors who will be taking care of your little pest problem."

The woman pointed him towards the door, where as he watched, a woman in black was about to enter. His gaze instantly took in the entire grimy bar, and any villager regarding the mage with distrust instantly forgot he was there, and went back to his drink.

"Hot water for tea, first," he requested, coughing suddenly. He moved toward the bar, leaning upon his knobby wooden staff. "They are not quite ready for me yet," he said. He removed the hood covering his head, revealing long auburn hair, with just a hint of grey streaks, the same as his full beard. Almond-shaped eyes watched the barmaid bring him a mug of water. It was not quite warm enough, but he held it up and with a snap of his fingers was brought swiftly to boiling. He reached into his cloak and produced a small pouch, from which he poured a mixture of herbs into the mug. The smell was acrid.

It was part of the price he paid for his "gift".

He turned then and watched the woman in black enter the back room, his keen ears tuned perfectly in to what could be heard back there...
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Old 12-13-2011, 11:21 PM   #18
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“What is this about?” The woman who Mika had just ranted at, was now standing beside him, looking very serious and ready trouble. Luther was not at all sure that her metal pole would do any better than his crowbar, but she had the look of a fighter about her, despite her distracting good looks.

He gave a Gaelic shrug and nodded toward Vine, as he whispered back. "I'm not sure. Ask her." Mika was looking unsettled too, and was staring out the door and had removed his hammers from his belt. Each not a weapon, as of such, but the short one-handed tool of his trade. Still, he looked intimidating enough with them at the ready, and Luther had seen him fight before. He realized that they had fought together in the past, but he had never asked why a blacksmith was traveling around, contracting out his skills as a fighter, rather than a smith. It was something he realized that he wanted to know, if they lived through the next few days.

Luther shifted until he could see out of the door into the tap room. He heard a female voice calling out in an aristocratic voice, very unlike the broad Northern accent of the village. “I believe this town has been attacked by creatures of the forest, and that you will pay to have that nuisance dealt with?”

A woman walked through the doorway, completely covered in a long black cloak. Her pale face rode above a red collar. The effect was quite dramatic, but she did not present any danger that he could see, despite the way Vine was tensing and staring at her.

"Do you have need of mercenaries milady? We already have a contract to fulfill, but if you need an escort in your travels, and are willing to wait a few days, we could work something out." He used his most reasonable words, and tried to keep his voice clear and respectful. Noble ladies did not just pop into his life very often, and when they did, they always seemed to believe that everyone existed to serve them. It was easier to take on that role, and take her contract, than to pretend she wasn't his better.
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Old 12-14-2011, 10:18 PM   #19
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Vine

No screaming.

They were looking at her.

The woman in the inn was dramatic, and the source of the twist in her gut, but other than be suspicious, what was she to do? She understood all too well what it was to be judged before you had a chance to act. even so, her eyes flicked to the door toward the source of her queasiness.

Vine flushed, her cheeks turning starry pink. "I don't know, just a ..feeling I get sometimes. Sometimes it can be very bad indeed, so I prepare myself. It doesn't appear to be immediately dangerous though. My apologies." Why did she think she was ready to work with others? It was insanity. She was a very capable thief, nothing more. She lived on her instincts. Was she ready for others to live or die by them? This whole plan to save a village was madness on her part.

She let Luther handle the noble woman, if that is what she was, and slipped deeper into her shadows and her thoughts. She hated making waves.

Madness. This was madness.

But the woman's face. Her anger and fear. Monsters were stalking these people. Could she really just melt away after seeing them?

She sighed. No. She looked to the headman, forcing herself to step back into the center of the room, back into full view of the door. "I'm in. Regardless of price, or what the others decide. I'll help you and yours." Maybe she could steal their wallets.
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Old 12-15-2011, 09:34 AM   #20
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Aeshallyn could feel the tension inside the cramped back room slowly wither away as no obvious assault from anywhere followed up to whatever warning the enigmatic woman across the door had issued, and as Luther relaxed and even talked up the new arrival, and as Vine uttered her apology her own body began to calm down, the mystical essences flooding every fiber of her muscles slowly retreating. With a casual gesture the metal rod slipped back into its holster and she pushed away from the wall.

Slow deliberate strides carried her towards the door, allowing her to hunker down and pick up the backpack discarded in haste less than a minute ago, slipping the strap back over one shoulder to free up her hand again so fingers could close on the short shafts of her boots that had been dropped right next to the bag and pick them up as well.

That done she approached the headman, to clarify whether her aid was still wanted or whether she better be leaving again soon. Not before the formerly shadowy figure of Vine had stepped up and made her bold statement, though. "I'm in. Regardless of price, or what the others decide. I'll help you and yours."

Red Pete just nodded in agreement, a first sign of relief appearing on his stressed face. They were going to get at least some help. Maybe. The blond elf’s voice brought his thoughts back to the present as she stood next to the pale silver haired woman.

“So is it correct what that strong man over there” one hand briefly jerked into Mika’s direction “has told me? Is the job offer already closed?”

“What? Oh no, we are glad for every helping hand!” came the quick reply. Why couldn’t this be a bit easier? Why did these mercenaries have to bicker with each other over a few coins instead of just going out and slaying whatever was haunting their village? "As I told the others already, the band of you’ll get one hundred and sixty silver pieces total, plus free food and lodgings for tonight at least.” Two beautiful women standing right in front of him, and he could do nothing but talk about what ill had befallen the town. Not for the first time Pete wished these troubled times would end, and soon.

“Very well, that does sound acceptable” Aeshallyn nodded. These people seemed to be in severe need for help, something she could not ignore. At least not if her help was wanted. “That is, if the others would want me along?” The question hung in the room as she turned her head, letting her gaze run over Vine, Luther and Mika, waiting for their reaction.

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Old 12-15-2011, 10:31 AM   #21
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Kemna stood in silence, her expression unreadable (except for the fact that it was unreadable, which was a good touch if you wanted to make people nervous). Inside, however, she was processing everything around her the way only a princess of the night could. Her senses picked up subtle details in everyone around her. Like the elf´s essence retreating from her veins. If Kemna had lacked self-control, she would have licked her lips. An elf´s blood, when... marinated... with that special essence of theirs was a rare treat that few of her kind had enjoyed. She had been told it could drive them insane with need, that no other blood was so delicate, so delicious after that, and that some had died in a delirious frenzy for lack of more of that blood.

Kemna did not consider herself someone who could fall in such a state, though, and now found a new reason to go along with the whole `heroic´ aspect of this adventure. She could not care less about the village, and the money was useful but not absolutely necessary. Now, a few drops of elven blood...

However, there was also the problem of the woman who apparently had set off the aggressive behaviour in everyone. It was her the one Kemna´s eyes remained fixed upon the longest. There was an uncomfortable feeling about her that she could not pinpoint, but which the pale woman did not like. She made a mental note to stay away from her as she turned to address the group as a whole.

"I need no escort, young man. I have come to take the job to slaughter those beasts that assault this humble town. I need more money than muscle for the time being." She turned and smiled gently at the headman, a strange glint in her carmine eyes working a little magic into things, and the shadows in the inn somehow becoming a bit more dense. "I am sure you will have no trouble trusting this job to us."

"Not at all!" Came the headman´s reply. "We will be quite happy once you have destroyed that nest of monsters! We have needed this help for so long...!"

Kemna´s smile widened a little, showing her perfect, white teeth for a moment before she softened it again and let someone else speak.
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Old 12-15-2011, 06:10 PM   #22
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OOC: turns out I am stuck here for a bit, so I am posting- expect mobile mistakes which will be fixed later

IC:

Mika was not sure why, but the pale, red haired woman's voice had a calming effect. He found himself agreeing with the headman. "Sure! Plenty for everyone. He found the prospect of having three beautiful women in their party was not such a bad one after all. It did not occur to him to wonder what this noble lady had to hide, except for wishing to see beneath her cloak. He stared over at Luther oddly, as his friend spoke.

"I don't know most of you at all, and truth be told, that makes me nervous. Still, I knew I would be signing on with others. If any one of you isn't really up for this, won't watch our backs and are looking for cheap thrills, say so now." He was staring at the noble lady as he said this, as if he could not see how upstanding and goddess like she was! Mika gave her a stupid grin and reached over to punch his mate's shoulder.

"Don't worry Luther!" Luther bumped into a barrel and glared at Mika, but kept silent.

The innkeeper came through the door at that moment. "Dinna forget the other outlander! He's having tea out here, so I dinna ken what use he be. Ya canna trust a man that don't have an ale after walking about the land. There's a wee minstrel lass out her and she plays a treat. The baths are around if ya need them, boot the hour be late. Ma Bridgette will show ya yer rooms if yer ready fer bed."

Mika did not care much for the tinkling of minstrels and he was already full of mutton stew and ale. He felt a bit dizzy, as if he had just woken from a dream. "Don't worry Luther. Have a drink, by thunder, and dig that burr out of your arse!" He stood and stretched to his full height of 6' 7". "I'm for a bath then! I would not complain if someone brought me another ale, while I soak." He gave Meg a wink and pinched her bum as he pushed past the other and headed towrd the tubs. "Cheeky bastard!" Meg sounded indignent, but her eye'# held a twinkle.

There was a minstrel standing on a table, playing a small, eight course lute. She was a halfling and cute, but held little attraction to Mika. He figured it would take a miracle for one such as he to have carnal relations with one such as he. Luther might be honorable, and always on the lookout for a good mate and tried to find it in each woman's face, but Mika only looked at a woman to see if she was worth bedding. He had learned long ago that men were feckless and unsuited to manogamy. While else had her mother had such diverse custom? If he couldn't fuck her, they he say little point wasting time with the minstrel.

As he past into the tub room, the minstrel was singing. "Young Friar Frank then turn bright red, um hum, um hum. Young Friar Frank then turn bright red, to find a nude lass in his bed. Um hum. Her bum was turned up and so round. Um hum, um hum. Her bum was turned up and so round, that friar though he'd lay him down, Um hum, um hum. The lass slept on as he did play...." The sound of the doggeral verse cut off, as Mika entered the bathing room. He stripped down and laid apron and leather pants on a bench.

The door opened and the maid with the red hair entered. She avoided looking at him as she started to fill a bath and tested the water. Mika was a bit miffed, considering that he was buck naked, but the girl seemed preoccupied and flustered. "Do you need help bathing sir?" She looked relieved when he said no, which was even stranger! Mika ignored her after that abd sunk into the hot water. The tub was just big enough for him to stretch his legs out, which was a blessing.
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Old 12-18-2011, 03:35 AM   #23
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Luther appreciated the innkeeper cleaning his clothing and storing his equipment, but he was feeling a bit naked in a robe and holding a crowbar. It did not seem like violence was on the menu, so he dumped the make-shift weapon, and went to see what was.

"Excuse me folks, but it has been a long day and I need to eat something and then head to bed." He nodded at his new companions, and inched past the pale beauty who was still taking up space in the doorway.

Out in the pub, he sat at a table and waited for service. The crowd was thining out a bit, but the remaining farmers were beating their tables to the music played by the diminutive minstrel. She was a cute little thing, but not really his taste. Still, her lively lute plucking and winsom voice made his spirits raise. The table thumping was threatening to drowned out the sound of the lute, but her clear soprano voice rose above it.
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Old 12-18-2011, 07:14 AM   #24
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The hostility had died down as quickly as it had risen, and just like that Aeshallyn found herself gainfully employed. Well, not too gainfully, but the offer of free fodd and lodgings would at least mean she would have something to eat and a place to sleep while fighting the good fight. She did notice the hungry gaze Red Pete had thrown Vine's way and hers, though

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I think I will no go ahead and sample all that establishment has to offer. A nice hot bath, a nourishing meal, and a good night's rest. In that order." Pete could have sworn she had winked at him when she mentioned the rest. With that she turned to leave, only to use her move to bend in bringing her lips 'accidentially' close to the fair woman's ears and whispering "You will have to tell me what got you so rattled." And with that she was heading out of the door, hips swaying ever so slightly as she made her way towards the tub room.

Paying the minstrel only cursory attention as she crossed the tavern's main room she entered the tub room just in time to witness the red haired maid turning away from the one already occupied tub. Through the dark and steamy air she had to squint her eyes for a moment before she could identify Mika's bald head. Which made her grin, remembering their confrontation back at the headman.

Her musings were cut short by a young female voice, turning her attention towards the maid now standing right in front of her. "Would mylady require my help in undressing and bathing?" The girl's expression was friendly, but there was more than that. A hint of a nervous smile and a subtle little spark of hunger in her eyes, which did not maintain eye contact with the elf all the time all in all gave her the impression the redhead would see it as more than just her duty to help her. But that was no reason to not take her up on her offer.

"Yes, that'd be nice. A little help after a long day would be quite welcome."

"Follow me then." The maid turned and gestured and started to head to the tub in the far away corner. Following her and passing Mika Aeshallyn could not resist a coy little "Hi there, big guy. Looking forward to seeing some elf titties?" before she finally came to a halt next to the serving lass. Quickly her boots, her backpack and the holster containing the metal rod were dropped into the corner of the room, and then she stood still as the redhead began to undress her, all the way 'coincidentially' her back was facing towards the large man in his tub, limiting what his hungry eyes might consume.

Deft little fingers did not take long to get off her cuirass, her pants and the thigh long simple linen shirt she wore beneath, and again there was that sparkle in the girls eyes as she finally got to look at the elf's naked form. Her breasts in particular seemed to hold an attraction not that often encountered in other women, and all Aeshallyn did was to continue her friendly smile and step into the tub at the maid's beckoning. She was not really into girls and taken a bit by surprise at the maid's sexual inclination, but definitely curious how this would play out.

It did not take long and the girl had soaped up a piece of cloth, approaching the elf's standing form. She tried to hold back on her urges if there were any, Aeshallyn had to give her that, but as she ran the cloth over the elf's form, leaving a trail of white foamy suds that scrubbed away the dirt and dust of the road from her soft skin the elf got the impression that the girl's hands were lingering a tad bit longer than necessary on her buttocks, between her legs, and especially on her chest, rubbing with more force than strictly necessary. To her surprise she found herself responding, her nipples starting to grow at the unexpected and unfamiliar stimulation.

Eventually the girl was finished, and with dutifully downcast eyes she asked in a quiet voice "Is there ... anything else I can help you with?" Aeshallyn smiled benignly at her as she slid downwards in one graceful swoop, finally soaking her whole body in the comforting hot water, already feeling it's relaxing effect. "Not for the moment." She thought she had seen a hint of disappointment as the maid nodded silently and turned to leave.

Last edited by Cherubian : 12-18-2011 at 07:18 AM.
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Old 12-18-2011, 10:06 AM   #25
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Talking

Mika was, to be sure, very use to seeing the female form. In the way that a mother does not hide her nakedness from her children, the twenty women of the brothel had not hide from him. They had all held him from the day he was born. When new women entered the house, they simply emulated what the other's did. Still, Mika was not sure that he had ever been more fascinated than he was watching the bar maid was down the elf's naked form.

It was obvious the lass intended for him to watch, since she had passed him with that line mentioning her tits, and then let herself be undressed in front of him. The tub she stood in was only fifteen feet or so away. Even in the dim light, he could see the soap bubbles traveling doen her bare back and into the cleft of her perfect ass. He found himself growing larger and reached down to squeeze his dick with one massive paw.

When the maid bent and was washing between the elf lass's legs, Mika started to stroke himself, as the lass parted her legs slightly, to allow access. He was not a small man, in more was than one, and was already just able to stretch in the tub. He tensed his legs and shoved his toes against the far end of the tub in his excitement, putting the newly exposed tip of his cock just out of the bubbly water. He continued to stroke himself as he watched the elf lass be scrubbed down, but had a self control not to come, from years of practice. It was the anticipation which he savored.

When the maid turned to leave, she spotted him masturbating herself, and her cheeks grew red as a cherry. She walked quietly past him, not quite looking at him. He caught her wrist on the way past. "I may be needing your help after all little one." He chuckled when she pulled free and almost ran from the room. When the door closed, he sat up slowly.

The water and bubbles fell from his massive, muscular frame as he stood from the tub, still bery much erect, and stepped out. He deliberately walked past the elf lass and to the far wayy. Taking a towel down, he briskly dried himself off, before throwing the towel in a barrel and turning back around.

Her elf titties were indeed lovely and round, as they poked fromt the surface of the water. He walked toward her and stood at the end of her tub, with his upper thighs resting against the side. "Now that wasn't very nice lass, teasing me with a promise of your bosom and then not following through. It's those sort of games that give a lass a reputation as a cock tease, and I don't want you developing such a reputation. He reached and pushed the bubbles away from her chest, moving the fingers of both hands beneath the water and over her hard nipples. "Now I can see they clearly." He rubbed his thumbs around the outsides of her nipples.
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