Erection of the Runelords Bk 1 Ch 3-4 (Beta) (Patreon)

A night of debauchery following a running battle through the streets of Sandpoint sets up EotRL as the raunchy Fantasy Adventure it's intended to be. Bk 1.3-4 sits at 24k words, and includes MF (rough, light breeding roleplay), MF (public), MFM (DP), and FF (massage).

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++BOOK ONE - BURNT OFFERINGS ++

***---***---*** CHAPTER THREE ***---***---***

The Paladin

The sun hung low over the Varisian bay, the shadow of the Old Light hanging across the northern rise of Sandpoint and reaching out towards the Cathedral. The ruined tower of the ancient lighthouse hung picturesque against the warm purples, oranges and yellows of the sunset, and Shaka took in a deep breath and let it out as he watched the festival. Things had calmed down some - a great bonfire was waiting to be lit in the center of the main town square, and others had already cropped up in the nearby street intersections. The crowds had thinned - many of the foreigners already having packed up their wares and goods and retreated to their inns for the evening after a long and busy day.

This final part of the festival was for the locals, and the faithful. It had taken five years for Sandpoint to rebuild its church. The last had burned down, taking with it the previous religious leader of the community. Father Ezakien Tobyn had been a man entering the later stages of his life, but still had held the same confidence and sense of purpose as he had when Sandpoint was founded while he was still a younger man.

The chapel fire had marked the last in a series of horrible events which the Sandpoint locals only referred to as The Late Unpleasantness. It was something of a misnomer - it had started with the death by apparent suicide of one of the local aristocrats. Rumour still held that Lonjiku Kaijitsu, the owner of the prosperous Glassworks, had had a hand in his wife's death. Then, for a month, the town had been haunted by a serial killer. Twenty-five townsfolk, including the town's previous Sheriff, had died at the hands of local woodcarver Jervis Stoot. Shaka had only learned about the killing spree after the fact, or else he would have come south to help in the hunt. The woodcarver had once been an honoured, if quiet and shy, member of the community. Shaka could see around town where some of his now infamous carvings of birds had been scraped away from the eaves, doorsills and fenceposts of buildings lining the town square. Only the heroism of Sheriff Hemlock had brought the incident to an end.

Then had come the fire, claiming the chapel, Father Tobyn and his adopted daughter. It had spread to several of the other buildings of Sandpoint's Uptown before finally being fought down. A quarter of the town had needed rebuilding or repairs.

Shaka took another breath, and turned and placed a hand on the wall of the new Cathedral. Five years to plan and build. Funded by the town, and some gifts from the various networks of churches that were represented within. Shaka knew the church of Erastil in Magnimar had managed to put together a decent enough gift to aid in the construction. Apparently they hadn't been able to produce an acolyte to send along with it.

Of course, how could a church of Hunters and Farmers find many clergy in the midst of a trade city? Shaka shook his head. Abstalar - Father Zantus's - words still hung around his shoulders like a wet and heavy cloak. There was a flock of Erastil’s faithful here in Sandpoint, one in need of guidance. I was trained to do this, he sighed. But he also had a calling. Had, being an important word. Was keeping the Lost Coast road clear of bandits really the calling of a clergyman? Even one who served Old Deadeye?

Perhaps Erastil was speaking to him through Abstalar.

I'll need to pray, Shaka decided. He would spend time at the altar that had been set up in the Cathedral. He would make sure it suited his god, not just in appearance but in feeling.

"Perhaps," Shaka said quietly, patting the stone wall again. "Perhaps."

The crowd in the town square were singing a folk song, and Shaka let a smile slip onto his face as he turned back. Someone was bearing a torch as they paraded up to the bonfire, and with a whoosh the stacked wood took the flame and burst fresh light across the faces of the gathered goodfolk.

Father Zantus came out of the front entrance of the Cathedral, a smile of his own on his face as he saw the faithful and the happy townsfolk gathered for the ongoing celebration. He let the song run it's course, and then pulled out another of his thunderstones. Shaka moved up to the side of the stage, though remained apart - this ceremony didn't require his aid, and Abstalar had been working towards this moment for half a decade.

With a flick of his wrist, Father Zantus tossed the thunderstone down and it's boom cracked and echoed out over the town. The crowd got quiet, turning to him up on the stage.

"My dear friends," Zantus said, his voice carrying to the back corners of the square. "As we see this fine festival day coming to a close, I have the absolute pleasure to begin the consecration ceremony of our new-"

"AAAAIIIiieeeEEEEEEEE!" The scream ripped through the crowd, interrupting Zantus. Everyone spun, heads flailing as people tried to pinpoint the source. Suddenly more shouts, this time of surprise and pain, rippled through the crowd. Shaka, with his height advantage as he loomed over everyone else, saw a trail start to part in the crowd as people jerked away from a moving something. It burst out from the front of the crowd, a small dark shape scuttling quickly along the ground and diving underneath one of the nearby stalls that had been used all day for food.

"It's a goblin," Shaka called to Zantus, who was trying to maintain order in the crowd.

Shaka had left his axe inside the Cathedral, along with his pack. He pulled out his knife - it's size more like a shortsword in most people’s grips - and moved towards the stall. His blade was single edged and curved at the end, with a bronze knuckleguard equally capable of deflecting a blade and being used to deliver a hard punch. With all his time spent out in the hinterlands and travelling the roads of Varisia, Shaka didn't fuck with goblins. They were short little menaces that, in enough numbers, would be more than happy to strip a farming family literally down to the bones as they stole and consumed anything they could get their claws one.

He was ready to flip the stall over onto its side so he could find the blighter when another chorus of screams arose. And more. From the north towards the town gate. From the south, into Lowtown.

There was a clash of metal down a sidestreet.

"Fire!" Someone shouted.

Shaka looked out across the crowd as they panicked and ran, swirling in a mass like a school of fish attempting to avoid contact with anything around it. Goblins were crawling over the roof of the Jeweler at the north end of the square, jumping down and menacing folks with their razor sharp 'dogslicers', the blades they scavenged from refuse and carved into serrated needles. More came piling out of a house, bursting through the glass windows and laying about themselves with sticks.

With a roar, Shaka overturned the cart and stared down at the goblin that had been cowering underneath. It looked up, all of two and half feet, to meet Shaka's eyes eight feet from the ground.

"Grag ikik kazkaziki!" It garbled, and pointed it's blood-covered dogslicer up at Shaka while it gnashed it's sharp little teeth. Fire danced in it's beady black eyes.

Shaka kicked the dogslicer out of it's hand, scooped it up in his fist and threw the snarling goblin clear across the town square, over the heads of the quickly diminishing crowd, to splat against the wall of the Jeweler with a distant crunch among it's fellows. Those goblins that were quickly spreading out from their hiding place on that roof looked up at their comrade as he peeled off the wall and slopped to the ground, and they took a moment to begin howling with laughter before turning back to their chasing.

Taking stock quickly, Shaka saw Zantus at the doors of the Cathedral, holding them open for members of the crowd to flee into. Many of the townsfolk had already begun rushing deeper into the town - some to find loved ones and protect property, others to find weapons. A half-dozen men and women were fighting the goblins that had piled out of the house, using everything from swords to broken chairs. The goblins from the Jewelers were starting to spread out, and were moving towards the group of villagers and the chapel.

"Abstalar," Shaka shouted, pacing onto the steps of the Cathedral. He planted himself on the lowest step and held his knife in front of him, ready to meet the goblins as they bullied each other in preparation for a charge. A horrible, warbling song was piercing the evening air, sung from the lips of a half-dozen shrieking vocalists scattered across Uptown. Goblin Warchanters, spurring on the raid.

"Shaka?" Zantus called back from the big doors, the last of the nearby villagers scrambling inside.

"Fetch me my Ax."

***---***---***---***

The Wizard

Considering the trouble Colt could have found himself in, somehow the current chaos of Sandpoint's Swallowtail Festival had never occurred to him as a remote possibility. The screaming had started uptown shortly after a thunderous boom, up near the center of the festival and the Cathedral, but had quickly picked up across the entire town. If he were honest with himself later, Colt's first instinct was to find a nice safe place to wait out whatever it was that was happening - he'd just heard that the local theater was putting on an impromptu performance of their last play, and considering it had been almost two weeks since he'd caught a decent show back in the city, he had been eager to see what sort of rural charms Sandpoint could provide the stage. He was not nearly in the mood, or drunk enough, to go looking for trouble.

But then the goblins went and chased a pretty woman straight into his arms.

"Aaaaah!" she screamed, sprinting down the street with her skirts held up and to the side, baring her legs practically to mid-thigh so as to run quickly. She was wild-eyed, blonde locks streaming behind her, and bosom flouncing in a way that Colt couldn't help but appreciate.

"Master wizard!" she called as her eyes locked on Colt. "Help, please! They're right behind me."

Shit. It was the mother of the girl he'd played 'wizard and apprentice' with for the crowd earlier that day. Why did I-

Colt didn't have time to finish the thought. A pair of horrible looking menaces came around the corner - they were of a size with a seven year old child, but with leathery, somewhat wrinkled skin as if they'd been baking in the sun for days on end. Their heads were too big for their bodies, and an odd oblong shape that pruned off into long, pointed ears that looked like a cross between the noble ear of an elf, and the wing of a bat.

The fact that they were rushing towards Colt and the woman who had now hurled herself into his arms reduced his time to consider the little devils. Beady black eyes. Sharp teeth, bared and slathering. Knives, long and jagged, rusted and pitted and looking more like metal talons than crafted steel.

Colt shook his hand free from the woman, raising his goblet. "Paulo Mendacium."

The roar, majestic and powerful, filled the street with sound while echoing down the cobbles and off the nearby buildings. The shutters of windows rattled slightly with the power of it, and the goblins both stuttered to a halt, one tripping over it's own feet in the process and rolling several times before coming to the stop. The roar echoed again, and the two little bastards grabbed for each other, looking around in a panic for the bestial source.

"This way," Colt urged the blonde mother, pulling her towards a nearby alley.

Once they were safely ensconced in the darkness, Colt leading her down to the next street over, the woman asked, "What was that?"

"The king of the jungle - at least, that's what they call the old lion at the Magnimar Zoo," Colt said.

"You summoned a lion!?" The woman whispered harshly. It was difficult to tell if she was impressed, or scolding, and Colt wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"No, it was just a mimicked sound. A little lie, to distract those two monsters," Colt said.

"Why didn't you just kill them? You're a wizard, you could have just zapped them with lighting, or put them on fire, couldn't you?" she asked.

Colt hesitated, then made a decision. "It wouldn't have been safe to do so in town," he whispered quickly. They had begun stalking down the new road, both eyeing the upcoming sidestreet where there was a commotion going on. "Destructive magics like that could have caused more damage to your town than the good they might do. No need to collapse a building, when a little frightening sound was enough to save you."

Before the woman could ask any more probing questions, Colt turned back to her and changed the subject while grabbing her hands in his. "Now, sweet woman, is your daughter safe? Do you need to get back to her, or could someone on this street provide shelter?"

"She's as safe as she could be, as long as her father is still at home," the woman said.

Damn, Colt sighed inside. Risking his hide for a married woman. He'd still been holding out hope that this was one mother he'd like to fuck, but after his escapade last night with someone else's wife he'd been hoping for someone less attached. The knives involved with such dalliances were starting to get old quickly.

"Rupert, Brinna," the woman called. She had stepped up to a nearby house and was knocking on the door. "It's me, Vanya. Let me in!"

The door cracked open and someone peeked out.

"Rupert, you ass," a woman's voice rose from within. "Open the damned door and let Vanya in!"

The man inside, a bit of a portly fellow with a horribly sparse mustache, opened the door further while giving a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Vanya. Just making sure it was really you."

He stepped aside for Vanya to enter, and Colt made to follow, but Vanya turned in the doorway and blocked it as she gave him a pleading, eager look. "Master wizard, you might have saved my life. Thank you. I'm sure there are others who are in even more dire circumstances now."

If she'd been acting, Colt would have called it a masterful performance. The kind of scene that would move a packed theater house to roar in approval as the hero strode off back into danger.

Fuck, thought Colt.

"Needs must," he said, nodding to the mother. "Stay safe. Perhaps we shall meet again."

"I hope we do," she smiled. She was still a damned pretty woman, even if she was married. But also barring his way to safety.

Just go with the scene, Colt told himself. It's what his improv mentor had always said. Yes, and! He winked and strode off down the street, hearing the door close and get bolted shut behind him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Colt whispered to himself.

The truth of the matter was, Colt was definitely a wizard. He just wasn't exactly a master wizard. He was sort of more like... barely a wizard. Was it his fault that his true passions lay with the stage? Or that his mentors had openly criticized his natural talents with magic in favour of their own specialties? Vanya the Pretty Mother had wanted him to shoot lighting, for fuck's sake! Did she know how fucking hard that was to do?

At the corner of the next side street, Colt's indecisiveness and worry faded when he peeked around and stumbled on one of the strangest sights he had ever laid eyes on.

The first goblin - the lowest one - looked like it was about to buckle under the pressure of the one standing on it's shoulders. Or, more likely, it was the weight of the combined six goblins all stacked on each other's shoulders that was doing the lowest one in. The entire tower of goblins was a teetering, jabbering set of wobbling limbs, gnashing teeth and shrill snarls. The topmost goblin was flailing with one of their oversized, jagged knives, trying to reach the second-story window of a house where a small dog was currently yapping angrily down at the goblins.

Every time the dog barked, the entire tower shuddered and hissed in anger, and the top goblin flailed and shouted directions in it’s guttural yet squeaky language to the others. The whiplashing effect as each movement from a lower goblin magnified through the others meant they were unlikely to ever actually get anywhere near the window and the dog.

Colt just shook his head and blinked, trying to figure out whether he should laugh at the ridiculousness, or do something about it.

He ended up laughing when the Top Goblin tried to jump for the window, but instead slammed it's wide and ugly face into the wall about a foot too low, then slowly slipped back down towards the cobbles while the rest of the goblin tower rocked backwards and collapsed in on itself in a pile of flailing little clawed limbs.

"Bwahahahaha!" Colt hollered, pawing at his eyes as he laughed so hard he teared up. "Tahahaha!"

Unfortunately, as Colt straightened back up, blinking through his tears, his mouth ran dry and the laughter died on his lips as he looked at five angry goblins all standing, knives in hands, glaring in his direction. The sixth was unmoving on the cobbles next to them.

"Has anyone ever told you fellows-" Colt interrupted himself by abruptly turning and running for his life.

Now, to be fair, Colt certainly didn't plan the next series of events, but they definitely seemed to line up in a way that made him wonder if Desna herself had been looking down on the town of Sandpoint and seen his predicament. Soft-soled leather boots pounding the cobbles, Colt realized that despite his longer legs and the fear speeding him along, a sprinter he was not. Or at least not compared to the goblins that were howling some sort of terrible, keening battle-song as they chased him.

The first moment of relief came when Colt spotted the knot of Town Guards turning onto the street towards him from the main thoroughfare. Then a moment of panic when he realized they were already embattled - a foursome of goblins seemed to spill directly out of an abandoned cart, each one clutching a piece of a still-feathered chicken in it's mouth. Colt felt a cold swish of air against his calves - a blade, passing within inches. A blade that could have cut his tendons and left him to the mercies of the goblins, likely to end up just like that poor chicken.

Putting on a burst of speed fueled almost entirely by the sheer terror gripping his heart, Colt bounded through the night time street, leapt clear over two of the chicken-eating goblins, and spun back around. "Iris imbre!"

It was a spell he had never used in practice - to be honest, other than a few close encounters with jilted lovers or jealous partners like the one with that knife-wielding rube of a husband, Colt had never even really been in a proper fight before. Still, the words and gestures came to mind, memorized and re-memorized just as every one of the spells he knew - along with several short monologues, just in case he had the chance at a great audition.

His hands pushed out, pointing the mouth of his goblet focus directly towards the two goblins he had jumped over, and the five more that were charging up to the little battle. To Colt's left was a town guard, who on closer inspection may not have been older than sixteen with the horribly thin, scraggly beard to match, and on his left Colt found a mountain of stern, dark skinned muscle in the form of the Sheriff of Sandpoint himself.

Magic poured out of the goblet in a spray of light, a rainbow of colours pulsing three times, rotating and lighting up the entire street in front of him as if from a hooded lantern holding back the light of an alchemical campfire. The goblins - blessedly all of them - staggered as one as they blinked and winced and the light washed over them. Their eyes glazed, some going cross-eyed and taking on expressions of sheer comical confusion.

The fight paused, as the goblins reacted to Colt's magical lightshow and the guards drew back from the unexpected magic.

"Fucking kill them, it won't last forever!" Colt shouted. The last pulse of the spell was already burning out into the night.

The Sheriff and his deputies set to as soon as the magic dissipated, putting the stunned goblins down with brutal efficiency.

Colt staggered, planting his back against a nearby shop wall as he heaved for breath. Someone handed him a waterskin and he drank deeply, only partially disappointed to find actual water instead of wine or something else more celebratory. Considering he returned the waterskin to the stern looking Sheriff, Colt didn't voice his thoughts.

"That was quick thinking, and potent magic," the taller man said. "Belor Hemlock, I'm the Sheriff. I haven't seen you around Sandpoint before." He was curt, but thankfully didn't sound accusatory. Colt could only imagine there were some big questions behind the man's creased brow as to exactly how a goblin raid had sprung up out of nowhere.

"Colt Caudex at your service, Sheriff," Colt panted, still trying to catch his wind back. "Just- hah- only just arrived a couple of days ago."

"Well son," the Sheriff said. "You're doing good work out here. Take this." He pressed something into Colt's hands.

Colt looked down at the cold, metal object and found himself holding a polished tin star in a bronze circle.

"For the night, you're a deputy of the Sandpoint Garrison, Colt Caudex," the Sheriff said. "Let's put your magic to good use, and maybe we'll make some stories for men to tell over their ales, eh?"

Fuuuuck, fuck fuck fuuuuuck, Colt screamed internally. He just wanted to find a place to grab a drink and sleep until this nightmare of an evening was over. And now he was getting drafted. Only years of practice kept his displeasure from reaching his face.

"Ah, uh, well... lead on then, good Sheriff," Colt swallowed, gulping out his words as a fresh sheen of nervous sweat started to form on the back of his neck.

What was the worst that could happen? He was with the Sheriff and three of the town guards.

And he had his parlor trick magics, and perhaps one more spell of significance in him?

Shit.

***---***---***---***

The Monk

The screams were disconcerting, and the clash of steel was the kind of violence that should have been happening in the darkest alleys of the darkest night, but it was the smoke that put Anjella on edge the most. It was wreathing between buildings, warping an already new and strange place into a nightmare of dead ends and looming darkness. Only a building on fire could create so much smoke all at once, and in old Korvosa a fire like that was cause for panic.

Hacking a cough to try and clear her throat, Anjella finally managed to push herself free of the crowd that she’d been swept up in. The press of bodies had at once been a small comfort, but also claustrophobic in their madness. She had spent the late afternoon with her cousin at his bar - not that many folks in the town realized he owned it rather than the withered, big Varisian man who tended it - and had begged off another round of knucklebones and getting leered at by her cousin’s gang of swaggering, showboating bravos.

The Festival was a fine excuse, and she had slipped her black cloak back around her shoulders and gone into the night, up towards where the Consecration ceremony was to begin. Anjella had barely made it into the town square in front of the Cathedral when the screams had started, and within moments she’d been surrounded by the roiling wash of bodies as the frightened mob fled. She couldn’t have been swept along for more than a minute, but those panic-inducing moments of powerlessness had felt like hours.

Anjella pressed her hand against the wall of some building in the dark, hacking again and spitting down onto the neatly lined cobbles of the street. She was on a main thoroughfare of the town, but she didn’t recognize it in the dark, lit only by lanterns. I’m here less than a day and everything goes to shit.

She had gotten a few glimpses of the raiders, though she’d never actually seen a goblin before. Sure, there were always rumours back home - goblins living in the sewers, sneaking up at night to thieve and abduct children for their pots. It was a common enough folk tale that she’d grown up with.

But this wasn’t a folk tale. It wasn’t a story.

Goblins were real, and they were here in Sandpoint.

A chorus of shouting echoed as a new mob of townfolk rounded a nearby street corner, bustling in slightly-less panic than the one she had escaped.

“Into the theatre now, my friends. Inside and we’ll bolt the door behind us!” cried the man at their head, slightly paunchy but tall and with a commanding voice. Anjella thought he might have been one of the speakers during the opening speeches of the festival.

Anjella moved to follow them, but a shout from a woman just ahead of her sent her attention to the nearby rooftops. A pair of goblins were climbing through the eaves of the house over them, one with a knife gripped in it’s teeth while the other was striking a flint against steel, attempting to light some sort of torch. The one with the knife, noticing it had been spotted, snarled and used it’s hands and feet to launch itself off the roof, down towards the screaming woman.

“Move!” Anjella said, already shoving the woman out of the way. With a pivot and turn on one foot, Anjella kicked out high and snapped a sharp crack of impact into the goblin’s round head as it was mid flight. It’s trajectory rebounded away from her, and ended with a thump on the cobbles.

The goblin didn’t move, other than for it’s body to slump limply to a final rest.

“You… you saved me,” the woman said, picking herself up from the ground.

“An impressive kick,” the big man with the voice said. “Are you-”

Anjella turned and vomited.

She’d felt it. Felt the life leave that nasty little thing the moment her kick landed. Felt the snap of it’s little gnarled spine as she put every ounce of effort into her strike. She’d been in well over two dozen fights, but only three of them had been outside of a pugilist ring. One had been last night, less than a day ago with that half-giant Erastilian. She’d never killed something before with her own hands.

“Um, Cyrdak?” One of the other townsfolk said nervously. “What do we do about that!?”

Anjella wiped her mouth, embarrassed and sickened at the same time, and looked up. The other Goblin had gotten it’s torch lit and was bashing it on the edge of the wooden slatted roof of the house. It was unlikely to do much damage like that, but as it was garbling angrily down at them all in it’s horrible language it was shifting down the roof towards an inset window.

“Fuck,” Anjella said. She could see it clearly - the little fucker would break in the window, and set about lighting the entire house on fire, and probably go up in the flames itself.

She jumped, as high as she could, and planted a foot on the wall of the house and pushed off, gaining just a few more inches of reach and hooking her fingertips on the lip of the roof.

“Holy shit,” someone said from below as Anjella then began hauling herself up onto the roof.

The goblin panicked, garbling again in it’s language and waving the lit torch at her. Anjella ducked one swing at her face, and managed to get her torso above the roof edge before the return swing. She braced herself with one arm and caught the torch with the other, her palm immediately singing with pain at touching the fire, but she gripped anyways and yanked the burning stick from the goblins grasp. She let it drop and leaned forward, doing an awkward roll and kicking her legs back and up so that she somersaulted onto the roof fully.

“Graka back no shanty, longshanks!” the goblin snarled, reaching into it’s pants with one hand and pulling out what looked like a tiny shank made out of a copper butter knife filed to a sharp point.

“Why the hell would you keep that in your pants?” Anjella muttered to it. She was up on her knees and scooted sideways as the goblin ran forward trying to stab her. Anjella clapped it on the back of the head, sending it stumbling, then spun on one knee and kicked out her other leg to trip it, but somehow the little raider managed to turn it’s stumble into a tumble over her leg.

It whirled, hissed, and lunged, and Anjella snarled in pain as it’s little dagger plunged into the meat of her thigh.

“Fuck, ow!” she coughed, and she punched it right in the chest. It wasn’t the hardest she could punch - she couldn’t use most of her body, couldn’t get her weight and strength behind it. She was still kneeling on the angled roof, keeping her balance. Still, she punched, and she felt it’s ribcage crack, and it’s eyes widened in pain and shock as it flew off it’s feet and out into mid air, dropping quickly to splat on the cobbles.

“You alright up there?” Cyrdak asked from the street below.

Anjella got to her feet, one hand on her thigh - it wasn’t bleeding badly, but it stung like she’d been poked with a knitting needle. “Yeah, yeah I think so,” she said. She looked out over the town and saw a half dozen streams of smoke from various small fires - it was hard to know which ones might be dangerous, and which were just the prepared bonfires for the festival evening.

“Well, miss. You are… quite impressive. You are more than welcome to join us, we are heading to my theater for shelter.”

Anjella’s attention was caught by a strange sight on the other side of the house - the alley between the buildings was tight, but a horse was running between them, bashing through piles of discarded waste waiting for collection. Now, she didn’t know a whole lot about horses other than that you could ride them, and people seemed to like betting on racing them, but she was fairly certain even in this lack of knowledge that they weren’t known as predatory animals.

Somehow, this one had gotten it in it’s head that chasing a good half dozen goblins down the alley was a fun idea.

It whinnied and raced forward, straight through and over the little group, trampling two under it’s iron-shod hooves.

“I, uh…” Anjella said, eyes riveted on the strange scene. The horse got to a point where three of the tight alleys met and it had enough room to turn around, which was exactly what it did. And then it was trotting right back down towards the goblins, who started running away from it all over again, minus the two they left squashed into the dirt.

“Miss?”

Anjella followed the sounds going on around town with her eyes - the loudest commotion going on back in Uptown, towards the Cathedral. Her hand hurt, though her years training her firsts had left thick calouses that helped deaden the pain. Her thigh felt tight around the stab wound, but no more than if she’d gotten hit with a charlie horse.

“I think I…” What am I doing? Anjella thought. But something told her to continue. Push through. Do her… duty? “I think I should try and help out,” she called down to the man.

“Well, that’s quite heroic of you,” the man said. “I’ll have to write up a little song about the Maid who Boxed a Goblin. Come find me sometime, we’ll see what I come up with.” He led the townsfolk off, leaving Anjella with her thoughts on the roof.

“What the hell am I doing?” Anjella muttered to herself. She lowered herself down from the roof, hanging by her fingertips again before dropping the half dozen feet to the ground and rolling with the impact. What was that feeling she’d had? It was like she’d seen two paths in front of her - go with the townsfolk to the theater, and her life would be… something. Don’t, and run towards trouble, and it would be… everything? Something else?

She didn’t understand it.

Anjella jogged back up the street towards the Cathedral, and after a couple of turns she was striding up the slope and entering the town square. Across the space, from between the smoldering and collapsed tables and festival booths and around the now-lit festival bonfire, she saw a half dozen men and women of the town led by a guardsman as they stormed from one house to the next, chasing goblins out of windows and doors from the first and into the second as they scrambled like rats. Across the square in the other direction she saw something altogether more desperate.

The half-giant stood on the steps of the Cathedral, a big knife in his hand, as he warily turned back and forth, keeping a clean half dozen goblins at bay as they nipped at him with knives and torches. He was alone, and Anjella could tell that if the big man had that axe he had been carrying with him before he likely could have carved through the little fuckers. With only a knife, his options when surrounded and outnumbered were poor. He was also, she could see as she started to sprint, moving to try and keep himself between the goblins and the doors to the Cathedral.

Anjella didn’t shout to try and draw the goblins attention - the chaos and commotion of the house-to-house chase across the square made that useless. Instead as she ran she let her cloak loose, letting it fly off, followed by her long black vest, leaving her the least encumbered and feeling like she was ready to fight.

The big man saw her coming and he faked a lunge, causing two of the goblins nearest to her to jump backwards, just that slight bit closer to her. She planted a foot and twisted her entire body, feeling the power ripple through her muscles, from her shoulder and hips and core, down her leg into a kick that powered right through the first goblin and drove it’s head into the one next to it. Both went down in a hard whumph.

Meanwhile, the half-giant took the fight to his enemies, flicking out his wrist and throwing his knife at one of the other goblins. It hit, practically bisecting the thing with the power of the throw, and he followed that up by tackling the one next to it and wrapping it up under one arm and squeezing.

Anjella was already moving. Fighting goblins, with their diminutive stature, was strange. She found that it was just so much more obvious to kick them. So she did, spinning and front-kicking the next closest one in the face and sending it head over ass backwards. Then she felt a tug, and her pants getting dragged down from behind in a swift pull.

“What the fuck?!” she shouted, turning her torso and reaching back, grabbing the offending hand of the fourth goblin.

It hissed at her, it’s tongue playing along it’s jagged and gnarled teeth, and it yanked, trying to get it’s little claw out of her grip and failing.

Anjella squeezed her grip and lifted the goblin off the ground by it’s arm, and it’s eyes got big as it started to panic. “Fucking little pervert,” she said, and she lifted it high enough that she could headbutt it right in it’s stubby nose. It’s squealed in pain as black blood started gushing from it’s broken face, and Anjella threw it to the ground and stomped on it.

It was strange, looking down at that broken body, how she didn’t feel sick about hurting these things so quickly.

“Ahem,” the half-giant man coughed.

Anjella turned and saw that he had killed his other goblin, and was wiping his retrieved knife on a rag.

“Your ass is out,” he said.

That broke her out of her thoughtfulness, as she huffed out a breath and quickly pulled up her billowy black pants, cinching the belt cord tighter and tying it off. “What, no thank you, you big ox?” she asked.

“I felt like you’d care more about your thong showing,” he shrugged.

“Just remember I got more of them than you did,” she grunted. She hated that he was right. Hated that somehow a goblin had managed to make her feel like an idiot. Hated that he didn’t make a comment about her ass, or body. Every man she knew who could handle themselves in a fight would have… said something. Made a comment. Made a pass.

And all this oaf does is let me cover up, she grunted. Fuck. She knew how to deal with lechers and bravos and every manner of man, or woman, who wanted to see her in their bed. This was different.

“Shaka,” a man said, and they both turned to find the priest of the Cathedral, Zantus, coming out of the door with the half-giant’s ax. He was Varisian by blood, and Jubrayl had told Anjella that the man was the ‘right’ sort of priest. Which meant he actually did his job, and wasn’t up to something else. Trustworthy with everything but the sort of work Jubrayl’s sczarni gang were up to.

“Thank you, Abstalar,” the half-giant said. “Though you might have been quicker about it.”

“Well, I had to find it first,” the priest said. “And then I had to get it through a crowd of panicked people.” He handed the ax, which he had to carry with both hands, to Shaka. “Thank you for your bravery, my friend. I’m not sure if we could have gotten the doors shut and barred in time.”

“I only do what Erastil has prepared me for,” Shaka said.

Dead Lord, what a pompous ass, Anjella thought.

“And you, my dear stranger,” Father Zantus said, turning the Anjella. “Thank you for your help as well. But I see you’re injured!” He stepped forward down the steps, hands offered. “Please, allow me to help a hero such as yourself.”

“No, I’m fine,” Anjella said, waving him off.

“Please, I cannot let you continue wounded,” the Priest offered again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s fine, Zantus,” Shaka said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Save your healing for those in more need, you were always better at summoning Desna’s blessings than I was beseeching Old Deadeye.”

Anjella winced as she shifted her weight - now that the fighting had lulled, her adrenaline was edging off and she was starting to feel the wound more, but there was no way she was going to admit that to the big lug. “Really, you two. I’m fine.”

“You are clearly not,” Shaka said, and knelt down next to her. Which put him at still over eye level with her while she was standing. “Stop being stubborn. Erastil doesn’t help those who don’t help themselves, so you don’t need to consider it charity.”

Anjella gritted her teeth, but nodded in assent. As Shaka pulled a wooden amulet out from under his shirts, the disk carved with the bow of the Stag Lord, Anjella sighed and mumbled, “I’m not a girl, by the way. Don’t try to belittle me, giant.”

Shaka smirked, just a little. “My apologies, woman,” he said, then he muttered a prayer and placed his immense, pale hand on her thigh. His hand could almost wrap around her muscled leg, each of his fingers almost as thick as three of her own, and she felt a warmth spread out from his palm. It tickled, like a dust mote in the nose but deep in her muscles, making them flex and spasm for a moment, then in a rush it spread down to her toes, and up into her hip and lower abdomen in a wave.

Anjella jerked away, and Shaka released her, and she bit her lip as she looked away across the town square. Anything to keep from letting out the strangled groan she wanted to. Anything from giving away that the wash of his god’s magic had just made her feel like a bitch in heat as it washed through her womb and set her tingling.

“Thanks,” she grunted. Hating that he had done that to her. I should have just let the priest heal me. At least the Goddess of Dreams isn’t likely to turn you into a rutting beast.

Shaka stood and lifted his ax to his shoulder, looking out with her over the ruined festival grounds. “This isn’t over. I can still hear the fighting.”

“I should be out there,” Father Zantus said.

“No,” Shaka said, turning back to the priest. “Be where the people can find you. You and your few acolytes represent the best bet anyone with dire injuries has, they need to be able to find you. And you need to stay alive.”

“He’s right,” Anjella said, nodding despite the fact that her tongue wanted to find a reason to disagree with him.

Zantus hesitated, then nodded. “I… agree with your thinking. If I cannot, then I rely on you. Keep my town safe - I offer you the the Fortune of Mother Moon, here under her view.” He held up his own holy symbol, a silver butterfly of Desna on a silver chain, and it gleamed brightly with the light of the moon despite the yellow bonfire lighting the town square.

“Everything I can, everything we must,” Shaka nodded, then clapped the priest on the shoulder again.

“I’ll do what I can,” Anjella said. She hadn’t set out to save a fucking town. This wasn’t her thing. This was… well, it was exactly the kind of shit a stern, muscley, giant holy warrior would do. Why the hell am I going along with this?

And yet she did.

“Thank you. Both of you,” Zantus said.

“Get yourself inside and get some of the townsfolk in there to man the doors properly. Use those fancy candlesticks I saw in the Abadar shrine as clubs if you need to, he goes by the Gold-Fisted one so he shouldn’t mind.”

Zantus barked a laugh and nodded again before heading back up the steps.

“Well,” Anjella said, looking around the empty town square again. There were shouts and the sound of fighting still happening to the south, deeper into town. “You know this place better than I do, it seems. Where are we going?”

“This way,” he grunted, bringing his ax down and shifting his grip on the haft as he stalked down the nearest street.

“Well, that’s one way to choose,” Anjella muttered to herself. The fact that she’d done about the same thing not five minutes earlier wasn’t lost on her, and she did not like the similarities.

Not five buildings down the street, a chorus a tiny screams rattled around a corner. Shaka glanced at Anjella, they nodded, and broke into a run. Despite his size and longer legs, in a sprint Anjella was actually the faster of the two, and she rounded the corner onto a short street that ended in a cul de sac.

Two story homes, most with dark shop fronts on the bottom, lined the street and loomed over, casting long shadows as no bonfires lit the area. The one light blazing was a bright white, coming from a thin blade being held by a woman with her back to a gaggle of seven or eight children as she wove her rapier in a figure eight, forcing back a solid seven goblins from reaching the children. The woman was young, maybe around Anjella’s age or a touch older, and she realized from her silky black hair with a shock of white mixed into the bangs that it was the foreign woman who had been working one of the food booths in the town square during the day. Her blade glowing with magical light, a snarl on her face, the Tian woman made a show of her defense of the children cornered between two buildings, but Anjella could see she’d already suffered several cuts and the goblins were currently dancing between playing with their food and fearing the sword. Two goblin corpses were already on the cobbles.

“Euuuliaaa!” Anjella yelled, charging forward and hollering a wordless battlecry, trying to spook and distract the goblins.

“Estig!” Shaka shouted, just behind her, invoking another name of his god. His voice thundered, overshadowing hers and echoing between the buildings.

It was fast and bloody. Anjella got cut across the shin when she kicked a particularly long and jagged knife out of one goblin’s hand, while Shaka was bitten on the thigh by a goblin as he was cleaving another two in half with his great ax. The Tian woman held her own, dispatching another two herself on the point of her rapier.

Three of the goblins survived, scampering through a small fence between two of the shops, and Anjella hesitated before deciding that vaulting over the fence to chase them in the dark was asking for an ambush.

“Thank you,” the Tian woman panted, hands down on her knees as she looked around warrily.

“It’s been a while, Ameiko,” Shaka said, and Anjella frowned at the smile on the half-giants lips. “Last time I saw you, you looked much like this though.”

Ameiko smiled and shook her head. “And younger, and stupider. That was my last ‘adventure.’ Things didn’t go well.”

Shaka frowned. “I’m sorry. If I’d have known-”

“There was no way you could, big man,” Ameiko said. “Alder, Sandru and I were still practically kids. I’ll… I don’t talk about it much, but I’ll tell you when this is over. Come see me?”

Shaka nodded. Anjella pursed her lips and turned away, looking over the children. They were anywhere from ten to twelve mostly, except for one who looked to only be about seven.

“What do we do with these?” Anjella asked.

“I’ll get them somewhere safe,” Ameiko said. She rolled her shoulders and then turned and picked up a strange looking lute-like instrument from where she must have discarded it. The Tian woman winced as she slung it over her shoulder.

“Let me help,” Shaka said, stepping forward. Again with the wooden holy symbol, and he placed his big hand on Ameiko’s shoulder. Anjella watched as the magic passed into Ameiko, the blood in her cuts congealing and then quickly closing, though remaining raw. She could also see that shiver as it passed through the other woman, and saw the heat rise in her cheeks. Anjella shook her head and bit her tongue. “It’s not much,” Shaka said. “But the way should be clear up to the Cathedral.”

“More than I can do for myself,” Ameiko said. She took his big hand in both of hers and squeezed, then turned to the children. “Come on, you roughians,” she said to them, her voice changing to a playful banter. “How about we go visit Father Zantus?”

One of the kids grimaced as they began following her. “Why can’t we fight the goblins? I can use a sword, Miss Ameiko.”

“Because, Dusielle, I only have one sword,” Ameiko explained in a singsong voice as she and her flock of children rounded the corner.

“Come on, ox,” Anjella said to Shaka. “You can stop flirting with the locals, I thought we were saving this town or something.”

“I wasn’t flirting with her,” Shaka said with a frown. “I met her when she was barely sixteen.”

“And how long ago was that?” Anjella asked.

“Two years, maybe two and a half.”

Anjella shook her head. “You don’t know anything, do you?”

“What?” Shaka asked with a confused look.

“Come on,” Anjella sighed. Why she was even sticking with him, she couldn’t figure out.

***---***---***---***

The Wizard

Smoke and mirrors. Colt felt like there was only one way he was going to stay alive, and it was by pretending this was a play, and all the world was his stage.

He summoned lights, projected images to distract. Directed fleeing townsfolk with a booming voice.

He laughed, realizing how easy it all seemed. Then he got stabbed, and felt like he was going to die.

But he had an audience, and she was beautiful.

Auburn hair, a deep red he had only seen on a few wealthy women in Magnimar wearing dyed wigs. Pale, fair skin like milk, dusky pink lips. Wide green eyes. A heaving bosom. Oh, that heaving bosom.

Colt let out a breath, pressing a hand to his side around the serrated kitchen knife that the goblin had just sunk into him. He could feel his blood oozing around his fingers. The goblin was snarling, it’s beady black eyes darting this way and that, trying to find a new weapon. Colt was between it and the woman.

Fuck, what do I say? He wondered. At this point in the play, the hero would say something amazing. Something to stir the audience, no matter whether it was before his victory or his tragic defeat.

Nothing. He had nothing.

Colt raised his golden goblet and tipped it toward the goblin. “Today is not the day, vermin,” he said, then cast his spell. “Mea Manus.”

Huh, that wasn’t half bad I guess. It wouldn’t win any awards though.

A hand, ghostly pale in the dark of the night, apparated behind the confused goblin. It mimicked Colt’s left hand, which he slowly turned to give the goblin the middle finger, then it scooped low and drove that middle finger right into the goblin’s asshole. Or thereabouts.

The spell, commonly known in the arcane community as a ‘Mage’s Hand,’ was little more than a practice spell. A tool for learning, and a simple utility. It was barely strong enough to carry a full mug of ale, and was generally considered useless in terms of self defense. Colt had found a secondary use for it in the bedroom, and now he put it to use in a similar manner here.

It wasn’t enough to, say, poke a hole into the goblin, or even bludgeon it successfully. It was certainly enough to give it a surprise and a shock.

The goblin screeched, thrusting it’s little hips away from the offending poke as it tried to spin and see what had done it. And Colt kicked it right in it’s little twig and berries.

It hiccuped as it fell backwards onto it’s ass, and then twitched all over in a spasm. And then the Sherrif was there, standing over it, driving his sword into its gut and ending it. The rest of the guardsmen were finishing off their own.

Colt didn’t care. He didn’t even care about the knife still in his side - couldn’t even feel it at the moment, which might have been a bad sign - because he had stepped over to the red haired woman.

“Master wizard,” she said, sighing it out. “When we talked about a private display, this isn’t what I’d been thinking.”

“Neither had I,” Colt said. Then he felt a twinge as he reached for the woman, and stopped to pull the goblin knife from him. It came out red with his blood.

“Oh,” the woman said, eyes wide.

“It’s nothing,” Colt said through gritted teeth. Owowowoooooow! “Just a flesh wound, nothing more.”

Her eyes fluttered, and he stepped forward and caught her in his arms as she swooned. She came to quickly, looking up at him through hooded eyes. “Master wizard,” she whispered, lips parted slightly. Pursed. Bosom swelling with her breath,

He kissed her, and was surprised that the sweetness, the delicious drama of the moment that still didn’t overwhelm the burning pain of his stab wound.

“Ahem. Deputy,” the Sheriff said, and Colt held up a finger, asking him to wait as the kiss went on, his tongue starting to get acquainted with hers.

“Deputy! Now isn’t really the time.”

The red-headed woman put her hands on Colt’s chest, and Colt withdrew, letting her stand on her own.

“Shayliss!” another woman cried nearby, and the redhead’s eyes widened in surprise. A second one, just as pretty but slightly younger, pushed through the knot of guards and townsfolk that had gathered after the skirmish in the street near the docks. This new woman wrapped up the first in a hug.

“Katrine,” Shayliss said, looking over her shoulder at Colt. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, then buried her face in her sister’s hair and hugged her back.

“Come on,” the younger sister said, pulling away from the hug and taking Shayliss’s hand. “If we don’t get back home, Father might tear the entire town apart looking for us.”’

Colt watched as his sweet redhead rushed down a side street, looking over her shoulder at him once, hair streaming behind her like a horse's mane.

“Careful, Caudex,” the Sheriff said. “That one is trouble, everyone knows it.”

“I happen to like trouble that looks like that,” Colt said, flashing the big, bald man a grin.

The Sheriff just shook his head. “You might not think so if you met her father. Ven is… well, Ven Vinder isn’t a man I would want to get on the bad side of.” He turned and started to address the gathered townsfolk and guards.

Colt didn’t really listen, instead looking wistfully down that sidestreet again while holding his side. “Shayliss Vinder,” he murmured, smirking. Bad tempered father or not, and Colt clearly remembered meeting the man when he’d run into the redhead earlier during the festival, Colt was going to find her again. He could feel it in his loins. And it was going to be some great sex.

“Ready, wizard?” the Sheriff asked.

“Hmm?” Colt asked, coming back to reality. The townsfolk were splitting up, as were the guards, getting escorted down a variety of streets out of the docks market.

“I’m going to take these folks into the lower east end of town,” the Sheriff said, gesturing to a trio of townsfolk. “We haven’t heard anything from anyone over there and I need to check if everything is alright. Head towards Uptown, there might be people who need you up that way.”

“I-”

The sheriff clapped Colt on the shoulder, cutting off his response. “Good man,” he said. “I know I can count on you. Keep this up, and you’ll be a local hero.”

Colt swallowed his previous suggestion. “Just doing what’s right,” he said instead, taking on his role again.

With a nod, the Sheriff turned to the townsfolk he was escorting and led them off.

“It fucking happened again,” Colt muttered to himself once he was alone. He took a step, and nearly collapsed. He jammed a hand against his side and it came up wet with blood. “Fuck.”

Uptown was in the direction of the Cathedral. He couldn’t afford it, but perhaps his status as ‘almost a local hero’ could swing him some divine healing.

So Colt picked a street that looked like it headed north, towards the looming shape of the Cathedral in the darkness, it’s stained glass windows softly glowing from within. He picked up steam as he went, figuring out how not to tweak his wound more as he kept pressure on it while he moved. Right up until he found himself staring down two goblins sprinting towards him out of the darkness from up the street.

“Oh, fuck,” Colt grimaced, stopping and looking around. The nearby buildings were all shuttered.. The closest alley was towards the goblins, and he couldn’t just turn and run. “Fuck.”

Colt held up his goblet and prepared to loose his second, and last, exciting spell for the day. He just didn’t have the practice, the ‘mental fortitude and attunement’ as his magical tutors used to say, to do anything more.

He held off on the words, waiting for the goblins to get fully into the right range, but stopped when he saw the two next figures chasing the goblins down the street. One was the huge behemoth he’d seen early during the festival, the giant who was carrying a massive great ax as he ran. The other was a stunning woman of Varisian descent in just a loose pair of pants and her upper torso bound with what looked like tight bandages, hiding her chest.

Colt took a risk and changed his mind. “Paulo Mendacium”.

A wall, made of bricks, rose from the cobbles in the middle of the street, blocking the path of the goblins - at least, that’s what they and their pursuers saw. Smoke and mirrors.

Illusions, despite his repertoire, were not his natural talent. The problem with being someone with an affinity for the Enchantment school of wizardry was that, first of all, there were few practical lessons to be learned for a beginner beyond, ‘People don’t like being enchanted.’ So, for his love of the stage, most of Colt’s time had been spent learning Illusions.

The goblins skidded to a halt, the two of them panicking with wide eyes as they believed they were cut off from escape. If they had just kept running, they would have passed directly through the Illusion and out the other side, but instead they believed their eyes, and so they died for it. The giant reached them first, his ax swing wide and low, carving one nearly in two and slamming it’s black-blood-spraying corpse into the other. The woman leaped, landing on top of the still-living one as it was on the ground, and drove her knee into its face with a sickening squelch.

Colt dismissed the wall immediately, and it dissolved into the ether of magic, as he stepped forward.

“A mighty fine trick,” the giant said. “But why not just kill them?”

Colt smiled weakly. “I’m not that kind of wizard, big guy. Though after tonight I might just need to learn how to spit fire or something.”

“He’s wounded,” the woman said, grimacing as she brushed goblin juice off of the knee of her black pants. The stains almost disappeared into the dark fabric and poor lighting. From this close Colt could see her hands and wrists, and ankles, were wrapped with bandage-like strips of cloth similar to those on her chest.

“I am,” Colt said. “Perhaps you two could get me to the Cathedral?”

“I can take care of it,” the giant said, and Colt was suddenly feeling very small as the biggest man he had ever seen leaned over him. The giant put his ax down and put a hand on Colt’s side, his other grasping a wooden holy symbol from around his neck. All at once Colt felt a rush of warmth and adrenaline, shooting up his spine and down his legs, and it was over.

“That,” Colt said, “Was amazing.” He lifted his shirt and looked at the raw, scabbed over wound in his side.

“I can only do that a few more times,” the giant said.

“A few?” Colt gawped. “I can’t do that once.”

“Do you have an erection?” the woman asked.

“What?” Colt said, and looked down, and realized that he was in fact sporting a rock hard erection in his pants. “Wait. What? That- I don’t- huh?”

“It’s not an uncommon side effect,” the giant said, rubbing his bald scalp with one hand. His skin was a light, almost limestone grey, and his beard a shaggy black mass that couldn’t hide his chagrin. “Old Deadeye is a primal god, and so his touch can spark primal urges sometimes. Hunger, fear, aggression, and arousal are all minor side effects I’ve seen.”

“That explains it,” the woman muttered.

“Explains what?” the big man asked..

The woman frowned and looked away. “Nothing. Nothing. Come on, there’s still more of them out there.”

The giant seemed to accept this, but Colt saw a flicker of something strange on her face. She was beautiful in a severe, stern sort of way, and he would have been smitten if he wasn’t currently feeling like his emotions were currently being toyed with by the God of Hunters.

“I am Shaka Shale, a servant of Erastil,” the giant introduced himself. “This is Anjella of Aroden.”

“Anjella Pallaseri,” she said. “It’s tough to be of a dead religion to a dead god.”

“Colt Caudex,” Colt said, and gave a perfectly acceptable half-bow. “Of Magnimar. Thespian and Wizard.”

“That explains a lot as well,” Anjella muttered, but turned away as shouting lit up the night, back from the way they had come.

“The Sheriff asked me to check on how things were in Uptown,” Colt said.

“We came from there not six minutes ago,” Shaka said. “But it seems we may still be needed.”

“Lead the way then, big guy,” Colt said, patting the half-giant on the arm.

The trio moved quickly, up the small escarpment and towards the Cathedral. As they arrived in the town square Colt could see several fights had already taken place here. Now, a half dozen men and women were stood on the upper steps and in the doorway of the Cathedral, shouting and shaking makeshift clubs. Across the square, a half dozen goblins were prancing around, each armed with a torch, as a seventh goblin danced in their little pagan circle, howling a tuneless song into the sky. It’s tongue was out, dyed purple from something it had been eating, and it slobbered on itself and down it’s chest, making Colt realize it had bare, leathery and wrinkled pancake tits hanging from it.

“Fuck,” Colt said.

“What’s it doing?” Shaka asked.

“I can’t say for certain,” Colt said, “But I know a magic ritual when I see one. We need to stop that little fuck before something bad happens.”

***---***---***

The Paladin

In all his time in the wilds, Shaka had tried to avoid the goblin tribes that were scattered throughout the Varisian forests. When left alone, they tended to fight amongst each other, killing each other off in droves as tribes split and merged in a chaotic dance of blood in the dark places of the world. They only became a real problem when something, some outside force, provoked them.

Then they turned from strange thieving lurkers to creatures that would happily roast children over a fire and burn the world down around them.

“Then we stop it,” Shaka said, hefting his ax. The weight of it felt good in his hands, comfortable in a way that he would never have guessed when he first took it up those years ago in the foothills of the Fogscar Mountains. He turned to Anjella, who had proven herself more than capable now - his first opinion of her the previous night, when she approached his campfire, that she was like a feral animal still held. But instead of a scrawny coyote, she was a cougar. Powerful, graceful and deadly. “Are you with me?” he asked.

She frowned and cracked her knuckles with several loud pops. “Someone has to do this,” she said.

“Back us up,” Shaka said to the wizard, Colt.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said. “Just remember that anything that suddenly appears and doesn’t look like it belongs, probably isn’t real. Believe that, and you’ll see through it.”

Shaka rolled his neck and shook his head, getting himself into the right headspace again, then hefted his ax and trotted forward. Anjella followed, staying a clean four steps to his right and out of the followthrough range of his ax swing.

They didn’t yell a battlecry this time - surprise, however thin, would serve them better.

Both Shaka and Anjella broke into a run, and Shaka could just hear Colt casting a spell behind him. Suddenly, from amidst the goblins, a panicked whimpering erupted, drowning out their chanting and the song of the Warsinger. It sounded pained and urgent, and it set the goblins off in confusion.

It was a few steps from impact that Shaka realized it wasn’t panicked whimpering, the echoing magical sounds were a woman have an intense orgasm.

He almost laughed as his first swing clove into one of the torch bearing goblins, sending it’s innards to splatter across it’s compatriots.

The fight was chaotic, the goblins running in circles, half in coordination and half distracted by their own allies. They were fast and short, and both Shaka and Anjella were limited in the kinds of fighting they could use against such diminutive opponents without leaving themselves open to getting overrun.

Shaka backhanded one goblin as he used his ax one-handed to ward off another, and he turned to see Anjella had literally picked up a goblin and threw it two-handed into another, sending both of them reeling.

Then he heard the crack, and the bark, and the howl of laughter.

He spun and saw, halfway between the melee and Colt, the Warsinger had distanced itself and purple magical essence with oozing from it’s lips. A similar purple essence was aura’d around the Wizard’s head as he dropped to his knees, his goblet-implement clanging to the ground. Colt’s hands raised to the sides of his head as he howled inhuman, unnatural laughter uncontrollably.

Shaka took a slash across his calf for letting himself get distracted, and was forced to turn and cleave another goblin in two, as he stepped around two more that were trying to beat at him with their torches.

The next chance he had to look, Colt was still on his knees, face twisted into a rictus of inhuman comedy, and the Warsinger had closed with him. It had a knife, long and curved, and it raised it above its diminutive head for a killing stroke on the defenseless wizard.

“No!” Shaka snarled, but there was nothing he could do.

The blade swung down.

And dropped.

The Warsinger shrieked in pain as it was flung backwards onto it’s ass by the force of the crossbow bolt that had severed it’s knife-hand.

***---***---***

The Ranger

Two minutes to get dressed, most of that time taken up with her scalemail coat. Another to hide her pack sufficiently so that she could be on the move.

Grail Hillfire entered the fight for Sandpoint later than some, but more prepared than most.

Her crossbow sang sweet, staccato songs of death. Each bolt seemed blessed by the Dwarven pantheon, finding its mark in a goblin skull.

Grail was fairly sure she’d killed at least a few of the goblins that had cornered her while she’d been naked and bathing. Just thinking of that was equal parts embarrassing and frustrating. If she’d had balls, they would have been utterly blue. Maybe if they hadn’t turned out to be part of a murderous raid that threatened to burn down the entire town, she could have played it off as just another odd encounter - she’d fucked a tree last night, for fuck’s sake. But no, they’d all rubbed their tiny little cocks in and on her, leaving her warmed up with no satisfaction, then ran off to kill people or something.

So she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt punching holes in them with her crossbow.

Goblin heads were an awful like the training targets she’d grown up shooting at. It came fairly natural to her.

She’d lost count somewhere in the teens of how many she’d killed - she couldn’t rely on her count of bolts in her quiver since she’d been able to recover some of them on the move. Still, for the past ten minutes or so, Grail had stalked the shadows of the east end of town, putting an end to every goblin that set foot on the streets of Lowtown beneath the shadow of the Cathedral.

Running into the Sheriff had been a surprise, but he’d just nodded to her as she was pulling a bolt out of a goblin’s skull and asked if she’d head Uptown while he delivered the three townsfolk he was with to their home.

So she went up the escarpment, climbing the twenty feet of craggy rockface easily, and skulked around the side of the Cathedral. The shouting grew louder as she rounded the southern wing of the building, and she stepped into a running battle.

Several goblins had charged a small militia of townsfolk on the steps of the Cathedral, while across the town square another melee was currently happening. Grail snapped off a quick shot at one of the goblins on the steps, then took a knee next to an overturned barrel and went to work. Seven bolts, five hits, and the Cathedral steps were clear - she’d had to pull a couple of shots as the townsfolk were almost as chaotic as the goblins in their fighting.

Then the laughing started, and she saw Goblin Magic for the first time.

It was disgusting.

Grail cranked back her crossbow string, watching as the purple-mouthed goblin slobbering magic ooze closed in on the man howling with laughter.

“Nope,” Grail muttered, shouldering her crossbow and steadying it on the barrel. “Not today you freak.”

The knife went up for a killing stroke, and Grail made a split second decision and took of the goblin’s arm at the elbow. She could have killed it outright, but there was a chance it still could have landed a grievous wound on the man by accident. So she got rid of the knife.

The townsfolk from the cathedral steps let loose a battle cry as they charged across the town square towards the other fight, trampling the wailing, purple-mouthed spellcaster on the way. Things seemed to wrap up quickly over in the melee as Grail armed her crossbow and swaggered across the square to the man she had saved, who had rolled onto his back.

He was staring up at the sky when she  stood over him, and he gave her an odd look. “It’s you.”

Grail snorted. “Yeah, I’m me. Who are you? Do we know each other?”

“No, no,” he said, still on his back. “I just saw you early today and thought you were stunning. You still are.”

“Alright, loverboy,” she sighed. “Time to stand up, I think that goblin may have broken something in your head.”

He did as she said, rolling onto his knees and standing. “No, I’m being honest,” he said as he went. “You are… wow.”

“I’ve got bad news for you, loverboy,” Grail said. “You’re really not my type.”

“Colt. My name is Colt Caudex,” he said, and gave her a half-bow. “And believe me, I can be your type.”

Grail rolled her eyes. “Doubtful.”

He picked up a golden chalice from the ground and hung it from his belt from a loop. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re too soft for me, Master Caudex. You’re way too soft.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a much bigger presence coming across the square.

“Glad to see you’re alive, Wizard,” the half-giant said. “I thought we were about to lose you.”

Now there’s a fuckin’ man and a half, Grail thought to herself.

“Thanks to my new friend here,” Colt said. “Miss…?

“Grail Hillfire,” she filled in.

“Anjella Pallaseri,” the woman approaching next to the half-giant introduced herself. She was picking up some sort of a vest from the cobbles of the town square and brushing off the dust and footprints, revealing gold threading in an intricate design on the back. “And this walking mountain is Shaka Shale.”

The half-giant nodded, but any further pleasantries were cut off by a decidedly shrill scream echoing from somewhere further north of the town square. There wasn’t a whole lot left of the town up that way, just a few buildings including the White Deer Inn and the northern Town Gate.

A gate they could all see, even in the darkness, was standing wide open.

Without a word, the four of them started to jog towards the scream.

Well, three of them did. Grail didn’t fail to notice the soft ‘wizard’ lagged behind a moment.

***---***---***

The Monk

Anjella slipped her vest on, letting the loose black silk billow behind her as she ran. She rounded the side of a building, the open gates straight ahead but the commotion coming from somewhere on the left. The first building in the town, a towering three stories, was a place called the White Deer Inn - she’d heard all about it already. The owner was Shoanti, and not a friend to the Sczarni family - he was also the brother of the Sheriff.

None of that mattered now. Her muscles were aching, her breath heavy in her chest. The wounds, small and scattered across her body, added into a scream of pain loud enough that she could shunt it to the back of her mind and still be aware of it. Her knuckles were bleeding under the wraps. Her left shin felt like she’d kicked a rock.

It was exhilarating.

The front of the White Deer Inn had a pair of life size deer carvings out front, a buck and a doe, and cowering in between them was the person who was screaming. A few paces ahead of the shrill screamer was a hunting hound of some sort, snarling as it protected it’s master from the small pack of goblins that were encircling the duo. The goblins were clearly wary of the big hunting dog, but they had their own beast. One of the goblins was on top of an equally large… dog? The thing looked like a cross between a big hunting dog and a hairless rodent, it’s skin blotchy and irritated, it’s snout more pointed like a rat, and it’s ears jagged and batlike just like it’s goblin masters.

Anjella didn’t have time to think. As she rounded the corner and sprinted forward, the goblin’s dog-thing lunged forward, snapping it’s teeth at the hound, and the rider swung down what looked like a butcher’s blade tied to a broomstick. The weapon clove into the hound’s neck and it yelped in horrified pain and shock, attempting to escape but now on the back foot. The goblin’s mount charged forward and blood splattered.

All this in the two moments of her wrapped feet pounding on the cobbles of the town street. She jumped, swinging a kick at the mounted goblin as she flew towards it, but the lunge of it’s mount took it out of her reach. She used the momentum of the kick to land rolling, springing back upright and careening into one of the other goblins. Her speed had surprised the lot of them, and Anjella yanked it’s knife hand to the side as she drove both of her knees into the short monsters’ chest, knocking it over and driving it into the ground heavily. She felt it’s body crunch, it’s ribs breaking under her knees, and she leaned forward to roll off of it and away from any particularly fast reacting goblins.

She was lucky, or just right, and found herself getting tackled even as she came upright a second time. The goblin managed to slash her across the arm before she could trap it’s wirey wrist between her forearms. She twisted and broke the arm, the goblin crying out in a raspy hiss as she tossed it away from her.

An explosion of noise accompanied a crossbow bolt impaling the goblin with the broken arm from ear to ear. It dropped, and Anjella pivoted to see the violence being enacted by Shaka Shale. The halfgiant had followed Anjella in, charging quietly but impacting with his ax and a roar. He had driven the goblin dog-beast back, and Anjella watched as he pivoted and turned a backhand swing into a clever slash at one of the unmounted goblins, carving it’s chest open and sending it spilling back to the ground. Shaka and the mounted Goblin became a flurry of movement, Shaka on the defensive against the teeth, claws and butcher’s blade.

Another shrill scream distracted Anjella from finding a way to help the big man. She took three steps and jumped up onto the back of the deer carving, looking down to find a goblin about to drive it’s jagged knife into a wide-eyed human man - the distinctly feminine, shrill scream he was letting loose didn’t match the fine blue coat and once-coiffed hair as he cowered away from the goblin, loosely holding up a walking stick to ward away a blow. If he had even made a single attempt to strike to goblin solidly, he would likely have been able to save himself.

Instead, he closed his eyes and screamed again, and it was up to Anjella to save the pitiful coward.

Anjella grabbed the pommel of the knife as she dropped to the ground behind the goblin, but instead of pulling it up or back or trying the wrench the blade away, she drove it down. Down and back, directly into the surprised goblins chest. It gave a single squeak of surprise, and went limp.

The nobleman, realizing that he had not been stabbed, cautiously opened one eye and looked up at Anjella, and his mouth dropped into a gape.

“You… you saved me…” he mumbled, wide eyed. “Are you an angel?”

“Yeah, sure,” Anjella said with a shrug, already feeling uncomfortable. She turned from the man in time to see Shaka bring his axe around in a strike like lightning, beheading the filthy dog-beast. It’s rider was already on the ground, a crossbow bolt in it’s side and it’s arm hacked clean off at the shoulder.

Shaka dropped to one knee, coughing and hacking, as the dwarf Grail rushed forward, swinging her crossbow over her shoulder. The boy - the wizard - lowered the fancy looking cup he seemed to cast magic from and looked like he was about to fall over from exhaustion.

“Please, beautiful amazon. Your name?” the nobleman said, scrambling to his feet. “Please, I must know your name.”

“Look, don’t worry about it,” Anjella said, shrugging off the man’s hand as he put it on her shoulder. “And don’t touch me.”

“Of course, of course,” he said, raising his hands as if to say he wouldn’t dream of it. “My name is Aldern Foxglove, of the Magnimarian Foxgloves. Please, I- They cornered me here. I thought I was going to die, until you saved my life. You must allow me to repay you, miss…?”

“You can call me Anjella,” she said. “Just Anjella.”

“Well, Miss Anjella, please,” he said, and unhooked a pouch from his belt. A heavy coin pouch. “Take this. It’s all I have on me at the moment, but take it! You deserve that and so much more.”

He thrust it at her, and Anjella was forced to accept the bulging bag or it might have gone airborne and struck her in the chest. “Alright, alright,” Anjella said, shaking her head. “Thank you for the reward.”

“That and more, Miss Anjella. For you and your brave friends!”

“Sure,” Anjella said. The man seemed so earnest in his desire to reward her it was difficult to put her finger on what was making her feel uneasy. He was looking at her hungrily, but strangely not in the way that most men did. It wasn’t lust, it was… awe? Hero worship?

If nothing else, it made her skin crawl thinking that this coward of a man wanted to keep interacting with her.

“Just breathe this in, boyo,” Grail was saying back with the others. Anjella turned again and saw that Shaka was down on one knee, and Grail was wafting some sort of an herb, lit and smoking in a bowl. Shaka’s pale grey skin was strangely flushed around his nose and throat, but as the smoke trickled into him he started to even out again.

So the dwarf is useful for more than her crossbow. It wasn’t the magical healing the half-giant had produced, but it was something. More direct use than she’d seen out of the wizard boy.

“All of you, please,” Aldern said, stepping forward with her as she joined the others in the open street in front of the inn. “I shall see you rewarded. Your bravery will not be forgotten, not by Aldern Foxglove!”

“Did someone say reward?” The wizard asked.

“Yes, yes. I have some ideas,” Aldern said. “Come find me here on the ‘morrow, or perhaps the next. I have a room in the White Deer, I shall organize a grand reward for you all. And especially you, my fair Miss Anjella.”

Anjella bit the inside of her cheek, feeling the weight of the coin purse in her hands. If this fop wants to rain money on us, who am I to deny him? “We’ll find you, Foxglove.”

“Wonderful. Good! Yes, indeed.”

“Perhaps you should head inside,” Shaka said, finally rising to his full height. Aldern’s neck, just like everyone else's, had to crane back to look the half giant in the eye.

Aldern had to shake himself for a moment from the shock of the sheer size of Shaka. “Ah, yes. Yes, that seems like a good idea.” He turned back to Anjella. “Until we meet again, fair Amazon.”

He bowed, full from the waist and arms to the sides, and backed away towards the front door of the inn.

“Dead lord,” Anjella muttered, rolling her eyes and turning to the others. “Get me out of here.”

The four of them quickly left, the sound of Aldern knocking on the locked front door of the White Deer Inn fading behind them.

“That was a risk, Anjella,” Shaka said when they were back on the main street. “Running ahead like that, you were alone for a long moment.”

“Don’t you treat me like a child, you slow fuck,” Anjella said. “I did what I needed to. I was fine. You need to keep up.”

“He’s not wrong,” Grail said. “It was a risk. But good on you for taking it.”

“What did that twit hand you, by the way?” the wizard, Colt, asked.

Anjella realized she was still carrying the money pouch, and she lifted it for the others to see. “Coin. Whatever he had on him. I’ll share it out once this is all over.”

“I think it might be,” Shaka said. He’d completely ignored her barb at him, and his lack of reaction just made her want to punch him. Instead he was looking out past the Cathedral walls, back into the town square as they kept walking towards it. “I don’t hear any more fighting.”

It was true. As the four of them entered the square, townsfolk were slowly leaving the Cathedral, the crowd dispersing down side streets and heading back to their homes, while others began to pick through the wreckage of carts and stalls. Standing on the steps of the Cathedral were the head priest who had run the ceremonies throughout the day, and a man Anjella had specifically wanted to wait as long as possible before meeting. The Sheriff.

Shaka, of course, headed straight for them. Fuck. Stupid, fucking do-gooder!

“Abstalar,” Shaka said. “Sheriff. Am I right in assuming things have settled down?”

“Shaka, welcome back to Sandpoint,” the Sheriff said, holding out his hand to let the half-giant’s engulf it in a firm grip. “You are. As far as we can tell, the last pockets of goblins were driven towards to Old Light and decided to try jumping off Junker's Edge and into the sea. My guard are still combing the streets, and we’ll be checking building to building once the militia have reported in, but for now it seems like this is over.”

“Not exactly the danger I was trying to tell you about earlier, Sheriff,” Grail piped in. “But a good point on my warning nonetheless. Y’all need to prepare!”

“What is she talking about, Sheriff?” the Priest asked.

The Sheriff shook his head. “Nothing to worry about right now, Father. And you, miss dwarf, I hope you understand if I might push back our meeting another day. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Do what you need to,” Grail shrugged.

“Master wizard,” the Sheriff said, blatantly changing the subject. “Good to see you were able to take charge up here. I’m glad you stepped forward. Sandpoint is safer because of you.”

“Ah, well,” Colt said, brushing off the front of his coat and looking somewhat sheepish. “It was a group effort really, Sheriff. I wouldn’t want to claim the credit like that. Miss Grail, Miss Anjella and big Shaka here were all quite independently heroic in their own rights.”

And you barely did anything, Anjella thought. Not that I saw, at least.

“Well, all of you,” the Priest said. “I would heap blessings upon you, if I had any energy left to give them. Exhaustion is setting in, and I am sure I will be working with the Sheriff into the night and comforting those who have been traumatized by these events.”

“Yes, thank you,” the Sheriff said. “All of you. The four of you are visitors to our town, but risked your lives to help those around you. I’ve had reports about all four of you from my guards, and other townsfolk. Sandpoint owes you a debt, heroes.”

“No, Sheriff,” Shaka said, raising a hand. “Please. It was only the right thing to do.”

Oh, fuck off! Anjella thought, gritting her teeth and trying not to say anything to draw the Sheriff’s attention.

“Not that we would turn down any, ah, gifts or boons the town might bestow on us,” Colt said, stepping forward. “Sheriff, we haven’t been properly introduced. Colt Caudex, arcanist and thespian.”

The Sheriff shook Colt’s hand firmly, with a look in his eye that gave more respect to the boy than Anjella could understand. “Well, Master Colt. For now I’m sure the least we can do is find you a place to rest - the danger seems to have passed, and your particular services are no longer required. If you head down to the Rusty Dragon Inn, I’m sure the town would be happy to cover your stay for the next week.”

“Excellent,” Grail said. “I need a fucking bath. And a bed wouldn’t be amiss.”

The Sheriff nodded and clapped the dwarf on the shoulder, and then he was in front of Anjella. “And you, miss…?”

Anjella bit the inside of her lips for a moment before forcing a smile. “Anjella Palliseri, Sheriff. And a week’s stay at a clean Inn is more than welcome.”

He nodded and clapped her on the shoulder as well and met her eyes. He was so stern faced she couldn’t tell if he was just naturally like that, or if he was trying to send her a signal like ‘I know who you are and who you’re connected to.’ It was an uncomfortable thought.

***---***---***

The Paladin

Shaka settled onto the chair, hearing it groan underneath his weight as most chairs usually did anywhere other than back in his home village. Really, most chairs, beds and everything else in towns and villages like Sandpoint were built for the average sized human or smaller - dwarves, halflings and the like could all fit in or on a chair or bed made for a human or elf.

There weren’t many folk the size of Shaka and his people.

The four of them, Shaka, Anjella, Grail and Colt, all sat at the round table in the back of the Rusty Dragon common room. The Inn was busy, both travelers and locals gathering in equal parts in either somber desire for drink, or a celebration of life. Both were valid reactions in Shaka’s opinion - many of these people had never experienced something like the goblin raid before. Even some of those at the table.

“Colt Caudex, you need a drink,” Shaka said.

The human man had been staring at the table top, his hands flat on the smooth, worn surface. He blinked and looked up at Shaka. “I think I really do,” he said.

In short order Anjella had poured out the coin purse that the nobleman from Magnimar had thrust upon her. Just under fifty gold, easily a season's income for any common farming family. It was an astounding amount to drop into someone's lap, and even split four ways it could cover a month living in a fine Inn like the Rusty Dragon for each of them.

“First round’s on me,” Grail said, scooping up her share and turning to head towards the bar, but was stopped by the approaching owner of the Inn.

“No, first round is on me,” Ameiko said loudly, calling attention from the other patrons of the Inn. “Any friend of Shaka Shale is a friend of mine, and after what you all did tonight I think the entire town will be lining up to purchase your drinks for a while. Isn’t that right everyone?”

Many in the bar stood up, loosing a cheer.

“Ale for the Heroes of Sandpoint!” Ameiko said, sliding a platter onto their table, seven large tankards on top.

The drinking began, and Shaka drained his first in one go, his hand wrapping around the tankard as a regular man might a simple cup. He took up a second and sipped at it, smiling at the cold wash down his throat.

“Shaka Shale, if I didn’t know any better I would think you might actually be enjoying yourself,” Ameiko said, taking a seat at the table.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Shaka said, but smiled. He had first met Ameiko out in the wilds when she and several other young folk had been out ‘adventuring.’ They had been tracking rumours of a tribe of cannibals up near the Fogscar Mountains - at the time Ameiko had been bright and sunny, quick with a song on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. She’d also been smitten with a priest of Shelyn who had been about her age.

“Of course not,” Ameiko said. She patted his big knee, which didn’t fit under the table. “You know, that first time I saw you, I wasn’t sure whether you were even real or not”

“That’s because you were half drunk on the poison of a whipper thorn,” Shaka laughed, remembering how she’d been getting half-dragged along by her friends through the forests.

“Very fair,” Ameiko said. She looked around the table at the other, and saw they were all busy with their own conversations. “Now, tell me about your friend there, Shaka,” she said, nodding towards Anjella. “Are you two together?”

Shaka sat back and shook his head. “No, no. We met on the road, not even a full day ago. Happenstance brought us back together during the fighting. She is… prickly.”

“So you’re not planning to bed her, then?” Ameiko asked.

Shaka had been taking a sip from his tankard, and sputtered in surprise at the bluntness of the young woman. “I’m sorry? Ah, no,” he said. “Not that she isn’t- But she and I… It’s been..”

Ameiko grinned. She had matured since he’d last seen her. It hadn’t been so long ago, but gone was the softness in her cheeks and around her eyes. And now she stood a little taller, a little more self assured - or rather she sat as such, lounging back. She was more than a rebellious youth - she was a woman, she owned her own Inn.

“Sorry, big man,” she said, looking anything but. “I just figured, with your blood up and all, and knowing how your magic tends to affect people, you might have had some thought as to how you’d spend your evening.”

“It’s been a long time since I planned anything more than a spot by a fire,” Shaka said.

Ameiko stood, only just as tall as Shaka sitting down, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Well, since you’re out of practice - it’s been a while for me too, though not so long I would bet. Shaka Shale, would you like to share my place by the fire tonight?”

Shaka blinked, and then drained the rest of his drink and looked her up and down. Anjella’s words from earlier in the night rang in his ears, ‘You don’t know anything, do you?’

She was a woman now. Her hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, rubbing at it as she raised a delicate eyebrow and waited for his reply.

“Ameiko,” Shaka said.

She leaned down and put her lips to his ear to whisper. “I want you, Shaka. I ask for nothing more than a night, at the moment. Our blood is up, and the Stag Lord isn’t against mating season, is he?”

“It will not be easy,” Shaka said quietly, trying not to be heard by anyone else. “It will not be gentle.”

Ameiko pressed her body to his back, leaning her head over his shoulder and looking him in the eye. “When did I ask you to make love to me? I want to fuck.”

Shaka set his tankard down and stood to follow.

***---***---***

The Wizard

Colt took a moment to himself over at the bar. It had been one hell of a night. He’d been chased, slashed, stabbed, and his mind had been turned into a cackling mess by a gods damned goblin. Shaking his head, he took another drink. He had fresh gold in his pocket from the Magnimarian minor nobleman they had rescued, he had free room and board for the night at least, and he was alive.

There was one more thing he needed.

Colt turned back to the room and put on a smile. His first choice, the dwarf beauty Grail, was currently in some sort of an argument with a group of men who looked like local trappers. He could have likely slid into that discussion easily enough, but redirecting the buxom dwarf might prove difficult and she had already made it plain to him that she was going to need to be a long term project.

His second choice was going to be the svelte innkeeper herself… Fuck! Ameiko was standing next to the half-giant, hand on the man’s shoulder as they spoke to each other closely. Shaka looked uncertain, but Colt could read the suggestive stance of the young innkeeper easily. As he watched, Shaka’s expression turned determined, and he stood and followed Ameiko towards the kitchens and ducked under the doorway, closing it behind them.

Colt sighed and went over to the table Shaka had just left, sitting down in the chair next to the fourth member of their little fighting group. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What?” Anjella asked, her brooding interrupted.

“The half-giant and the innkeeper,” Colt said. “I’d have thought most women would be, ah, hesitant to engage with a man his size.”

Anjella snorted and smirked. “You don’t know a lot of women then, wizard.”

“I don’t think I can agree with that,” Colt smiled. Anjella was leaning back in her chair, her feet propped up on another and the black vest she wore hanging loose, exposing her tightly muscled abdomen and bound chest. She was, by Colt’s standards, a very attractive woman, just a little rough around the edges for his usual go at things. “In fact,” he continued, “I’m actually quite the Shelyn’s Thumb, if you know what I mean.”

“I assume that’s some poetic way of saying you sleep around a lot?” Anjella asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say poetic. It’s just a saying in Magnimar for a man who knows his way around a woman,” Colt said.

“Right,” Anjella said, and looked him up and down quickly. “If you try and whammy me here with some magic to seduce me, I’m warning you that I will rip your dick and one of your balls off with my bare hands. I’ll leave you one testicle so that you can’t claim to be a proper eunuch, and to remind you of what you lost.”

Colt swallowed the hard nugget that seemed to have formed in his throat. “I wouldn’t even think of it,” he said.

“Good,” Anjella said, and nodded.

“So… how about I prove-”

“Just stop talking, wizard,” Anjella said.

“Fine, that’s fine,” Colt said, holding up his hands. “I’m not offended.”

Anjella turned with a raised eyebrow, looking him in the eye for the first time in the conversation. Then she burst out laughing and slapped him on the arm.

Ow, he thought, but kept it from his face.

“Good for you, Colt Caudex,” Anjella said. “Just keep your pecker away from me, yeah?”

“Understood, Anjella… I’m sorry, I can’t remember your last name.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” she said, and took a drink. “You should know though, someone’s been watching us since she came in the door.”

“Hmm?” I asked, and looked around

Standing over against one wall of the common room, speaking with a couple of other younger townsfolk, was Colt’s redhead temptress. She had changed from earlier, wearing a new shirt that bared much of her shoulders and light skirts that seemed more suited to the middle of summer than early autumn, and she’d braided her hair and was wearing a little crown of yellow wildflowers. When Colt looked over, she brightened, smiling broadly.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Colt said to Anjella. “I believe there is someone a little more receptive to my good nature and witty charms waiting on me.”

“Good luck,” Anjella said, tipping her tankard in a mock salute.

Colt stood from the table and approached the redhead, who left the other townsfolk and crossed the room, meeting him halfway. “Miss Shayliss,” he smiled, bowing and taking her hand to kiss it.

She tittered and blushed appropriately, putting her other hand to her bountiful chest. “Master Colt, I’m relieved to see you survived.”

“It was naught but some troubles. My part is done, but we may all want to sleep lightly tonight. Who knows what other dangers might be lurking,” Colt said. “Do you perhaps feel secure in your own bed, or would you wish for some entertainment to stave off the dark?”

Shayliss’ smile slid into a smirk, and she stepped forward and took Colt’s arm in hers. “I think, Master Colt, I would very much like to be entertained. Perhaps some dancing?”

“I love to dance,” Colt grinned.

“And then, if I remember correctly,” Shayliss said, leaning in to whisper closer to his ear. “I believe you mentioned a chance at a private magical show?”

Colt nodded slowly. “Yes, I think that can certainly be arranged.”

“Then let’s get the dance floor moving,” Shayliss said, pulling Colt towards the small stage where a lone lutist was currently playing notes for ambiance. “And see where the night takes us?”

***---***---***

The Monk

It wasn’t so long after the wizard left the table that Anjella decided she’d had enough. Shaka, the big fuck, had gone off with the Tian woman and disappeared, and now Colt was embodied with the redheaded village girl - and that was bound to just go so well for him.

For a brief moment she felt a little guilt at pushing him away so thoroughly. Not that she would have slept with him at all, but she realized she could have at least been more friendly. If nothing else they were staying in the same Inn for a week.

And she couldn’t lie to herself, she was feeling lonely. Back in Korvosa she’d had a life full of people. Her mother and siblings at home, the congregation at the Shrine of Aroden however dwindling it was. Even the Sczarni gangs that ran the fighting clubs had become a fixture in her life. Now, tonight, she could either stay where she was and find some local rube to talk with, or she could head back to her Uncle’s bar and start settling in with his gang, and she knew how that would likely turn out.

No, Anjella thought to herself. She wasn’t going to settle for a grubby farmer or a weasel sneak-thief. She had pockets full of gold. I deserve better than this after the day I’ve had.

So Anjella drained the last of her drink and stood, and finding the dwarf woman Grail holding court over at another table she approached.

“Aye, lass?” Grail asked, looking over her shoulder to Anjella.

Anjella leaned down close and whispered in her ear. “I heard there’s a brothel, well staffed, down the street. I’m going to get myself a bath and a massage, and a room for the night. Would you like to share?”

Grail slammed her hands down on the table. “Sorry, lads. I’ll need to finish this story later, my friend has dire need of my services!”

Soon the pair were out of the Rusty Dragon, heading down the lane. They quickly found the Pixie’s Kitten, marked on the quiet streets by the two big, burly Shoanti men standing guard at the front door. It was a tall, three-story building squashed between two warehouses that backed onto the Sandpoint docks. “My uncle says it’s the only one in town,” Anjella told Grail as they walked up. “Here’s hoping there’s room.”

The two men guarding the door eyed Anjella and Grail for a moment, then one nodded to the other. Each of them wore a thick leather tunic, their arms bare but whirled with tribal tattoos. One had half of his head shaved, revealing a thick knot of scars from the slash of a beast’s claws. The unscarred one opened the iron-bound door and stepped in, motioning for Anjella and Grail to follow. They found themselves in a stout room, with another door leading deeper into the building and a big safe built into one wall. “Weapons on table,” the guard grunted in broken common. “Will get back when leave.”

Anjella, who had left her shortsword at her Uncle’s much earlier in the day along with her traveling pack rather than carrying them around the festival, spread her hands wide to show she wasn’t carrying even a knife. Grail, on the other hand, grunted and unslung the pack she seemed to carry with her everywhere. Her crossbow was swinging from the side, along with a hefty hatchet. She unbuckled a belt from her waist, two box-like bolt quivers showing she was running low on ammunition after the fighting. There was also a long knife strapped to that belt. She finished by pulling another knife out of her boot, and put the whole thing up on the table.

The Shoanti man considered Grail, then knelt beside the dwarf and began patting her down. “Careful there, big fella,” Grail warned as the man felt around her sizable tits and down her sides.

“I don’t think he even flinched,” Anjella said. “But he works at a brothel, so maybe he’s used to tits like yours.”

“What a life to live,” Grail shook her head. “Maybe I should settle down and guard a brothel.”

“Pay’s good,” the Shoanti man grunted, standing back up. “But boring.”

“I can’t see him being wrong,” Grail said.

“Enjoy stay,” the man said rotely. He opened the inner door, ushering the women through, and closing it behind them.

Beyond the doors, the main lounge of the Pixie’s Kitten brothel was a lush swathe of velvet furnishings and gilded wood. There were a half dozen men and women customers lounging and drinking, chatting together in semi-clothed states and to another half dozen folk who were working the floor. A woman, in her early middle years with the tanned skin of a well-traveled Varisian or a Shoanti, smiled and came around from speaking with a striking elf woman working behind the bar. The hostess was beautiful, wearing her age like a fine wine, and was dressed in a fine dress and robe that showed off her bountiful cleavage but made it clear she was not likely working as the others were.

“Welcome, friendly strangers,” she said, sweeping towards Anjella and Grail. “I am Madam Kaye, and this is a place of rest and relaxation.”

“Baths,” Grail said, looking around curiously. “We definitely need baths.”

Madam Kaye looked Grail and Anjella up and down, her smile never slipping but her eyes taking in the rough clothes and signs of violence. “This I would be happy to provide you, dear ones. A little bird flew in earlier and spoke of Heroes who helped save the town. A bath, with fine soaps and perfumes, will be prepared for you with our thanks.”

“That’s kind of you,” Anjella said, nodding. She glanced down at Grail, then bit the inside of her cheek as she looked back at the Madam. “I’m not sure about my friend here, but I was also interested in some company.”

“Ah,” Kaye smiled. “Well, while we are not as diverse in our offerings as our neighbours down in Magnimar, I would say my friends here provide a breadth of entertaining possibilities. Do you have any preferences?”

“Someone with soft hands and a big cock,” Grail said. She rolled her thick neck and it popped loudly. “I had an… experience and need a good scrubbing, and then a good fucking.”

“Of course, of course,” Madam Kaye nodded. “I know just the gentleman to help you out. And you, miss?”

Anjella sighed. “Someone with big hands. More than anything I want a massage. I don’t care otherwise.”

“I think she may be busy right at this moment, but I have a friend that is well known for her hands, dear one,” Kaye said. “Will you be wanting separate rooms?”

“We’ll share, it’s fine,” Anjella said, getting a nod from Grail.

“Well, I shall have the baths prepared. Feel free to see Visette at the bar if you would like a refreshment - again, on the house for this evening as thanks for your work. I’ll have someone come and fetch you when your room is prepared.”

“Thank you,” Anjella nodded, and then followed after Grail who had made a straight shot for the bar.

Visette, the elf behind the bar, was a spindly thing still showing the signs of youth that an Elf in their first century bore, but she wore a pendant between the swell of her little tits that was a circle with three points - the sign of Calistria, goddess of lust and revenge. Anjella had met members of that faith before, back in Korvosa, and wouldn’t have been surprised if the girl was an apprentice of some sort sent to listen, learn and if needed kill someone if her church ordered it.

It didn’t take long, only about half a drink for Anjella and a full one for Grail, before a young human man approached them from the grand stairs across the lounge. He was pretty in the way that young men could be, clean shaven with aristocratic features that spoke of Chelish heritage, but the coloration and size of a Shoanti. “Mistresses, your room is prepared,” he said.

“Mm, good,” Grail said, and turned to Visette behind the bar. “I’ll take another to go.”

Equipped with another drink, Anjella and Grail were led up to the second story and down a lavishly carpeted hallway lined with heavy oak doors. Noises echoed from several of them, some the muffled sounds of passion, one the sharp cry of someone in pain, and from one the sharp sound of someone sobbing.

“Apologies, Mistresses. It has been a stressful time for some of our guests,” the lad said. He opened a room for them, large with two copper tubs steaming with hot water.

“Fuck, yes,” Grail said, stepping in and immediately beginning to pull off the scale mail coat she wore.

“If I may, Mistress?” the lad asked. “My name is Ludo, and I’ve been asked to take care of you this evening.

“Ludo, eh?” Grail asked. “You got a big cock, Ludo?”

Ludo smiled demurely. “I do have certain blessings, Mistress.”

“Good,” Grail said. “Help me get naked, then you get naked too and you can scrub my back.”

The lad stepped forward and deftly began helping Grail out of her armour and clothes, but turned to Anjella. “Apologies, Mistress. Farrain will be seeing to your request, but she just finished a session with another guest. She will attend shortly, you may disrobe and relax in the bath until she arrives.”

Anjella nodded. “That’s no problem for me at all,” she said.

“Yeah, come on, Anjie,” Grail said, already half naked as she kicked off her pants, revealing a thick pelt of reddish-brown pubes between her stout and muscular legs. “Get fuckin’ naked. This is a fuckin’ brothel!”

***---***---***

The Paladin

Ameiko shut the door to her bedroom, turning and pressing her back to the door. She had led Shaka through the kitchens and out to the back of the building where her own rooms had a separate door to the building. She’d let Shaka in, and he now stood in the middle of a comfortable room not much unlike any other inn room, except it was cluttered with the collection of things someone settled into a life accumulated around her.

Ameiko’s strange lute-like instrument, a relic of her Tian heritage, was one a stand in the corner and the mantle of the hearth was decorated with various nicknacks from around town. Her dresser was overflowing, there was a satchel spilling out from under the bed that had more clothes there, and hanging on one wall was a painting of the Magnimar skyline.

“Comfortable,” Shaka nodded.

“I didn’t bring you here to take the tour, Shaka,” Ameiko said, stepping forward and reaching up with both hands to take his face and bring it down to her. She kissed him, pressing her lips to hers, and he slowly wrapped his arms around the woman and breathed her in.

It had been… Well, it had been a long time for Shaka. Holding her, she felt small in his arms, but insistent. Her tongue pressed against his lips, and he allowed her access, and she hummed a moan as his own thick tongue played against hers.

She began unclasping his cloak, and Shaka had to stop himself from simply ripping her blouse off of her.

In a rushed flurry, they disrobed themselves and each other. Ameiko’s boots, a maroon leather laced up to her thigh, were easier to take off with help. Shaka’s heavy garb, followed by the long shirt of chainmail, hit the floor with a thud and Ameiko ducked to unlacing his britches with glee. Her eyes, a wonderful almond color, went wide when he was revealed.

“Well, this is going to hurt,” Ameiko said, and licked her lips.

“If you’re not sure-” Shaka said.

Ameiko smirked and grabbed his half-hard cock with both hands. “No, no. I meant it’s going to hurt in the best way.”

Shaka was a half-giant all over, and his tool matched.

Ameiko was a lithe woman, with the soft curves of a woman who could well become a matronly mother, or remain hard and lean, depending on the life she would live. Her honey gold skin had a warmth in the light of the fire, and she had a spiraling dragon tattoo not only on her right upper arm, but also another on her left hip, twisting in on itself all the way to under her breast. Her areolas and nipples were a puffy cones, and a pale pinkish brown, and her pubic hair had been trimmed into a tight, dark tuft.

Shaka breathed in, his chest like a bellows, as he took her in.

“Well,” Ameiko asked, putting a fist on her hip. “Nothing to say?”

He shook his head. “Just making sure I’ll never forget this.”

She blushed, but her smirk didn’t leave her lips. “I don’t think I could forget this if I tried.”

They embraced again, and now they felt each other skin to skin. Ameiko’s lean body feeling soft against Shaka’s large, muscled body. His skin remained a pale granite color across his body, and Ameiko was clearly enamoured with his equipment as she once again put both hands onto his cock, and then slid one of them down to feel at his heavy sack.

“What did I say about tonight?” she asked.

Shaka responded by picking her up and tossing her onto the fur-covered bed. Ameiko whooped as she flew, and landed with a bounce on the fresh straw mattress. Shaka was back on her in an instant, flipping her over onto her stomach and then up onto her hands and knees. He grabbed her by the hair, wrapping his bing fingers in the black strands, and used his other hand to knock her legs wider. Ameiko followed his silent direction willingly, arching her back and growling a moan at the feel of his big hands on her body.

With one finger, Shaka tested her cunt and found it wet with her excitement. Still holding her by the hair, he set one big foot up on her bed and leaned in, bringing his cock in line with her.

Ameiko’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she released a guttural, wordless, “Huuuuuuggh,” as he entered her, the thick spongy glans of his cock splitting through her lips and stretching her in a way she hadn’t felt before. During her time adventuring she’d had some experiences - with allies, with enemies. In back alleys and out in the wilds.

Never had a cock so thoroughly stretched her out and claimed a piece of her.

“Tight,” Shaka grunted, holding Ameiko in place by her waist as he forced another inch of his cock into her.

“Well I hope I am,” Ameiko panted and laughed. “Gods, fuck. If your cock was a sword I’d say it’s a Bastard and be done with it.”

Shaka pulled her back, shoving more of himself inside.

“Yes! Yes, oh, fuck, Shaka. Fuck,” she gasped.

Shaka leaned forward, letting go of Ameiko’s side and hair to grab onto her shoulders, his big hands holding her firmly, and he thrust.

“Ungh,” Ameiko squeaked.

Shaka thrust again, and was greeted with another squeak.

Ameiko turned and bit his big finger.

“Augh,” Shaka said, pulling away and shaking it in surprise.

“Are you going to fuck me or not, big man?” Ameiko asked, looking over her shoulder at Shaka with eyes were screaming her lust.

“I’m going to fuck you through this bed,” Shaka said. He slapped her ass, his big palm able to cover her entire cheek and making her cringe in pleasure and pain. “Remember that you asked for this.”

“I-” Ameiko was cut off as Shaka reached forward and wrapped his hand around her throat, his big forefinger curled up and inserting into her mouth and shutting her up. With a handle on her shoulder as well, Shaka began to use the woman thoroughly.

He plowed her, mounted like a beast as she growled and whined as if she were in heat. When she came, Ameiko passed out briefly and awoke to Shaka lightly tapping her face. As she stirred, he flipped her onto her back and plundered her all over again, spreading her legs wide with his hands on her thighs. When she began to fuck back at him, grimacing and grunting as she rolled her body to meet his thrusts, Shaka made her hold her own legs and he palmed her bouncing tits with one hand and covered her chin, mouth and nose with the other, smothering her as he crushed her beneath his body and continued to fuck his tool into her.

Her eyes rolled back again as she came for a third time, but she didn’t lose consciousness this time. She put a foot up into his face, pressing it against his cheek as she kept pounding her, and he caught it in his teeth and chewed on her toes lightly, making her squeal from the feeling of his pig tongue prodding between her toes.

Using that foot, Shaka then lifted Ameiko off of the bed and crushed her to him upside down. Her face was suddenly filled with the vision of his veiny cock, and he buried his tongue between her legs, delving deep and sucking at the juices and cream that his hard fucking hard brought out of her.

“Mmph, muk,” Ameiko slurped at his cock head, not really able to fit more into her mouth from the angle. Frustrated, she wriggled and then grabbed Shaka’s cock hard, drawing his attention. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the head of the bed. “I want to ride this horse cock.”

Shaka sat, swinging his big legs onto the bed, and Ameiko skewered herself on his fuckstick again, working her way down onto it.

“Fuck, I might never fuck again. My pussy is going to be as loose as an echoey cavern,” Ameiko laughed breathily. “Please tell me you aren’t small for a half-giant.”

Shaka snorted and pulled her into his arms, “Not that I’m aware of.”

Ameiko began rotating her hips, grinding her small body against his, and groaning as she felt his massive tool deep in her guts.

“Have you ever killed anyone with this thing?” she asked after a moment. “I feel like I could wield it as a club in case of an emergency.”

“Not yet, and I’d really rather not try,” he said.

“Yeah, but what a way to go,” Ameiko laughed. She grabbed his jaw on either side and pulled him into another hard kiss, which she ended eventually by biting his lower lip. “Where do you want to finish?” she asked.

“Inside you,” Shaka said.

Ameiko raised an eyebrow. “You trying to say something, Shaka?”

“It’s only natural,” Shaka said. “And it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Just think, your belly swelling, your teats filling with the milk you’d need to feed my half-giant son. Marked as my breeding mare.”

“Oh, fuck, why is that so hot?” Ameiko whimpered, beginning to rise and fall on his cock now. Shaka had one hand on her ass helping her, and the other cupping her face as he fed her his big thumb to suck.

“Of course, you might have twins - they run in my family, but they say it skips a generation and I wasn’t a twin.”

“Mmmm,” she moaned, then spit out his thumb. “Fuck, I’d split open at the seams, Shaka.”

Shaka leaned forward and whispered in her ear as he crushed her body against his again. “I want to fill you to the brim,” he said. “But I assume you have the proper tea?”

Ameiko nodded. “I have a stock from Hannah. We’ll be fine. It was a fun thought, though.”

Shaka licked her from neck to jaw to ear, his big tongue teasing her, as he squeezed her tightly. She was still rising and falling on her cock, but she felt like a doll in his arms and that she was simply being used.

She quivered and came again, and this time Shaka erupted as well, boiling over as he came though his thick cock, pulling her down as he filled her.

They ended up collapsing sideways on the bed, laying in each other’s arms. Ameiko awoke first, and curled in tighter on herself as she enjoyed the feeling of his big body around her. “You know, I’ve fantasized about this since that night at the fire,” she whispered.

“Hmm,” Shaka hummed, deep in his chest.

Ameiko smirked. “I’m happy you’ve come to town, Shaka.”

“Happy to be here,” Shaka said, gently stroking her back as he reveled in the feeling of her.

His cock finally softened enough to begin falling from her, and Ameiko groaned as she felt the ooze of his cum spilling out of her. “Fuck,” she grimaced, and put a hand to her well used cunt to stop the flow as she rolled from his arms and stood. “I don’t want this on the bed furs.” She found a rag on the floor, some sort of old shirt, and pressed it to herself to staunch the flow.

Shaka stretched and rolled himself, sitting up on the edge of the bed. His cock had gone down to half-hard, still a prodigious looking tool, and gleaming with both of their juices.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Ameiko rolled both of her shoulders and tentatively reached back and felt at her ass, which had the soft start of a bruise from his rough handling. “Well and truly fucked,” she said. “I’d say I could go again when you’re ready, but I need to tell you something, Shaka.

The half-giant frowned. “What do you mean? Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, something very wrong,” Ameiko said. “You stink. You need a fucking bath. The first time it was hot and dirty, but gods Shaka you haven’t bathed in months have you?”

Shaka hung his head, laughing quietly. “Something like that,” he said. “I guess if I’m going to be in town for a while longer, I should probably start to smell like it.”

“Yes, please,” Ameiko grinned, then went over to the second door in the room and opened it, revealing a private privy room that included a copper tub with a contraption set up against the far wall. “The water tank backs onto the main fireplace in the common room, so it will be hot. You might not be able to lay in the tub, but we’re going to scrub you clean if it takes all night.”

“It better not,” Shaka said, watching Ameiko’s naked form as she moved around. “I plan to take another shot at breeding you again, my little mare.”

Ameiko smirked naughtily. “Well, we’ll see, stud. We’ll see.”

***---***---***

The Wizard

“Mmph, yes,” Shayliss groaned quietly.

She had pushed Colt into a back corner of the common room. It was late now, and half of the clientele were falling asleep at the far end of the room while those drunk and full of the zeal of life were spinning and capering on the dance floor as three musicians and a halfling woman with a raucous voice and a talent for remembering the dirtiest versions of folk songs kept them moving.

Colt kissed the redheaded woman again. She’d thrown back her head and he was kissing down the line of her throat. Her hands were in his hair and she was sitting up on a stool, back to the corner. Shayliss had one leg thrown around Colt’s, pulling him closer.

“Yes, you’re amazing,” Shayliss mumbled. “Fucking magical.”

“I haven’t even started with magic,” Colt chuckled.

Shayliss looked down at him with hungry, hooded eyes and then pulled his lips to hers again. Colt shamelessly responded by dueling tongues with her, and palming her wonderfully plump tits.

“More, more,” she whispered into his mouth, reaching down and grabbing his cock through his britches.

Colt slid his hands under Shayliss’s shirt, palming her bare tits.

A song ended, the crowd around the dance floor clapping, and another one started up. It was a stomping song, the building thundering as forty people stomped in time as others danced in the middle of the circle.

Shayliss got Colt’s britches unlaced and fished inside for his cock, running her delicate fingers around its hard shaft and then pulling it out between them.

“Fuck yes,” she said, eyes lighting up as she began to jack him off.

“You are a wild one,” he said, kissing along her jaw to her ear, getting close so no one would see between them.

Only on the wildest of feast nights, in the seedier taverns of Magnimar, had Colt ever been with a woman so forthright and fearless in what she wanted. Well, other than Magnimarian prostitutes - they let you know what they wanted right away. But still, it was intoxicating. Shayliss was this virginal looking woman, blessed by Shelyn herself with beauty and sexual appeal, but apparently with the sexual appetite of Calistria the goddes of lust as well. Her red golden hair was thick and wild from dancing, her skin was smooth porcelain dotted with delightful pale freckles here and there. Her tits - gods, her tits were bountiful in his hands, her nipples rubbing against his palms and begging to be set free and sucked.

Colt caught himself starting to compass a poem about the woman in his head. Her lips, her hands, her ankles - Gods, am I smitten with this woman?

It didn’t seem to matter one way or the other, because Shayliss pulled her skirts up above her knees and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Fuck me, Colt.”

“Right here?” Colt asked, glancing back behind him. The crowd was literally only a step away, and he could see one or two people glancing over at them when he checked.

“I don’t care who sees,” Shayliss said. “I want this cock of yours inside me.”

She had her hands on him, and he allowed her to pull him close. He couldn’t see anything, her skirts in the way as they bundled around her thighs, but he stared into her eyes and she stared back. She directed him to the spot, and he felt the warm, wet of a woman’s ready cunt, the tickling hair of a woman left natural.

Shayliss used her leg around his ass and pulled him forward, and Colt slid inside.

“Yesss,” Shayliess whispered, closing her eyes and relishing the sensation.

“Calistria’s cunt,” Colt gasped.

“Not Calistria,” Shayliss grinned, and kissed him. “Just me. Shayliss.”

***---***---***

The Monk

The door to the room opened and a large woman stepped inside, closing it softly behind her. She was tall, easily a head taller than Anjella, but the varisian fighter immediately hated herself for the next thought - But not as tall as Shaka.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, friends,” the woman said. She was statuesque, naturally broad shouldered with the kind of tits and hips that spoke of a woman born to spit out whelps on a farm somewhere, but she had a light olive green hue to her skin and the upturned tusks budding from her lower jaw that said Half Orc. She was dressed in a shimmering silk wrap, her tits barely covered and her nipples clearly protruding the fabric, and her black hair was pulled back in intricate braids that were decorated with silver and gold baubles.

“It’s no problem,” Anjella said from the bath.

Grail, in her own bath, groaned loudly as Ludo was scrubbing her thigh with a soft scrub brush. The dwarf woman had her entire leg lifted out of her tub, her toes flexing and curling as the lad practically treated her like a washerwoman with a dirty rag, scrubbing away roughly. Apparently that way Grail liked it, and Ludo had figured that out quickly.

“I understand you would like some help with scrubbing your back,” the half orc woman said, “And then a massage to relieve tension?”

“I would, very much,” Anjella sighed and nodded.

The half orc woman smiled, and started to remove her wrap. “My name is Farrain,” she said. Anjella watched her, and Farrain smiled softly knowing that she was being watched. The wrap came away revealing a hard body, thick with the muscle that came from the woman’s orc side. Her tits were amazing, standing firm and protruding, her nipples a darker green hue and as big as the first knuckle of a man’s pinky thumb. She had thick hair around her cunt, a prominent clit hood just peeking from the pelt that despite seeming untrimmed for tidiness, was smooth and uniform in length.

Soon Farrain was running her hands over Anjella’s body, soap in one hand and one of those soft scrub brushes in the other, but she was more peaceful than Ludo. She handled Anjella firmly but kindly, rolling her head this way and that, lifting her arms to scrub down her sides, and to rinse water down her chest.

It was relaxing as hell, and Anjella could have seen herself starting to doze off in the warm water if it weren’t for the ongoing antics in the tub next to her.

“Bring that here,” Grail said, reaching out and pulling Ludo’s naked cock towards her mouth.

He was also naked, the lad blessed with a thick snake between his legs, and he’d been leaning over the edge of the tub and apparently scrubbing Grail’s cunt under the water when she’d decided to move on from bathing. The dwarf woman took Ludo’s cock in her mouth and began to suck, humming her approval as he began to harden in her mouth. Soon she was pulling him closer, and he had to stop scrubbing her altogether as a strange sort of acrobatic display began.

Grail was in the tub, floating in the soapy water, her head back on the tilted copper headrest, her magnificent tits just out of the water and flouncing with their movement, and her knees the only other thing that could be seen though she was clearly fingering her own cunt. Meanwhile, Ludo was kneeling on the sides of the copper tub, balancing himself and holding onto the back of the headrest as Grail gobbled his cock.

“Uhn, Mistress,” he groaned, and grabbed her thick mane of dark red hair and began thrusting into her mouth. This just set Grail to thrashing herself more fervently, the water of her tub starting to splash over the side.

Anjella watched, as did Farrain, as Grail’s body jerked and her tits rose out of the water and she kicked a foot high, splashing water even further over the floor, as she came.

In moments she seemed to have recovered, and pushed Ludo back. “Off, off,” she growled, and Ludo scampered off of his perch, clearly worried he’d done something his client didn’t want.

He shouldn’t have been worried, however, as Grail stood in the tub and turned, the water cascading from her body and her tits hanging underneath her as she bent and presented her thick ass towards her paid lover. “Fuck me, now!” she said.

Ludo was certainly up to the challenge, and soon he was mounted in her and thrusting. Grail had ended up bent over the side of her tub, facing Anjella, her tits bouncing back off the outside of the tub and then forward. “Yes, yes! Fuck me with that magnificent cock,” Grail cried, grinning savagely. She turned to Anjella, “You sure you don’t want some of this, Anjie?”

Anjella glanced to Farrain, who was occasionally glancing at the fucking with interest but otherwise continued her calm cleaning of Anjella’s body.

“No, I’m good, Grail,” Anjella said, leaning back in the tub as Farrain began working on her feet. They were stiff and calloused, and honestly when she unwrapped them a little stinky, and the feel of Farrain’s firm hands working the scented soaps into her souls was heavenly. “Mmm,” she hummed in pleasure, her mouth lower below the water and blowing bubbles.

“Suit yourself,” Grail gasped. She turned and looked over her shoulder at Ludo, her tits bouncing with each heavy thrust. “Grab me,” she said. “Fucking grab me, make me feel you.”

The lad did so happily, first grabbing her tits and squeezing, tweaking her wide nipples, then grabbing her by the shoulders and fucking her hard, pulling the thick dwarf ass back at him.

“Fuck, yes, like that,” Grail growled. “Just, like, that. Pound it. Fuck!” She came again, squeezing her eyes shut and letting her mouth fall open. She lost her grip on the edge of the tub, slumping forward as her ass jiggled and twitched in the air. Ludo pulled out of her, grabbing his cock and squeezing to stop himself from popping.

Grail panted, shaking her head like a dog waking up from a nap, and stood. She stepped out of the tub, and Ludo produced a heavy, fluffy towel and quickly began drying the dwarf off. Before he had even finished, Grail’s foot in his hand as he dried it, Grail said, “If you can get another cock in her in the next three minutes, you can take my ass while I ride it.”

Ludo was out the door, still naked, and Farrain had to stop her work on Anjella to shut it. Anjella wasn’t even sure if Ludo was excited to take Grail’s ass, or if he would wait past the time so that whoever he found would be the one plundering her clean back door.

Grail stretched her entire body, reaching for the sky. “I’m telling you, Anjie, you had the right idea coming here.”

“Glad you came along,” Anjella smiled.

“Come, stand,” Farrain said, holding another large towel open for Anjella to step in to.

Anjella stood, and she knew Grail watched her with some interest. Where Grail was somewhat blocky in her dwarf womanness, with thick tits and thick muscled thighs and a thick ass despite being lean from hard traveling, Anjella was all lithe, smooth lines with womanly curves in her tits and hips.

By the time Anjella was dried to Farrain’s desires, Ludo had returned with a second man, this one a beautiful man with silver in his goatee and a small scar cutting through his right eyebrow. He quickly stripped as Grail felt his arms and chest as if she were taking the measure of a horse she was going to purchase, then she pushed the man back on the bed and mounted him. As soon as he was hard, she sat on his cock and bounced her ass on him a few times before leaning forward and crushing her tits to his chest.

“In my ass now, Ludo,” she said, spreading one cheek herself while her other hand planted on the head of the bed.

Ludo got on the bed behind her, stroking his prodigious cock with one hand as he poured a clear, viscous liquid onto it from what looked like a perfume holder with the other. He slathered the liquid up and down his cock, leaving it shimmering in the light of the candles about the room, before pressing the head to Grail’s waiting hole.

“Ungh, so smooth!”Grail grunted in surprise. Her eyes rolled up and she gritted her teeth as Ludo filled her ass.

“Enough of that,” Farrain said, taking Anjella’s attention back. She led Anjella to the other bed in the room, laying her down on her stomach. The big half orc woman then turned and opened a small cupboard, taking out several bottles. She took a bit from this and a bit from that, rubbing them into her big palms, then placed both hands on Anjella’s back.

“Ooh, fuuuck,” Anjella groaned. Whatever the woman had put on her hands, it felt like she’d been touched by the gods. Anjella had gotten massaged before at the local bathhouses in Korvosa, a couple copper pennies for the cheapest and once a silver after a particularly hard fight the night before. Anjella had no idea what this was costing, and she didn’t care. This, right here, was amazing.

Anjella got lost in the sounds of Grail fucking, and the feel of Farrain’s hands all over her. Her shoulders and back were first, the woman’s strong fingers and thumbs finding aches Anjella hadn’t even realized she had and working them out. Then came the arms, then her hands. Then Farrain reached under her and massaged her upper chest, then ran her hands down and brushed across her tits, teasing her hard nipples, and then lower to her stomach and sides. More work there on her sides, then down to her hips and ass where the pain ended up ramping up again as more knots were found.

By the time Anjella was getting her feet massaged, Grail had been flipped over and now the older male prostitute was in her ass as the dwarf woman bounced on it. Ludo was again in her mouth as he manhandled her bouncing tits. Grail had the glistening trail of one of the men’s spend on her stomach, but neither seemed to have lost their vigor.

It was at that time, her head turned to the side as she watched Grail sucking a cock and taking another in the ass, that Farrain spread Anjella’s leg further open and placed a hand on her pussy.

“Mmmph,” Anjella exhaled through her nose, and she tilted her hips up.

“This too?” Farrain asked, whispering in her ear.

“Yes, please,” Anjella murmured.

Farrain was a professional there as well. Her strong fingers deftly worked Anjella’s cunt, sliding with the scented oils across her skin and through the curls of her bush. She teased Anjella, and Anjella thrust her hips up a little higher. Then softly, almost delicately, one of those fingers Anjella couldn’t see slid inside of her quim.

Anjella whimpered and shuddered.

Across on the other bed, the fucking had shifted again. Grail was on her back, her head over the side and the older man was fucking her face. Meanwhile Ludo had mounted her again, thrusting without abandon as he buried his face in the dwarfs' bouncing tits.

Another finger entered Anjella, stretching her softly. “So good, so thick,” she murmured. She was in a haze, the smell of sex heavy and mixing with perfumes in the air and on her skin. Her body felt warm all over, but tingling with a cool touch. Farrain worked those two thick fingers in her, turning them and rubbing at the front of her insides, finding a point that made Anjella suck in a huge breath.

“There you are,” Farrain murmured, and touched that place again.

Soon Anjella was grinding her hips back and forth, up and down, trying to get more of that feeling. Farrain worked her clit with a thumb, and slid a third finger into her tight embrace.

“So fucking good,” Anjella grunted. “Almost.. Almost… fuck me…”

Then Anjella’s eyes shot wide open as she felt a wet, warm appendage prod at her asshole. “Huh?” she gulped, and then the tongue pushed at her anal ring firmer, and Farrain touched that spot inside of her again, and Anjella buried her face in the pillows and shouted so hard that tears came to her eyes. The orgasm rolled through her like never before - usually she tensed, maybe her leg shook once or twice, and her toes curled when she did it to herself. But Anjella had been turned to putty in those big half orc hands, and the orgasm crashed over her and she felt her already loose body just give out right before her tired mind grew foggy and then dark.

The last thing she felt as her mind slipped away was a pair of lips kissing between her shoulder blades as the fingers slid from his pussy.

***---***---***

The Wizard

Colt stood, naked and sweaty with his cock hanging limp between his legs, and drained the last of the bottle of wine he’d snagged before coming up to his room.

“Share,” Shayliss crooned from where she was laid out on the bed. She was as naked as the wizard, her breasts red from frequent fondling and her legs splayed and revealing her well fucked cunt leaking Colt’s cum. How many times was it?

With nothing left in the bottle, Colt stepped over and hovered his mouth over Shayliss’s, and she opened her lips and allowed him to dribble the wine from his mouth to hers. She chucked in her chest as he did it, and soon their lips had closed on each other as they passed the last mouthful of wine back and forth.

Shayliss was the filthiest woman Colt had ever fucked in all the best ways. But, even as her hot tits pressed against his bare chest, and their tongues danced, his cock remained soft.

Four times. Four! He was happy enough with that performance that another round being out of the question was perfectly fine.

The first had been down in the common room. Fast and quick, with Shayliss’s leg keeping him pinned inside her as she stared into his eyes and they fucked with a crowd just feet from their backs. After that, she had asked if he had a room, and then took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs, her shirt still hanging mostly open from his playing with her tits. That was when he’d grabbed the wine bottle for the disapproving, scowling halfling woman working as a bartender.

The second time had been just inside the door of the room, on the floor with Shayliss face down and her ass in the air. By the third they had made it to the bed and fully naked, and Shayliss had sucked him and then rode him, bucking with passing as she thrust her tits into his mouth. The last had been a lazy fuck on their sides, spooned in the bed as Colt recited the poetry of the elf bard Belinitine for her. Belinitine, who was known to have been a serial womanizer, had a way of making even the simplest passage erotic.

“Mmm,” Shayliss moaned. “Mmm!” She pushed Colt back and looked out the window, where the darkness of the night was slowly turning to a cold blue of the earliest morning hours. “Shit!”

She scrambled from the bed to the floor, gathering her clothes. “I need to get home. Father will wake soon and I doubt even my sister can cover for me then.”

Colt remembered the man, barrel chested and with fists the size of summer hams. He helped Shayliss get her clothing on, and her boots laced.

“When-” Colt started, but Shayliis pulled him into a hard kiss, her wild red-gold hair a splash against her white skin as she pressed herself to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said. “Katrine won’t stand for it two nights in a row, I’ll need to cover for her tonight.”

And then she was out the door, and Colt listened to her boots quickly cross the floorboards and head down the stairs.

He blinked and swayed on his feet, and managed to get the door closed. “That woman,” he said, gesturing to the thin air where an audience might have stood. “That woman will be my wife.”

Colt laughed, and shook his head. “Cayden Cailean’s brass cup, I am drunk.” He stumbled over to the bed and fell first onto it. Then groaned at the wet spot on the sheets, and rolled over a couple of times until he found a dry spot.

He was snoring in moments.