Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Moist (Patreon)

Some hundred leagues southwest of the Albatross’s Legs, just within territorial waters of the Roaring Archipelago, the scent of burnt pitch sullied the salt air. The telltale flotsam of battle bobbed upon the waves. So did the survivors.

She’d been too late. Granted, it was not her fault.

By the time the (admittedly gorgeous) illumination had dried, the tides had turned against her. Cavalier had been forced to wait until morning. And now the speed of a fast-response turtle had gone to waste. Though Brick’s swiftness might have served well charging against an enemy vessel, it had gone to waste. It had become a salvage mission rather than combat encounter. Cavalier had mixed feelings about those.

“Thank the Lady Celestial!” cried the first astonishingly handsome castaway.

“We’re saved!” exalted his equally-ripped colleague.

Striving mightily not to notice the relative thickness of the survivors’ respective thews, Cavalier spurred her turtle closer.

“Art thou injured?” she asked in her most professional tone.

“Naw, we gucci,” said the first of the castaways.

“Give us a lift?” asked the second. And he batted his astonishingly long lashes in a particularly saucy manner.

Not for the first time, Cavalier cursed her hair-trigger libido. Resolving to purchase a saddle without the exquisitely textured tooling, she bit her lip and asked, “Didst see the ship that committed this heinous crime? What colors did she fly?”

“We were below decks when shit went down,” said the first of the stupidly high-Charisma NPCs.

“There was a strange whining sound,” added the one in the even-tighter beeches. “Then it became a sort of ‘pew-pew.’ Next thing we knew we were out of the hold and in the sea.”

Cavalier racked her brain. Though she possessed an appropriate number of ranks in Knowledge (nature) for her class and level, she could recall no tales of leviathans that made such sounds.

“Here,” she called, tossing a length of hempen rope to the pair. “Bind yourselves to whatever driftwood you might. Brick and I will tow you to shore. You will give your report to the Grand Master of my order, and from thence shall we hunt the ill-begotten swine who dare to hunt innocent mariners within these waters!” Cavalier felt particularly proud of the ‘ill-begotten swine’ bit. Combining ye olde with pirate talk was never easy, but it proved a serviceable distraction from the clinging fabric of the survivor's puffy shirts.

Said survivors exchanged a look. “We were hoping to ride double,” said the first.

Cavalier blued a deeper blue. “A giant snapping turtle is rated to carry but a single—”

“I bet we could ride triple,” said the second. And his smile was very charming. “I’m sure there’s room enough for all.”

Cavalier looked down towards Brick. He had served her well through many battles. She looked back to the men in distress, bobbing in the sea. Seh wished dearly that the chop weren’t quite so rhythmic today.

“How much dost thou weigh?” she asked.

“No one’s complained of my size before,” said the first of the seductive sailors.

“It’ll be fun,” said the second sensuous swabby. “We can compare tattoos.”

Cavalier made some quick mental calculations. She tried desperately to recall the rules for aquatic carrying capacity. And because her Int score was otherwise occupied with playing the phrase “hubba-hubba” on repeat, she decided to apologize to Brick afterwards.