Dungeons and Dickgirls #1 (Patreon)

I had a little bit of difficulty finding the right voice and pace for this. My original plan was to start the party already together, about to embark on a quest, but it didn't work for me -- I wanted to see each character on their own, let them exist in the world and have their own agency before being part of a group. So I deleted a chunk of what I had, and instead, we got this. This, I think, is MUCH better.

This chapter is a little longer than I want them to be on average (since they're updating twice a month), but I wanted to take some time to set the stage and give each character time to breathe on their own, and follow their adventure hooks.

As you'll see, there are some different types of writing here. Switching from a narrative to a "DM's" voice is something that's fairly trivial in this installment, but should become more important later on when you guys start making more decisions. Just test running it now to see how it works.

Anyway, tell me what you think everyone! And those of you with seats at the table, please describe your desired actions in the comments below. I might be skipping the poll this time and leaving it for next time, since I can't really think of any major behind-the-screen choices there are to be made right now. Anyway, here goes.

Notes:

- Official character sheets can be found on Myth-Weavers (if the piece of shit works), but this seems to be working at the moment.
--- Aleathira
--- Kydozi
--- Emeera
--- Nyx 

- I picture Norah as Sarina Valentina for some reason.

- Edisseion is pronounced "eh-diss-AY-on"

- Added youtube links are music that fits certain moods. I try to use them sparingly but if you want I can use more. Listen if you want, or if you don't... well, don't, I guess.

___________________________________

THE ADVENTURE BEGINS....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLoz54XYgWE 

Lakeheart.‭ ‬The beating pulse of trade at the core of the continent,‭ ‬its veins reaching out across roads and rivers like snaky tendrils.‭ ‬Surrounded by recently-reclaimed flood plains and increasingly dense forests,‭ ‬no coin makes it from one coast to the other without first touching down in the thriving city.‭ ‬Business,‭ ‬of course,‭ ‬could be as innocent as the trading of resources and luxuries,‭ ‬as dark as smuggling or crime,‭ ‬or as thrilling as adventure.

For four such adventurers,‭ ‬Lakeheart is home,‭ ‬or at least serving as such for the time being.‭ ‬After all,‭ ‬a city where anyone from any corner of Urril could find welcome was bound to attract some...‭ ‬interesting people.‭ ‬That the city specifically kept itself racially and religiously unbound only went further to foster this,‭ ‬drawing in outcasts and exiles from all around.‭ ‬Exiles such as....

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Aleathira snapped awake with a start,‭ ‬her large,‭ ‬almond-shaped eyes bolting open.‭ ‬The elf’s restful trance had not been,‭ ‬perhaps,‭ ‬as restful as it should have been‭ ‬--‭ ‬instead plagued with dark thoughts,‭ ‬something between a dream and a memory.‭ ‬A memory of something that had happened,‭ ‬something strange,‭ ‬something she could not quite remember beyond the fogged edges of her mind.

‭“‬Rrrghh,‭” ‬she murmured,‭ ‬blinking her eyes wearily and sitting up,‭ ‬perched at the edge of her bed now and resting her feet lightly on the bare wooden floor beneath it.‭ ‬The weak,‭ ‬pale glow of early morning was struggling to bleed through her single,‭ ‬filth-encrusted window,‭ ‬sending strands of light lancing through her room,‭ ‬enough for her keen elven eyes to still easily see.‭ ‬Struggling to stand,‭ ‬her foot bumped against the jug of halfling ghostwine she’d bought and nearly finished the night before,‭ ‬sending it on a rolling journey to the other side of her room at the tavern.‭ ‬Fuck,‭ ‬she couldn’t even remember the name.‭ ‬The Drunken Cup‭? ‬Something like that.‭ ‬Something forgettable.

The little jug rolled its way all the way to her room’s door,‭ ‬knocking into it with a sharp thud.‭ ‬A long moment of silence followed,‭ ‬and the wood elf inhaled deeply through her nostrils,‭ ‬running one hand through her shoulder-length mop of fine,‭ ‬sable hair,‭ ‬brushing a lock of it from her eyes that was still wet with alcohol-reeking drool.‭ “‬Better get that,‭” ‬she growled in resignation,‭ ‬cracking her neck from side to side and finally standing up after a brief wobble.

Rolling a cramp out of one scarred shoulder,‭ ‬she took a moment to stretch,‭ ‬naked as the day she was born and showing off the curved,‭ ‬muscled angles of her body to the empty room around her.‭ ‬She’d made her way to Lakeheart just two nights before,‭ ‬bloody and snarling,‭ ‬still unable to remember how she’d made her way here from the elven lands so very far south of here.‭ ‬Short on coin and friends alike,‭ ‬the dark,‭ ‬yawning maw of the city’s slums‭ ‬--‭ ‬known among locals as Bastard Hill‭ ‬--‭ ‬had welcomed her like the jaws of a hungry wolf.‭ ‬Now here she was,‭ ‬on the top floor of a creaking old inn,‭ ‬hungover and lurking at the precipice of whether she wanted to remember whatever had happened to her,‭ ‬whatever she’d forgotten...‭ ‬or whether she’d rather just forget it entirely.

One unsteady step,‭ ‬then another,‭ ‬brought Aleathira to the other end of the room,‭ ‬leaning down to pick up the jug and immediately uncorking it,‭ ‬bringing it to her lips and nearly reeling from the bitter spiciness that assaulted her nostrils.‭ ‬Powering through it,‭ ‬she poured the remnants of the ghostwine down her throat,‭ ‬hissing from the sharp sting of it,‭ ‬and looking back down to the splintering wood floor in front of the locked door where she’d picked the jug back up.‭ ‬Just where it had been,‭ ‬she now saw,‭ ‬was a note‭ ‬--‭ ‬slid under the door during the night,‭ ‬maybe.

‭“‬Huh,‭” ‬the wood elf said,‭ ‬tossing the now-empty jug onto the bed behind her and reaching down,‭ ‬still naked as she plucked the slip of crude vellum from beneath the door.‭ ‬Uncrinkling the thick sheet of paper,‭ ‬she found it to be unsealed,‭ ‬and opened it to reveal clear,‭ ‬legible Common:

‭= ‬ATTENTION TO ANY AND ALL WHO LIKES SHINY GOLD COINS‭!

Seeking mercenaries for business opportunity‭! ‬Meet by the north gate at the sun’s height for a week-long caravan escort job.‭ ‬Travel and see new places,‭ ‬make new friends.‭ ‬Pay is one-hundred and fifty‭ (‬150‭) ‬gold pieces up front,‭ ‬with another four-hundred‭ (‬400‭) ‬when the job is completed at the end of the week and the caravan returns to Lakeheart.

Offer is suggested for experienced mercenaries.‭ ‬BRING YOUR OWN DAMN WEAPONS,‭ ‬or if you’re one of those dirty spellcasters,‭ ‬just do whatever it is you do,‭ ‬you weird bastard.‭ ‬Bargestreet Textiles thanks you in advance.‭ =

--‭ ‬Mr.‭ ‬Sign

Not often one saw an open casting call for mercenaries,‭ ‬was it‭? ‬Certainly not where Aleathira had come from.‭ ‬Was this such a common practice in human lands‭? ‬Could Bargestreet Textiles‭ ‬--‭ ‬a rather innocent sounding enterprise for one requiring so much security‭ ‬--‭ ‬not afford its own payrolled guards‭?

The warrior glanced backwards,‭ ‬to the corner beside her bed where her two blades lay across one another,‭ ‬curved weapons of elven make,‭ ‬holdovers from her life back home,‭ ‬before...‭ ‬before whatever had happened,‭ ‬had happened.‭ ‬Was it worth picking them back up for a little gold,‭ ‬when the bottle was so much more comforting‭? ‬Maybe.‭ ‬Maybe not.‭ ‬There was a whole city out there to explore...‭ ‬and an innumerable amount of new and exciting ways to drown out her nightmares.

‭[ ‬Aleathira,‭ ‬it’s early morning.‭ ‬You have fourteen gold pieces to your name,‭ ‬along with some simple leather clothing,‭ ‬a pair of scimitars,‭ ‬a longbow,‭ ‬and eighteen arrows.‭ ‬You’re in the slums of Lakeheart,‭ ‬and you need to either vacate your room or pay for another night by noontime‭ ‬--‭ ‬also the meeting time for Mr.‭ ‬Sign’s‭ “‬caravan job‭” ‬at the north gate.‭ ‬You’re naked and hungover,‭ ‬a stranger in a huge city.‭ ‬What do you do‭?‬ ]

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

By comparison,‭ ‬the Dancing Dagger was a much nicer inn.‭ ‬Not to say that it was especially opulent or impressive‭ ‬--‭ ‬but in the few nights she’d stayed,‭ ‬Kydozi had yet to see one rat and only two roaches,‭ ‬setting it apart clearly from the stirge-infested hovels that dotted Bastard Hill.‭ ‬The half-orc lazily stretched in her bed without opening her eyes,‭ ‬popping sounds rippling along her back and through her sore muscles.

For once,‭ ‬they weren’t even sore from combat,‭ ‬or even training,‭ ‬but from something much more fun.‭ ‬Something Kyddie was soon reminded of when she felt the warm body at her side stretch and cling,‭ ‬roused by her awakening.‭ ‬Letting her eyes drift open,‭ ‬she looked down to the soft,‭ ‬curvaceous figure lightly draped across her own‭ ‬--‭ ‬human,‭ ‬naked as Kyddie was,‭ ‬with loose curls of wine-red hair spilling down around the half-orc’s shoulder.‭ ‬Right.‭ ‬The innkeeper.

‭“‬Mmmnh--‭ ‬hey...‭” ‬the redhead murmured blearily,‭ ‬not quite opening her eyes yet as she immediately began to paw at Kydozi through the sheets of their shared bed‭ ‬--‭ ‬the bed that the innkeeper had ensured her for the past few nights as long as she was properly‭ “‬recompensed.‭” ‬Norah,‭ ‬that was her name.‭ ‬Pretty,‭ ‬amazing breasts‭ (‬currently squashed against Kyddie’s side‭)‬,‭ ‬outrageous hips,‭ ‬though somewhat difficult to spend a lot of time with.‭ “‬I had a lot of fun last night...‭ ‬again,‭” ‬the human purred,‭ ‬nuzzling into one of Kydozi’s full breasts while her hand groped the other,‭ ‬wrapping her lips lewdly around one dusky,‭ ‬pierced nipple.

‭“‬Glad to hear that,‭” ‬Kyddie murmured back,‭ ‬blinking the sleep from her mind as the pale,‭ ‬hippy innkeeper squished harder against her.‭ “‬I’d hate to have a dissatisfied customer,‭ ‬after all.‭”

“Oh,‭ ‬not a chance of that,‭ ‬baby.‭ ‬Not a chance,‭” ‬the warm purr that emanated from Norah’s playfully kissing and suckling lips was a little more...‭ ‬intensely possessive than Kyddie might have liked,‭ ‬and sadly it didn’t look like deflecting with humor was going to help.‭ ‬That became increasingly clear when the redhead’s restlessness apparently grew unbearable,‭ ‬and she rolled over to climb into the half-orc’s lap,‭ ‬squishing her soft backside down along the thick,‭ ‬soft slab of Kydozi’s girlcock.‭ “‬In fact...‭ ‬maybe I can throw in another night for free if you give mommy some fun right now,‭ ‬huh‭? ‬Little morning pick-me-up,‭ ‬yeah‭? ‬Before work‭?”

“I,‭ ‬um...‭” ‬Kydozi swallowed hard as she felt the supple softness of Norah’s rear‭ ‬nestling into her lap,‭ ‬the innkeeper spreading her plush thighs to playfully show off her own much smaller girlcock.‭ “‬I should be going,‭ ‬shouldn’t I...‭? ‬I have things I need to take care of.‭ ‬I have duties.‭”

“Ohh‭? ‬Do you‭? ‬Is that why you always scurry out of here so quickly in the mornings‭?” ‬the innkeeper inquired,‭ ‬lightly grinding her ass back and forth in the half-orc’s lap,‭ ‬forcing it to involuntarily start stiffening as it was trapped under the weight of Norah’s smooth butt.‭ “‬What‭ ‬are your duties,‭ ‬anyway‭? ‬I know you fought in the Grovewar,‭ ‬but that was...‭ ‬what,‭ ‬ten years ago now‭? ‬Oooh‭! ‬You must mean the attacks at the outskirts‭; ‬is that what they have you dealing with,‭ ‬sweetie‭?”

Rather than letting up,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬she plants her feet more firmly at either side of the bed,‭ ‬sandwiching the young ex-soldier’s swelling cock firmly in the pale cleft of her soft ass,‭ ‬pawing at one of her own big,‭ ‬round tits.‭ “‬Well,‭ ‬I think they can leave you some time with me so we can have a little fun.‭ ‬Then maybe again...‭ ‬and again...‭ ‬until I get my fill of hot orc cock.‭”

The last two words stung Kyddie’s ears.‭ ‬Orc cock.‭ ‬Not even half-orc.

Being fetishized for her race was such an...‭ ‬uncomfortable feeling,‭ ‬though it had gotten her a number of free nights stay at the Dancing Dagger.‭ ‬Not to mention more romps with Norah than she cared to reflect on,‭ ‬but that was a mixed bag‭ ‬--‭ ‬fun at the time,‭ ‬but often accompanied by an odd feeling of shame afterwards.‭ ‬Then again,‭ ‬Kyddie‭ ‬did need a place to stay,‭ ‬and a soldier’s pension‭ (‬especially one who’d served in an off-the-books legion of low-income teens nearly a decade ago‭) ‬wasn’t exactly great.‭ ‬Maybe she could get free breakfast out of the deal‭?

[ Kydozi,‭ ‬it’s early morning.‭ ‬You are currently pinned by the lustful ass of a thicc innkeeper who nonetheless makes you feel a bit uncomfortable with her possessive nature and vague racism.‭ ‬You have nine gold,‭ ‬your glaive,‭ ‬your suit of armor,‭ ‬and a potential excuse to get out of this situation should you choose to.‭ ‬You grew up in Lakeheart and know the lay of the city pretty well,‭ ‬but haven’t heard about attacks on the outskirts until just now.‭ ‬What do you do‭?‬ ]

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“I did not expect to see you awake this early, child,” the wizened voice of Master Hacknammer was preceded by the gentle click of the gnome’s cane, tapping rhythmically along the smooth tile floor of the Edisseion’s training room. “We children of the material only have so many hours under each sun that we may practice... or are you trying to keep up with the elven students?” A small smile crinkled the man’s withered lips, and he set his cane down between his feet, leaning forward on it. At a glance, a layman or rambunctious apprentice might take Master Hacknammer for nothing more than a shriveled old gnome, a threat to no one. That wasn’t something he minded.

“It would be unwise to push myself past my limits, Master.” The speaker inhaled, her back still facing the gnome. She was human and centuries younger than he, her soft yellow hair still wet from her morning ablutions. She faced the window, which took up the entirety of this room’s wall -- letting her gaze out among the rolling streams and gardens that swept across the Edisseion, made it the oasis of peace and tranquility that it was. Balancing her mind, one leg drifted up, bending her knee and holding it perpendicular to the other leg before finally lowering it back to the floor. Her hands drifted down to her sides, and she let her mind return to the present, away from her meditation and her exercise so that she could properly acknowledge and respect her senior. The girl’s name was Emeera.

“And what is it we value so greatly in this place, my child?” Hacknammer continued, tapping his cane against the floor again and looking up at his young student, who turned to face him. She was dressed lightly for her morning exercises -- wide bandages wrapped around her nearly-flat chest, simple linen shorts covering her from the waist down, and nothing else, leaving much of her slender figure exposed.

“The Wisdom to understand the self; the Understanding to remain tranquil; the Tranquility to maintain control. Control of our soul keeps us free from what would exert control over us,” Emeera recited, her pale blue eyes slowly opening to face her tiny mentor. Control over the self, and of others, was key in the teachings of the Edisseion -- both a personal philosophy and a battlefield strategy. The former was something Emmy still struggled with, while the latter was something she found herself woefully inexperienced with. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Master?”

“Very good, very good, very good,” Hacknammer smiled, his gem-like green eyes twinkling as he took a few short steps forward, slowly circling his pupil. His enormous round ears and tufts of wild white hair both bobbled as he walked, once again punctuated by the gentle click of his cane. “You’ve studied here for quite some time now, haven’t you?”

“Since I was a young girl, Master,” Emmy answered, swallowing hard. These lines of vague questioning always set her on edge, and she could already feel nervous energy bubbling back up in her chest after having been so recently dispelled by meditation. “What is-- I mean-- why do you--?”

“There comes a time in every young acolyte’s life when the monastery offers them little more -- without the opportunity to use what they have learned,” the old gnome interrupted smoothly, granting Emeera mercy from her own stammering. “How much would you say you have learned in the past year?”

“Um!” the human blinked, trying to hold back another nervous swallow as saliva began to pool in her throat. “Well, I’ve been getting so much practice, in my old studies, and....”

“Perhaps,” Hacknammer suggested, his voice still soft and kind. “It is time that you used what you have learned. In my own meditations I sense... more and more...” his voice lowered, growing a bit sharper now, more husky, earthy. “...A darkness around Lakeheart, swimming around it like hungry fish. I feel a great worry beginning to overtake me.”

“What would you have of me, Master?” Emmy asked, keeping her hands at her sides, keeping the illusion of discipline if nothing else.

“The gifts of incense we receive so often from Sister Juu did not come this month. It could be nothing, of course... but the life of a traveling monk can be such a dangerous one. Perhaps it is time you left the Edisseion, with my blessing. Try to find her in whatever way you can. Reach out with your mind -- with your feelings -- and try to sense the source of this darkness.”

[ Emeera, it’s early morning. With your cleaning and meditations finished, you find yourself presented with the suggestion that it’s time for you to leave the Edisseion, where you have spent the last decade of your life. You’ve been given a job, of course, but aren’t beholden to it -- though you do get the sense that Hacknammer’s suggestion is more firm than he lets on. You have your quarterstaff, monk’s robe, a holy symbol, some simple traveling and prayer supplies, and fifteen gold. While you were born in Lakeheart, you spent much of your life in the temple, and the city without is mostly foreign to you. What do you do? ]

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBATrLRWySg 

The sound of lute and fiddle, and the sensation of ale being poured down her shirt, was enough to send Nyx Sparklegem shooting awake, spluttering and promptly tumbling off of her chair and onto the beer-stained wooden floor below.

“The gnome’s awake!” came one jeering voice as the little redhead stumbled to her feet, though she only found a single boot between her and the floor. The voice came from one of three young women now surrounding her -- this one was a half-elf, though her two “friends” were a human and a rather big halfling. Tallfellow, maybe?

“Bout time,” the halfling grinned, leering through the dark kohl makeup surrounding both icy green eyes. She, along with the other two, was covered from head to toe in scrolling black tattoos, visible under the skimpy black leather scraps of clothing the girls wore. “Now why don’t you tell us where you hid it?”

Hid it? Huh. This didn’t seem to be the kind of situation Nyx found uncommon, but she was really gonna need some more details if she was gonna know what she took and what she did with it. The hangover wasn‘t helping. This was clearly a morning on which she had had considerably too much fun the night before. “Why don’t you give me a cavity search and find out?” the gnome chuckled, scanning the tavern (for it was indeed a tavern she was in) for her missing boot. Hanging from the mandible of a stuffed umber hulk head on the far wall, it was too far away to worry about right now.

“Don’t tempt me, gnome bitch,” the human growled, the biggest of the three, sporting gorgeously big tits that looked like they were about to explode out the top of her tight-fitting leather jerkin. “Never fucked a gnome before. They as tight as they say?”

“Yes, but we’re also extremely stretchy,” Nyx said quickly, backpedaling a step only to find the half-elf behind her now. “With whatever little toothpick you’re packing in those too-small pants, I’d suggest you bring a friend.”

“Oh, you got jokes, huh? Maybe you should shove ‘em up your little gnome ass, so Moja’s cock can have some company,” the pigtailed halfling girl snarled. “Or you could tell us where the fucking bottle is.”

“Was that a joke? Maybe it went over my head,” Nyx grinned as she was lifted up by the collar of her half-buttoned white top by the human (Moja, apparently), her legs dangling beneath her and her other boot unceremoniously falling off. “You know what they say; you should never tell puns to kleptomaniacs. We -- pfnfhaha-- we always take everything literally.” Pursing her lips together, her little body heaved and twitched in a failing attempt not to laugh at her own joke. The little thief held her hands up above her head in a sign of feigned surrender, biting down on her lower lip.

“Alright, that’s it,” Moja growled, staring the little gnome down with big, dark eyes, rimmed with dark makeup like the other two girls. Some kind of gang maybe? “Nia, unbutton me. Either she gives us the bottle or she’s gonna find out just how stretchy she is.”

As the halfling, grin widening, moved to start undoing the human girl’s trousers, the half-elf cleared her throat. “Do we have time for this? If we’re gonna finish the Bargestreet job before they leave, we have to get there in less’n an hour. Let’s just get the fucking bottle and get out of this shithole. I’m not gonna lose the job of a lifetime to get rough with a two-bit thief on Bastard Hill.” Her voice was tense, but the softest of the three.

Nia, however, seemed to be mostly ignoring her -- popping open the last button on Moja’s pants and letting the human girl’s shockingly large cock bounce free, half-stiff and already rising up. “Can it, Brii. This won’t take long.”

“What’s it gonna be then, gnome?” Moja snarled, holding Nyx up with one hand with the other grabbed the front of her shirt, wrenching it downward to reveal one pale jiggling, beer-soaked breast. “You got the bottle or not?”

[ Nyx, it’s already almost noon, you lazy slut. You’re four feet off the ground, missing both shoes, and seem to have really pissed off three tattooed delinquents. You’ve gotten out of tighter jams than this, but maybe you don’t want to. You have a dagger, fourteen gold, and your magic, and... what exactly did happen to that bottle, after all? What do you do? ]