Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Damsels and Dungeons Mark II - Main Thread

xavierrol

Old Dog, New Tricks
Supporter
Joined
Aug 24, 2013
Location
Ohio
Our story takes place in the rich and fertile Dessarin River Valley, home to many an honest farmer and merchant but precious few lords and ladies. Yartar is the principle city of the valley and home to its regional ruler, the Waterbaron. Numerous printed guides can help you explore this historic city much better than your humble narrator, however, of particular interest to the start of our story will be the Inn called One Foot in the Boat, often frequented by adventurers for its modest prices and minimal dress code. Sometimes avoided by the locals due to the frequent bouts of violence that tended to break out with the often well armed clientele. Occasionally it might attract one or two of the fine citizens of the valley, especially if they had a problem that required some amount of violence, courage, or foolhardiness to solve.

At the time of our story, the valley has at least one such problem. A growing menace once thought merely rumor, bad luck, or the protests of deserted husbands who forgot (if they ever knew) how to keep their wives happy. As the number of missing maids and matrons increased over the summer growing season, it became more difficult to explain it all away. But until lately, the victims (if they were indeed victims), were the wives and daughters of peasants and craftsmen, easy enough for a busy Waterbaron to ignore. But now a lady of some breeding, with just enough royal blood in her veins to raise some embarrassing questions from the royal court has gone missing.

The Lelisque Estate, has reported the abduction of one Ciara Lelisque and dispatched a fast rider with the news of her abduction and the passing of her father the next day. Her betrothed, Lionel Archambault a seemingly successful merchant has already petitioned the Waterbaron to send out the Shields of Yartar for an all out search for his soon to be blushing (in his mind) bride. The only problem is, no one knows quite where she has been taken. He has promised a tidy sum of gold as a reward for Ciara's safe return. The steward of the Lelisque Estate, Jarvis Dorset is also rumored to be traveling north to the city, with plans to hire his own mercenaries to search for the missing heiress. The father's untimely demise, no doubt triggered by the trauma of his only child being dragged away from his sick bed, has created both threat and opportunity respectively for the would be suitor and the once faithful steward. While Ciara's claim to the throne is near non-existent, the value and revenue of her properties would allow a man to spend his days without want of coin or comfort.

Word of coin and adventure had already spread and three teams of would be rescuers have gathered at the One Foot in the Boat Inn prior to your arrival. A trio of dwarves with a halfling squaring the table in one corner, a handful of human males that look fresh off the farm with ancient weapons that probably belonged to their grandfather's during the orc wars in another, and finally a couple of big and dumb looking half orcs with a slender hooded figure who looks like some sort of caster. Each group keeping to themselves but eyeing the others suspiciously. A dainty looking elf bard played a lute and sang of tales of adventure, with a tin cup containing a few stray coppers was in the corner. A burly human bartender is behind the bar, serving drinks and swapping stories from his own adventuring days.

It is early evening, the sun setting in the west as you enter the story. The betrothed merchant may well return and the steward is expected in the morning. For now, this seems the place to either join an existing group or find kindred souls you think you can trust.
 
Clara Reinford stepped into the inn and was almost immediately taken in by the story that seemed to have the place in a hubbub. A captured royal, no matter how minor, was definitely the kind of adventure she was looking for. This could be the start of her own story, one that she'd be proud to tell to her children and their children and all the rest of her family. Adventuring ran in the Reinford blood, and Clara was eager to prove that she was no different from her ancestors. She could and would leave her story to be told for generations, to inspire others like the stories had inspired her.

However, as she looked around the inn, she found the pickings slim. She thought joining up with another group would be good, but all of them seemed to be either very shady, or woefully underprepared. The trio of dwarves and the halfling looked like they might be a good group to party up with, but Clara didn't like the way they were looking at the others. It was clear that there were going to be multiple parties going after this bounty, but that didn't mean that they should be backstabbing each other.

Sighing, she took a seat at a table near the bard and tossed the man a copper for his time. She kept her eyes on the other patrons of the bar and anyone else that was coming in. Perhaps she could put together a party of her own. She just needed to find some strong looking new friends.
 
The elven lass had a scowl from the moment she stepped into the tavern. It never left her face, and nobody gave her a second glance. Mostly thanks to a well-covering, thin cloak. It did much to hide her race and identity, but left her daintily figure distinct. But the protrusion of her sheath and a 'piss off' aura of sorts had kept most prying eyes from her.

Normally she was a lone agent, utterly disinterested in partnerships and sharing. But she wasn't an idiot. Some things just worked better in a team. Thus she begrudgingly waited, hoping their contact would get on with it and that her company to be was somewhere around.

Her eyes fell on an adventuress, vaguely around her age. No, younger. She frowned. While the girl seemed vaguely appropriate, she'd have liked a little older. I suppose I look a little shady from this angle. She stepped forwards, deliberately. in moments she pulled out a chair and settled directly across from her. Whatever.

Who knew which of them came first. It didn't really matter. "Going hunting?" She raised an eyebrow, visible beneath her hood. That was enough to feel the waters, right?

Now that she thought of it, the girl could have been a bandit or anything, really. More was the reason to ask vaguely and see what came of it.
 
Alexandria reached the city of Yartar, a little later than she expected. Maybe she should found a better traveling companion than a merchant who had stopped at every village on the way. However, as the sun started to set, she was finally in front of the famous inn called One Foot in the Boat. She slowly opened the innā€™s door and walked in as she removed the hoodie of her traveling cloak and shook her head to let her platinum flew out freely.

Alexandria scanned the patrons in the inn with her brightly burning blue eyes. It was not the first time for Alexandria to visit the infamous inn of the Yartar. And yet, tonight was the most crowded of all her visits to here. Probably the news of the abducted princess traveled fast through all the country. Some of the treasure-hungry dwarves, some orc brutes, and a few lovesick peasant boys with their childish dreams had come.

When Alexandria was traveling, she always assumed that she could join a party of adventurers for a rescue mission. However, all of the present groups seemed like they were here either for fame, gold or princess, herself. The only people who looked approachable were the two ladies sitting together. But since there was no chatter coming from their table, it seemed they were also kind of strangers to each other. Alexandria walked to their table and dropped her backpack next to an empty chair. She took her traveling cloak off her shoulders, tidied it up, and placed it over her bag. When she took her cloak off, Alexandriaā€™s caster robe has revealed. Her robe was more like a pink and white bikini set decorated with jewels with see-through clothes serving as a skirt rather than a practical spell caster robe.

"Gosh, I hate traveling long distances... totally, so boring and not comfortable at all!" Alexandria talked to herself. "I should have bought that scroll of teleportation... I should have..." her monolog continued as her eyes locked at an emptiness behind one of the women she was now sitting together.

She shook her head and returned herself to present before greeting the women whose table she just sat down without an invitation or permission. "So tell me, girls, are you ready for a good bar fight? Because I can totally hear the silence before the storm." Alexandria asked as she pointed toward the other tables with a childish and cute grin on her pretty face.​
 
Clara's eyes looked up at the elven woman that came over to her and asked if she was going to go hunting. "Less hunting and more of a search and rescue." She answered the woman with a grin. "You interested in going after the money... or the glory?" Both were nice, but Clara was much more in this for the glory, but she wasn't going to turn down the nice reward either.

As she was speaking to the elven woman, she watched the mage come into the bar and walk over to their table and sit down. She raised a brow as the woman asked them if they were ready for a bar fight. "Well... I'm not going to go and start anything, but... things do seem quite a bit tense in here I agree." She grinned though. She hadn't even had to go and start asking others to put a group together. "I'm thinking... we could use just one more. What do you all think? And then we can go and try to find our little kidnapped royal and then come back to riches and glory."
 
ā€œI just want to rescue the princess, I mean, she should be feeling horrible and I cannot even imagine what kind of things she had to go through...ā€ the blonde sorceress to the woman. ā€œOh, like there was my manners. I am Alexandria, Alexandria Chillingwind. But most call me Lex or Lexxie for short.ā€ After a short pause, with a blush on her pretty face, she added ā€œI have been called other things too but I don't want to talk about them right now...ā€

When the woman mentioned that they would use one more, Alexandria patted her lips with her index finger and struck a thinking pose. Then she nodded her head as she agreed with something and started to talk again after her hands run through her hair to fix and took them over her face. ā€œMaybe we can also join with one of the existing guys? The more is the merrier, right? Well, of course, that would come with its pros and cons if we decided to go with any of those guys...ā€ She said as her eyes wandered over the three tables of the parties who were probably aiming for the same thing with them. "I mean, those peasant boys look like they will be just a burden to us. And those greedy gold hungry dwarves probably will try to get everything for themselves. about the green skins, I cannot be so sure, I mean, they will try to rob, kill, rape, or eat us on the way probably..." Alexandria was so carefree as she talked about her opinions about the other parties, and probably so loud too. There was no chance that her words will be unheard.
 
Avri was piqued immediately. Well, that as a lucky catch. There was only one case of that which really mattered in these parts, at least for money or glory. She shrugged. "A payday's nice," she stated mildly. 'Glory' was the last thing to worry about. It was about as good for her as doing it for the decency. Well, maybe that was a little higher. But mostly money.

The mage stood out, and their exchange paused for the new arrival. She found the table rather quickly, and introduced herself even quicker. All awfully convenient, she mused with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't the most professional band in the world, but you worked with what you have. It wasn't like Avri was best dressed beneath her cloak. A thick skin and the right lotion made wearing much unnecessary, and she wasn't about to go in full armor. "I'd rather not encourage idiots," she muttered bluntly with a scathing glare to the table in question. "Too much drink and too bored to be useful."

She glanced back at the companion across from her. Her eyes hit the magic user briefly before settling. "Why not. Maybe it would be nice to know who we are though. I'm Avri."

Her eyes turned again to the caster of sorts, wondering what sort of spellwork required so little. I'm not throwing stones, just... it couldn't be just her who found it quite recognizable. Avri wasn't the greatest at playing defense...
 
The entrance of three attractive females had not gone unnoticed by the groups of males gathered at the inn. The conversation lowered audibly with each entrance but soon picked back up but now included references to various lady parts and what one might do with them, especially from the dwarves. The farm boys looked somewhat longingly with puppy dog eyes at the lovely adventuresses, except for one who seemed more intent on drinking through the night than anything else. The half orcs and their hooded companion were quieter, but their looks were more sinister, perhaps creating a chill down the spine of a weaker soul.

Alexandria's rather unguarded statements added to the rivalry between the groups. The dwarves raised their ale glasses as they were not about to deny their lust for gold, exceeded that of female companionship, though not by much. The farmboys blushed as their pride was damaged, the puppy dog eyes taking a more feral tone as even a dog will only take so much abuse before biting back. But they kept their seats for now. It was the smaller of the two half orcs, though small could only be used in relative terms to his companion, who rose from his seat and approached the empty side of the ladies table. His eyes roamed Alexandria's heavily exposed form before he set two meaty fists on the table and leaned forward, his weight making the wood table groan in protest. His thick arms showed sculpted muscles running beneath his green skin with numerous scars and body art to show off his high pain threshold.

His smile revealed more pointed teeth to match the large tusks protruding from his lower jaw. When he spoke it was a low growl easily heard by each of the girls easily enough though probably not at the other tables. Looking to Clara first he spoke slowly. "We were just ready to venture out..." Turning to Avri he continued. "...to the red lantern district..." He then looked right at Alexandria. "...but since you whores have come to us, the only question is, what is your price?" He snarled with a satisfied grin as he looked to each one for their reaction.
 
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Avri and Lexxie." Clara answered the two as they introduced themselves, she offered a friendly hand to each woman. "The name's Clara Reinford." She said. Some people might have known of her family, though they weren't nobles. Reinfords had long been adventurers after all. "Sturdy shield and sharp blade. If we do end up working together, I'll do my best to protect you both." While the girl didn't look physically intimidating really, she still was wearing a heavy suit of iron armor as though it weighed nothing.

She sighed as Alexandria's statements. "Maybe some things would be better left unsaid... even if I do agree with you." She suggested and looked over at the various groups that the girl had just disparaged. The farm boys weren't going to be much of a problem it seemed, and the dwarves seemed to take it as a joke. That was one of the things she liked about dwarves, they always had good humors, or at least the ones she had met had.

That left the half orcs, one of which did seem to take offense and walked over to them. He made an impressive display of his strength. Clara gave him a completely unimpressed reaction and sat back in her chair, she twirled a long raven lock of hair around one of her fingers. "I'd settle with a simple castration... though... that might not make the night particularly fun for you." She answered the man's snarl nonchalantly.
 
After brief hesitation, Akri accepted the hand. Protect me, huh? Her slender wrist betrayed a clean, if subtly muscular figure. Still, she was well kept as far as the stereotype of an adventurer. Really, she reflected, all three of them were unusual in that sense. Which explained the increasing glances they attracted, but especially after the exchange regarding the other table.

In retrospect, the scantly clad caster had spoken poorly. It reflected Akri's feelings she didn't think more of the words or concern herself with the responses. The peasant boys were indeed next to useless, the dwarves were sooner not the finest company - though she didn't bear a grudge, and their manner now helped that impression - and the orcs especially piqued a slight loathing in the elven figure. She'd never identify as elven herself, that is - but she doubted an orc would know the difference, or at least they never did before regarding her. Perhaps it was the lighter complexion.

She shifted as the orc's fists dropped. Tough little brute, aren't you... she thought whist glaring with a clearly baneful gaze. One hand slipped into her cloak, the other tensely remaining at the edge of the table. It would be a bitch to drop him, but if he was going to cop an attitude, she wasn't going to let it bite them later. If not now, then perhaps once they were out the door... they were savage, not - well, completely - stupid. Though she kept a close eye on the newcomer, for the first time it was at the expense of active awareness behind her.

"Take a boot to the cheek and I might let you lick it," she muttered quietly, deliberately putting the orc under some pressure to hear. The words were venom, and she noticed the bite just after. After Clara's response let alone her own, a scuffle or a travel risk were almost assured.
 
Alexandria happily shook hands with the two women. Both of them were looking like capable warriors. ā€œNice to meet you, girls! Hope that we will rescue our princess!ā€ Alexandriaā€™s voice was loud and cheerful.

Then she realized her earlier comments about the other parties were heard by everyone. Luckily, dwarves took her opinions as a joke while peasant boys got a little bit heartbroken. However, the main issue was the green skins. One of them couldn't hold it and had carried it away. He even came to their table to insult them. Her new companions instantly reverted back to the Orc with insults back to him which would probably raise the tension between them even more.

ā€œLadies, please, take it easyā€ She tried to calm down her new friends. ā€œHe is probably the youngest of his pack, and probably he just wanted to show how much of a big and strong orc he is by bulling three young girls in an inn.ā€ She talked to Orc who was standing by their table. Alexandria returned to face her friends again and continued. ā€œI am totally sure that, he will realize this move will show the rest of his friends only how weak-minded he is, and eventually he will leave us alone.ā€ After a short pause, Alexandria turned towards Clara and started to talk like a teacher would talk during a class. ā€œDear Clara, you should know that after the great orc war, the orc and other green skin populations had greatly decreased. So for the future, I strongly suggest you not to consider castration as an option.ā€
 
They say that discretion is the better part of valor. And by that standard, Nemera Leath was a particularly valorous individual.

Just donā€™t call me ā€˜heroā€™. Nem had never had much use for busybodies like the Harpers or the Grey Hands, always poking their noses into everyone elseā€™s business an the most inopportune moments.

At this particular inopportune moment, Nem was valiantly surveying the situation in a particular little tavern from a wall-side table. Nothing so gauche as a shadowy alcove or, gods forbid, a nook. Or, for that matter, obvious. First place someone would look for those up to no good. And lets face it - being up to actual good rarely paid the bills.

Not that Nemera wasnā€™t on her best behavior. Or at least a reasonable approximation thereof. This wasnā€™t exactly her normal stomping grounds, and the Hand might take exception if any major marks went down, or if someone dropped a load of goods on a local fence without what passes for credentials around this place.

Yartar. Yaaar-taar. Sounds like a lovechild between orc and frog.

It was, in Nemeraā€™s opinion, a particularly poor name for a city. Luskan, Silverymoon, Neverwinter, and of course Waterdeep ā€“ these names had a euphonic note of class and civilization to them. Even further south, they had names like Scornubel and Calimport. Mulmaster. Arabel. Names that didnā€™t sound like someone had just taken a map and jotted down the first thing that popped into their head. And what happens to cities with dĆ©classĆ© appellations? Phlan, Yhaunn, Tantras. Cataclysm and catastrophe.

But at the moment, this particular city seemed to be between bouts of interdimensional rifts or arcane plagues. At least, Nem hoped so. This disappearing people thing was probably more bandits and less extraplanar infiltration.

She was dressed plainly ā€“ to avoid too much attention ā€“ but effectively ā€“ in darks and blacks in case disappearing into alleyways and over rooftops became necessary. The style of her outfit was common and non-ostentatious. If not for the absence of frayed patches and beer stains, Nem might pass for a conservatively dressed and off-duty barmaid. At least, if you ignored the color scheme.

She had been ā€“ valiantly, of course ā€“ considering the various adventuring bands that seemed to be filling the tavern, when two of the groups came to inevitable confrontation. There were two women and the barā€™s stripper ā€“ honestly, Nem hadnā€™t thought One Foot in the Boat to be that kind of place, but you never knew in these boat-centric towns. Sailors were a colorful lot, after all. But anyway, those three were facing off against a couple of bigger greenskins with their presumably hired beanpole caster.

Not a particularly fair fight.

Nemera had to do something. And that something was to begin eying the half-orcs and their pet spellflinger for anything easily stolen while they were distracted. The Hand wouldnā€™t mind a little casual enrichment, surely.

Or at least, theyā€™d be less likely to notice, what with everyone focused on the confrontation.

And that was more or less the same thing.
 
As the Horc eyed Alexandria's nearly nude form, he drooled with desire, a thick glob forming near one tusk, clinging valiantly to his lip for a few moments before falling and splatting on the table. "Castr...caster...? We have caster as well, very powerful." Though he wasn't quite sure of the big word she used, it sounded enough like caster that she must have been talking about that. Had he known what she really meant, he might have taken that as an unfriendly thought. "Ah yes, I like to lick you, but not boot, boot no good for licking, no flavor, but nice big breasts, yes, I lick. But you must wait turn, I pick this one first." He said and with an iron grip on her upper arm pulled Alexandria from her chair and sat there himself. pulling her side saddle into his lap, her ass landing hard enough to make her boobs jiggle in a most Horc friendly way.

The larger of the orcs stood to join the little party, his grin a menacing display of tusk and tooth. He looked much like his smaller sibling but a bit bigger and uglier, though the ugly scale for Horcs could be somewhat in the eye of the beholder.

The caster remained at his seat, watching, pulling his hood back to reveal a once handsome face now scarred and worn by weather and hard living. He was not small for a human, but merely looked small in comparison to his companions. He looked mildly annoyed but not enough to put a stop to his randy friends.

The small orc's hands gripped the blonde's bare flesh, caressing and groping, but he wasn't openly injuring her though he wouldn't just let her get up and make a run for it either.

The dwarves looked on with interest but kept their table. The sober farm boys seemed concerned but uncertain. The drunk one however looked up in disgust, then stood from his table. He swayed visibly but steadied himself on their table. He brushed away the hand of his mate that tried to hold him back. Compared to his friends he appeared courageous but it may have merely been the liquid kind. "Unhand her." He said, but the Horc ignored him as did the one coming to join them.
 
Clara had kept her seat casually until the smaller half-orc grabbed her new compatriot and pulled her into his lap. She stood and bared her blade with a flourish, the iron sword flashing in the light of the tavern's light. She narrowed her eyes at the half-orc, and she also brought up her shield, ready for a fight.

"Now... as I see it we have two options here." She said, staring intently at the half-orc. "You let her go and go on your way." She said. "Or... you lose your hands. Your choice." Her eyes looked over to Alexandria to see how she was handling the situation in the moment. The orc did have a grip on her, but Clara was confident enough in her abilities, and sober enough to know her strike should be sure to get her free from the orc as long as the caster was calm.

She then raised a brow as one of the farm boys came over and tried to play the hero as well. She sighed. A drunk only would throw a wrench in the works, you never knew how one was going to react or what they were going to do. She could only hope he would serve as a decent distraction and not get in her way.
 
Akri was normally quite calm, but this orc validated every negative stereotype she held. Not as quick to rise and threaten as Clara, she still came to her feet slowly, one hand out of sight, the other deadly still on her side. She pinned the orc with a blank, yet discreetly malevolent gaze. But her eyes turned to the larger of the two. Was he emboldened by this display? He could prove a bit of a problem, and if something broke out she decided he would be a touch more important. It was another stereotype that orcs were unskilled and dumb, but in the sense of combat she knew that might not be true. It depended, a lot. Her eyes turned to the caster, who she leveled with an exasperated and slightly disgusted eye roll. Unless he made out to be a friend, he could certainly be just as bad. Vaguely attractive by human standards, if worn. She might have had similar marks if she wasn't aware of tricks to keep her form in god shape. A false sense of fragility only helped when she needed to act.

Nothing like their maiden adventure being against a party that was admittedly far better endowed in sheer strength at least. Briefly she glanced at Clara, and shook her head very slightly with the boy. She didn't see how it was going to end amicably from here, but she glanced back at Alexandria. Scant yes, perhaps even a touch of harlot. But a caster like that who made it this far surely knew a trick or two, and so she opted to stay and respond when necessary to see what her plan would be. You did get us in this, she thought with blunt cynicism. She hadn't noticed their soon to be fourth member at all.
 
Alexandria didn't even have enough time to protect herself reflexively and ended up on the Half orcā€™s lap like any tavern wench would be ended. The rough landing on the orcā€™s lap was nearly making her big tits pop out of the tiny top of hers, but thanks to the Tymora, Lady luck she could manage to keep them bounce freely with one hand as her other arm warped around the half orcā€™s neck to find some support herself. Red marks of the half orcā€™s fingers on her arm were already started to fade as her newly met companions jumped off to their feet and on their guard. Clara was even armed and looked ready to strike.

The blonde caster felt the throbbing member of the half-orc on her leg that gave her a funny idea. As the bigger orc approaching their table, Alexandria quickly invoked the arcane powers in her veins. A few words came out of her pretty lips as her target shamelessly groping body. The words completely meaningless to those who have not studied arcane arts before. However, anyone who wasn't a stranger to art would instantly understand that she was casting a harmless little curse on her molester. Then she slowly turned towards her friends as the half-orc she was sitting on started to reduce in size until he was smaller than the halfling who was sitting with the dwarves. Once, the big and towering half-orc now was barely tall enough to reach Alexandria's hips.

ā€œGirl, what was I just telling about the great orc war and their population?ā€ She said with that teacher's tone in her voice again. She put her hand over the half orcā€™s head and she patted it slowly as she was caring for a child. ā€œthis little boy seems like he just wanted to with his big sisters, probablyā€ Alexandria raised from his lap slowly and then scold the now belittled half-orc ā€œbut first you must ask your big sisters that if they want to play or not, right?ā€ She patted on his head again. ā€œyou have been a bad boy, now go to your table and think what big sister told you ok?ā€ and she hushed when he tried to talk back to her then she led him toward the bigger orc who was on his way to her table.
 
Nemera notices the scantily-clad stripper woman trying to defuse the situation by hitting on the two half-orcs. Probably offering to sleep with them. It would be unfortunate if violence didnā€™t break out in the crowded bar, but there was still hope the situation could escalate. However, time was short. Eying the casterā€™s belt, Nem seeks out the most coin-purse looking one.

The problem with casters is they carry so much shit. Sometimes literally.

But hopefully one of them would have the familiar curves of coin distending its sides. Keeping her head raised towards the commotion, she skillfully uses side glances and peripheral vision to monitor her quarry. Gnawing at her lower lip in feigned concern, she makes her way indirectly past the villainous caster. Or at least the one with aggressive friends. That was solid justification for a bit of personal thievery. Not that Nem needed justification, but it was nice to have a thinly-veiled excuse to do what she wanted to do anyhow. Warms the cockles of the heart and all.

Fingers snaking out, she attempts to liberate the manā€™s presumably ill-gotten gains from his personage, while fluidly moving past. Nemera was a fan of style and panache, but she was a bigger fan of escaping notice. Or, failing that, just escaping in general.
 
The 'small' Horc was enjoying his sudden bounty, his arousal growing beneath Alexandria's scantily clad bottom. His enjoyment seemed slightly diminished as Clara (NSFW) threatened him with her sword. When she made special note of losing his hand, his closest hand disappeared up and under Alexandria's top, though in truth it may have been headed there even before the threat. He squeeze the firm orb with his rough green hand, the extra tension on her small top finally being too much and it popped off, exposing both her breasts and the hand Clara threatened to remove. Alexandria might hope that Clara's sword was as precise as her words to ensure her boob didn't join the Horc's hand on the floor.

Akri's attention to the larger orc was well founded as he approached, unfortunately the drunk human's stagger path of righteousness, placed him between her and the larger Horc who's momentum seemed to increase as Clara drew sword and shield. The drunk tapped the shoulder of the molesting Horc as if he were cutting in for a dance at the harvest dance instead of trying to foil an aroused half orc fighter. The orc grabbed the drunk and threw him towards Akri, who could either catch him or dodge and let him fall to the floor.

The 'large' Horc bounded his last few steps and rather than try to bypass Clara's shield for an attack, threw his massive weight against it. The collision took her from her feet and sprawled her out across the table. It would be all she could do to keep her sword in hand, her shield arm a bit numb but not seriously injured. "He's just being friendly, if you want to draw blades, I'll dance with ya lass." The large Horc's deep voice filled the room as he laid his hand on the grip of a large sword.

The large Horc heard the sound of Alexandria's voice, he knew not the words but knew a spell when he heard one. "You fool!" He spat at the smaller orc for starting such trouble with the odds not clearly in their favor. His eyes went wide as he saw his companion shrink beneath the now topless caster. His lips curled into a grin as he saw the effect and how she treated him like a child. The small orc was in a near panic but he was still strong and still quite randy. He tugged at the bottom of Alexandria's brief clothing, she would need to use her hands to stop him if she didn't want to be stripped bare.

The human caster watched with rapt attention though he had little interest in getting involved if he didn't need be. But he was adequately distracted to give Nemera an advantage in her thievery. She came away with a pouch that clinked like coins, though even her skilled ears might struggle to tell gold from copper, unless of course she were foolish enough to check in plain sight of her victim.

I let her roll 2D6 (5,3) to her victim's 1D6 (3) in my very subjective opinion this seemed fair. Success!
 
When the larger Horc crashed into her, Clara let out a yelp as she was taken off her feet and sprawled out across the table. She quickly moved to get back to her feet though, sword still well in hand, bringing up her shield and her blade once more. "We have rather differing opinions on what is friendly." She looked over to Alexandria to see how she was doing and saw that the smaller Horc was now even smaller, practically a child but was still working on stripping her. "What the..." She said for a moment before turning her attention back to the larger Horc.

"Tell him to leave her alone." She said as she gazed at the man's large sword. He'd have a reach and power advantage, but with such a larger weapon, that would allow her the agility advantage, or at least it should. She'd have to truly dance around the burlier Horc. A feat easier said than done in the heavy armor she was in. However, she had been training all her life for situations just like this. She just had to put everything she knew into practice, if things did get worse from here.

"So... what do you say, are we all going to go our own separate ways, or... is this going to be a dance?" She asked the larger orc.
 
Akri hadn't given the drunk a proper glance before. Now she did, and it was followed with a grimace. He couldn't possibly be serious. No, he's drunk. Perhaps he wants to bed one of us too. Yeah, right. About the only consolation Akri had was being unmolested for the moment. Two out of three couldn't say the same. Still not doing good. But that left her an advantage as the discreet one of the three. Only that caster would prove an issue, possibly...

As expected, the boy's trick wasn't very good. As much as Akri had a mind to send him to the floor, she compromised by taking a measured grip of his side and shoulder and steering it to the table. It was sure to sprawl them both for a moment, but it was better than the floor. "Stay down, you idiot," she snarled as she pulled herself back, hoping that Clara wouldn't knock the poor boy clean off as she sprawled. If she did, she probably wouldn't notice. But Akri had a more important idea.

Though an obvious perv, the smaller orc was vaguely safer at the moment unless he decided to play hostage. The one that drew his blade and had considerably more mass, though... she slipped around the table, though it was more of a discreet walk as she made her way up behind, quietly drew her wicked short sword and tapped it on his back.

"Give it some thought, or you might be doing two dances," she advised him with remarkable calm as she stood at ready, with a careful distance in her positioning to avoid too much hurt from a quick swipe. Again her awareness was largely singular, but at the back of her mind was the caster. About the only thing saving her just yet was the idea she was there to de-escalate, not harm.
 
As Alexandria scolding the ā€˜littleā€™ orc, she saw that he was still after her and reaching for her bottom skirt. She slapped his little green and dirty and which was groping her tits a few seconds ago. ā€œGosh, just fuck off little man!ā€ She said as she stepped away from his reach. Then she realized she was the center of attention for most of the male patrons of the inn. She couldn't understand why was that. But a sudden a cold evening wind gave her nipples a teasing wind. Her eyes got widen then dropped on herself. Alexandria quickly covered her freely bouncing tits and saw that her favorite top on the ground. ā€œoh, to hell with their population issues!!ā€ she yelled as she kicked the ā€˜littleā€™ half orcā€™s balls roughly. The hit was not hard enough to cause any real harm. However, it was hard enough to make him dazed for some time with agony.

Alexandria quickly dove in to grab her top from the floor. She quickly fixed her top had a look around her to analyze the situation. The elf girl, Akri, looked like she was fully alerted but not so willing to get in any trouble. While Clara looked ready to clash swords with the huge orc in front of her. Alexandria was really sure that she saw Clara flew to the ground when the orc had crushed on her shield. However, now they were talking about dancing...

ā€œHey, Big guy let's forget about this none of us want a scene here in the middle of a freaking inn! Just take that little green shrimp and sit back to your table...ā€ She tilted her head toward to 'little' half-orc. In reality, all Alexandria cared about if they damage the innkeeper's property, he would make them compensate it. Which would be a complete nightmare for her. especially, after she had to spend most of her savings on the merchant for the journey to Yartar. She was also checking the ā€˜littleā€™ half-orc and ready to kick his balls once more if he ever tries any silly moves on her. Moreover, Alexandria spotted a newcomer, a sneaky girl was lurking around the caster who was sitting at the half-orc's table.​
 
Success! Nemera quirks a hint of a smile as she makes her way to the bar and slips onto a stool, turning so that her torso is screening the caster from watching when she begins to see what she scored. But thatā€™s not happening yet. Bar workers pay more attention to those who just sat down, and so she first says, ā€œIā€™ll have a Suzail Sunburst.ā€

After a momentā€™s pause, she tilts her head slightly to the side, ā€œI hope those adventurers donā€™t cause any trouble. Iā€™m pretty sure that one over there is a spell-tosser. I heard thatā€™s what happened to the Laughing Lamb in Silverymoon. With all the alcohol, sometimes one rogue spell is all it takes.ā€ The proprietor was surely already monitoring the situation, but thereā€™s no harm in sending his attention elsewhere.

Only then does Nemera begin to check out the contents of the pouch, using the need to toss some coins on the bar to pay for her drink as cover. Once done, she starts mentally drawing a map that will allow her to flee behind the group of dwarves should trouble break out, sipping at her drink if she was brought one. Dwarves usually had good stuff, even if they did smell a little.
 
"Aye that is a nice pair, I wouldn't part with my gold for a feel of 'em but maybe some silver." Was heard from the dwarves table as Alexandria's breasts went on full display much to the amusement of the stocky shorts who ordered another round of ales as the night was getting more interesting.

The large Horc's eyes traveled the length of Clara's splayed out body on the table, while she didn't show much flesh, she had a pretty face and her armor was curved enough to at least suggest a womanly figure beneath. Supposing it wasn't all padding beneath she might be a good bed warmer once deprived of her weapons and armor. He looked eager to take the chance on it until he felt the sharp poke of Akri's short sword in his back. "Let's not be hasty now , there is enough of Gronk for both of you." His arrogant assumption meant to taunt the ladies and possibly encourage some foolishness on their part which might turn the tables back in his favor.

"The goblins took her! They're working with them." The drunk human spat out as he laid out across the increasing crowded table next to Clara after Akri had shoved him this way. "I loved her and they took her." He cried again, his breath smelling of too much ale as he tried to convince Clara of his sincerity.

The caster had been set to let things take their course until he saw the flash of Akri's blade and decided he needed to be involved. With several discreet hand gestures he cast his spell. The wood planking of the floor, the table and even one of the chairs began to sprout new growth. Strong vines grew up out of this growth, spiraling up Akri's shapely thighs, entwining her legs then her arms to bind her sword hand so she could do little more than scratch the Horc's back with her sword.

Alexandria had successfully scolded the diminutive Horc who had tugged at her skirt until he kicked him in the family jewels. He doubled over in pain, but that same pain disrupted her spell and he grew back to full height. This time when he grabbed her barely there bottoms she was lifted from her feet, the thin yet strong material pressing into the cleft of her shapely ass and squeezing between her nether lips in a full scale wedgie which had her tumbling forward onto the table with Clara.

The bartender was quite familiar with spell slingers and was not easily frightened. He kept an eye on the action however as he got Nemera's requested beverage, which took a fair amount of his attention as well. As he slid it in front of her, he leaned close, still facing the chaotic melee which for him was just another night at One Foot in the Boat. "The drink is on the house, but the house takes half the take when lightening our patrons coin purses. Unless you would rather take it up with the Hand?" He told her, mentioning the local thieves guild and figuring she didn't want that kind of attention.
 
Clara scrunched up her nose as the drunk man had landed next to her and she caught the smell of the man's breath. She didn't pay him any mind. She was sure his story was probably close to the truth, something was abducting women in this area, after all, but she had other things to worry about rather than some man's sob story. She raised a brow as she saw the vines snaking out from growths from the floor, table, and a chair and binding one of her new compatriots. She wasted no time in her course of action, getting up and dancing around the burly Horc while slashing at the vines in an attempt to get Akri free and to keep them with a numbers advantage in the moment.

As she worked to free Akri she also caught sight of what was happening to Alexandria as the other Horc grew back to size and was manhandling the caster. Things were not going well in the moment. She had to focus though. Get Akri free first, then Alexandria, and with any luck they could get the tables to turn back into their favor. Each of the other girls seemed skilled enough, and she had confidence in her own ability to take the larger Horc one-on-one, they just needed to get to that point.

What was clear, was that attempting to persuade the men to stop wasn't going to work, even with a sword at his back, the larger Horc saw no reason to back off, so they were likely going to have to fight.
 
For a moment, the drow had an edge. The orc - for that was all it was to her, regardless of any negligible difference in biology - ran his mouth, but her point served its purpose. And then came the new presence on her leg, spiraling beneath her cloak and taking grip on her skin with threatening pace. She cursed loudly.

Not one, but both feet were firmly rooted. Not to mention from multiple directions, creating a crude web of growth to lock her in place. Her effort to sidestep failed, as did a very short lived swipe that only played into the vines and brought down her sword hand. For a moment she raised her free palm to support, then figured perhaps that wouldn't be wise. And so she made a pitiful sight, swearing at tendrils of green that visually clashed with her uniform grey, a single hand outstretched to the side in a bid to avoid anything worse. She glanced up, staring at the caster with hatred. For who else would have done it? "So it's a fight you want then," she snarled. Though it wasn't loud enough to carry, her expression and lips were clues enough.

Of course, that was easy to say. How exactly was she supposed to get out of this? There were trinkets, but they assumed she could reach at her waist, and again she didn't dare it. Fierce tugs sought to break the concentration of a weak-willed spell, but it was immediately clear there was just a bit too much strength to it. Gods, I hate magic.

Clara proved willing to save the day. Her swipes gashed the tendrils, but for the moment it only bought her time to pull with a mighty yank... and proceed to stumble back, with the effort only effective on some vines in the span of a few seconds. She took the opportunity to struggle, hoping the topple would put her just out of sight and at a mild advantage. Awkward, but she'd take it The drow could land with some grace, and hopefully stay out of the larger orc's attention long enough to scramble free. Assuming the vines would relent, and hoping dearly the caster wasn't stronger than already show to make the situation much worse...
 
Back
Top Bottom