Down and Dirty in Utopia's Wasteland (Imp Wasteland X Hamano)

[ImpWasteland]

The planet Aleria floated in the void, a blue pearl with sweeping wisps of milky clouds against the blackness of space—a nearly perfect gem if not for the sickly purple fogs that ebbed and flowed throughout the continents. Once luscious and full of life, it is now left festering as a gaseous plum of wild magic covering large swaths of the land.

When magic turned to madness, civilizations fell and chaos reigned. Only when a rare show of unity occurred did the leaders of the surviving nations organize into dozens of grand fortress bastions against the Hell Fog. As these so-called Utopias rose, the Hell Fog washed the majority of habitable lands with its sinister energies, creating monstrosities from regular flora and fauna.

Most creatures exposed to the mutagenic energies of the Hell Fog grew in size and were driven mad, while plants developed their thirst for blood and flesh. Vast, silent forests arose, creating paradises for vegetation for trees, grasses, and vines after consuming all non-plant denizens within. In other areas, bears, mountain lions, and wolves grew monstrously large as they stalked their territories. Many rodents and insects became all-consuming swarms like a rabid plague, needing to continuously pillage the lands lest they begin to starve and become cannibals. People were no less affected by the Hell Fog. Humans, Elves, Orcs, Goblins, Felinids, and the many other races fell to the violet fogs that flowed through cities, towns, and villages. Upon exposure, many died while many more rose from their resting places as Husks, the undead that rose as gross mockeries of life. In the shadowed corners of taverns, there are whispers that not all these Husks lost themselves entirely.

Other rumors suggested that the day magic went haywire was when the gods went missing. Believers had felt their ever-watchful presence vanish, while those with the most devoted hearts who had been able to channel aspects of the divinity found their gods could no longer hear their prayers. When the Hell Fog began surging over the lands, pushing the remaining populations to the edges of hospitable lands, all hope seemed lost. During these darkest hours, pockets of power capable of pushing back against the Hell Fog appeared. It was at these locations that the Utopias arose. As mysteriously as the fog appeared, so too were these protected areas. Many still argue that the divine had returned and used their holy powers to hold back the apocalyptic fog.

While many Utopias held steadfast over the centuries after the day global ambient magic fractured, some still fell. Swarming beasts, ravenous plant monsters, and civil unrest all contributed, in one way or another, to the death of far more than one Utopia. Each fallen bastion was another ringing of Death's bell.

Eventually, the world came to reach a balance. The stronger of the Utopias remained while the weak had been ground to dust under fate's boot. The Hell Fog gradually ebbed backwards, leaving vast swaths of land no longer blanketed and uninhabitable. Still, the monsters and mutations remained, making establishing new towns and villages a perilous endeavor. Soon enough, the influential leaders of most Utopias began banning the construction of new towns. Leaders would say that it was a necessary cost to keep the people safe, while dissenters claimed that the decision was a power play to keep those seen as lesser under their thumbs. In truth, both opinions could be seen as correct. The powerful would always seek more power, while the weakest would always seek to escape from those in control.

As a compromise, the practice of Spirit-Bonding, or just 'Bonding,' became more widespread. At first, seen as a necessary means to combat monsters capable of killing dozens in seconds, a ritual that would permanently bind a mortal's soul with that of an extra-planar spirit had been developed. These 'Chosen' were granted powers to manifest abilities and strength beyond comprehension, but not without a cost. In the early stages during the worst of the Hell Fog's deathly embrace, Chosen had drastically shortened lifespans and physically changed while taking a risk, as a powerful spirit could overwhelm the Chosen's will and steal their bodies. These uninhibited spirits would rampage on the battlefield or during the ritual, becoming enraged, suicidal berserkers.

Time and refinement inevitably led to a much less risky and vastly more intimate bonding process. A few hundred years ago, becoming a Chosen was seen as a death sentence saved for criminals and the poor. To become one was either a punishment or a last resort. Always seeking power, once the bonding ritual had been nearly perfected, it became a rite of passage for those high-born bloodlines and those with the potential to do so. A new social hierarchy had been born in the upper echelons of citizens, as not all spirit-bonds were the same.

The other planar entities that willingly, like humanity, were not born equal. These spirits took as many forms as stars in the endless sky. Each spirit had the chance to be capable of great destruction, while others were capable of only minuscule endeavors. As such, not all Chosen are sent into the wilderness to protect from the creatures that go bump in the night. More than half of all Chosen, rich or poor, end up with gentle or weak spirits capable of enhancing menial tasks.

While the Utopia, Golden Harvest, whose top trade is agricultural, prizes those Chosen who can harness the earth or care for plants. The Utopia, Menhit, treats the Chosen capable of only contributing to the infrastructure as little more than indentured servants while showing those few capable of combating their enemies as demigods. The scholarly Utopia of Candle Keep proposes that all Chosen are to be respected, but no higher than the average citizen. It is this reason that Candle Keeps hosts a training academy for the young elite and commoners with great potential.

Over the last hundred years, Candle Keep has reliably trained the future generations of Chosen into the heroes that push back at the world that would crush the remaining races in their strongholds. If properly nourished at the right ages, these future heroes could develop the power to change the world. Whether the change is for better or for worse

Those who wished to test their chances could do so as early as their 18th birthday. Only by taking chances can these young people propel themselves to the future they wish to clutch in their palms and hold tight to their hearts. Many carry the weight of duty and desire adventure, while others seek the power to crush weaklings. Ultimately, whatever spirit answers the ritual's call, the Chosen's fate is sealed, whether they get wishes are granted or not.

 

[Hamano]

The new day dawned to bird song and the deeply blue sky that could only be had after a good, hard rain. The Wick and Flame Inn, always busy this time of year with hopeful Chosen, was already bustling. Humans, elves, goblins and other ilk all milled about in a long line that led to the front double doors of the Inn. There a burly guard half orc stood implacable, arms folded over his impressively muscled chest, eyes on the horizon.

"Oh come on," said a young, dark skinned human woman at the front of the line. She thrust her hand in front of his face, holding her official papers with the blue crest of the Candle Keep Scholars on it. "It's dawn you fucker. Open up, can't you hear the damn birds?"

It took a long moment for his large head to turn down so he could meet her gaze - the sound of his teeth grinding was audible, and she backed off under his withering look. He huffed, rearranged his fists under his armpits, and continued to wait. "You know the rules. Noble blood has first dibs."

As if on cue, a carriage drawn by no less than six white horses in full parade regalia crested the rise and slowly trotted to a halt in front of the inn. The carriage rocked on its gilded wheels for a moment, the bustling of a large amount of people inside obvious through the windows, even shaded as they were.

The doors suddenly burst open, spilling out a gaggle felinids, all dressed in the season's latest finery. "We're here we're here! Serena's big day!" yelled the youngest who hit the ground running, tail flashing out behind her as she started to circle the carriage at a dead sprint.

Last came the runt of the littler, followed by her portly father. She was small, but only compared to her willowy sisters, around 5'7. Brown hair. Large green eyes. Cat ears. Pale skin. Cute and, well, a good word would be 'sturdy.' She looked much stronger than her sisters, and her white, ruffled blouse hinted at ample breasts, if you could find them under all that extra material.

Other carriages could be seen coming up the rise - belonging to other noble families, no doubt.

"Oh princess," the man said, fawning over her, petting her ears back and smoothing her shoulder length hair. "I wish we had more time. We'll all be watching at the ritual grounds tomorrow! I promise! You'll get an amazing bond and do us proud. I put in a good word, you'll see!"

Serena smiled up at him, putting on a brave face even as tears threatened to fall from her luminous, sea green eyes. "It'll be okay, father," she said, nuzzling into his hand, her voice ending in a rasping purr of affection as the coachman placed her trunk on the ground before her. Her official Scholar's Summoning papers were on top.

She bent, her tail making a strained S shape behind her as she lifted the trunk, turned in place, and walked to the Bouncer. He could barely see the top of her ears over the trunk, but he knew very well who it was. "Serena Pawlimore of Seafarer's Rest, sir! Checking in!" He nodded gruffly, then stood by and opened the door for her. She proceeded inside, and he closed it again behind her.

Murmurs broke out in the long line of people who had been waiting with their papers. Some appreciative. Some jealous. Words like 'Merchant's Guild' and 'rich bastards' and 'daddy's girl' floated by on the breeze.

As one, the Pawlimore family all crammed back into the over full carriage and made way for the other noble families to make their appearances.

 

[ImpWasteland]

Eyes as bright as the morning's blue sky flashed with excitement as Renart couldn't have been happier to get away from political intrigue and stifling traditions. Shoulder-length, jet-black hair danced wildly in the rushing wind as his grey horse sensed Renart's energy and started to push forward to ride side by side with the leading escort. Despite having ridden for days on end, the ache in his legs, hips, and back slowly evaporated the closer they came to this year's pre-ritual gathering point.

A fit, muscular body, well-honed from years of martial training, was hidden beneath his matching black trousers and knee-high riding boots while he wore a loose-fitting, brown wool tunic. Flapping behind him, a deep forest green cloak clung to his shoulders as the lower portion danced in the breeze. Having given up on keeping the hood up, Renart let his cloak's hood fall back, revealing a strong, square jawline and handsome facial features. His normally clean-shaven face had become neglected as his time traveling had prevented him from properly shaving. Stubble created the precursor to a beard, making him look more rough and ready to rumble than he was. Standing at 6'2", he was considered of average height for the men of his family but was a few inches taller than most.

The rest of the riders wore clothing of a very similar style to Renart's—a long-distance riding outfit of black bottoms, brown top, and green cloak. For the entire ride, their fineries had been stored away for the day of the Bonding Ceremony. The only thing that stood out was that only Renart's cloak didn't contain the crest of their family's lineage.

Turning his gaze upon those traveling with him, Renart couldn't suppress his smile at seeing his stone-faced father Richard, his wise but empathetic mother Katherine, and beautiful but equally sharp-tongued eldest sister Rosline. Smiling brightly, he was genuinely happy that they had decided to attend his ceremony. As for his eldest brother, Reginald, Renart couldn't have cared less whether he had come or not. Renart had hoped he wouldn't have to deal with the ambitious and lecherous family heir, but his good luck could only go so far. The two had never been close before, and after Renart was discovered to be capable of hosting a spirit, they grew further apart. Their escorts were a pair of knights serving alongside Richard. Sam and Monica were husband and wife, but also comrades-at-arms and long-time friends of Renart's family. The pair was more than happy to be extra protection as they passed close by the Forsaken Lands.

After the early morning shifted to mid-morning, Renart and his family, the Knights of House Stone Blood, and their escorts approached the outskirts of Candle Keep. Tall, pale walls rose defiantly into the sky as if daring anyone or anything to challenge the scholarly Utopia's right to exist. Contrasting the pale walls, dark brass and copper piping ran along the upper rim of the exterior wall. Acting as distance markers on the pipelines, the contained gemstones refracted light spectra, leaving first-time visitors dazzled by the rainbow of colors glowing in the sunlight. The eye-catching distance markers gave hints at the opulence to come. Unknown to the ordinary person was the true nature of what hid within these ancient gems.

The town of Willow Falls' main artery, which led travelers to the center of Candle Keep, also cut through the middle of the town. Jutting off the main path, small veins spread out from the main artery, leading to areas less likely to attract money from travelers. Workshops, schools, and housing for locals comprised the majority of the blocky buildings. Administration buildings, businesses, inns, and taverns flanked the main road. Generally used to catering to common folk most of the year, all the buildings along the main strip had put on their finest polish as nobility and commoners alike made their pilgrimage to the unlikely town. With the influx of the rich and people in general, the local leaders hoped to earn a bit of extra coin for hosting the gathering of the Chosen.

Renart watched from a distance as a family of Felinids at the front of the line disembarked in front of The Wick and Flame Inn. Their words were lost in the ambient noise of the town filled with people talking, carts and carriages rolling, and hooves clattering on cobblestone streets, before returning to their carriage and departing towards the center of Candle Keep. Wow... That girl is really cute..." Renart thought as he caught a brief glimpse of her face before she disappeared behind closed doors with her trunk.

Renart had been so engrossed in the sights and surroundings that he hadn't heard his mother calling out to him. Only when Rose thumped him on the back of his head with the heel of her palm did Renart come back from his wide-eyed gazing.

"HellooOOoo! Is Ren in there? Mom's talking to you." Said Rosline in a sing-song voice while raising her hand as if she were going to knock on his head like it was a door again.

"Hey! What was that fo-?! Oh." A sharp turn of his head in his sister's direction found his gaze traveling past her to a quirked eyebrow and smirking expression on his mother's face.

"Did you see a cute girl?" She teased while letting out a soft giggle, causing Renart's cheeks to blossom into a deep blush. Katherine smirked knowingly before she changed the subject of the conversation as she began asking him an endless series of questions to ensure he had everything he needed and if there were any last things she could assist him with. His father rolled his eyes as he rode up beside Renart and clapped the young man on the shoulder in silent solidarity. Earlier in the trip, Richard pointed out that she had already asked Renart the same questions before leaving Eryndal. That night, Richard slept outside the tent as well. As strong and as fierce a knight as Richard was, when it came to his wife, he had no chance.

When it was finally Renart's turn, only his mother became tearful at the thought of letting her boy go. His father asked Renart one last time if he would be willing to reconsider becoming a Chosen, but like all the time before, Renart stood by his decision. His older sister hugged him close before stepping away, her eyes brimming as she kept her emotions in check but only barely. Reginald flatly told Renart to not be a fuck up and embarrass the family's name again, which promptly drew their mother's ire. As she swatted her eldest child for ruining the sweet moment,

With their goodbyes said, Renart took a large backpack off the side saddle of his horse and double checked that his few possessions were still in the backpack and travel satchel. Slinging his satchel over one shoulder, while carrying his backpack by the straps, Renart stepped toward the displeased-looking half-orc bouncer. Looking the bouncer in the eyes, Renart said, "Hello, sir, I am Renart Stoneheart of Eryndal."

"Papers." Said the bouncer in an annoyed voice after glancing at Renart up and down, then quirking an eyebrow. The unimpressed appearing half-orc looked already done with the day, and it had only just begun.

"Right!" Eyes widened with realization, Renart spoke quickly before delving into the satchel and producing his letter signed by the scholars of Candle Keep. Fishing out the letter, Renart barely had time to hold them up with one hand by the time the half-orc snatched them away.

"Looks legit enough for me," said the bouncer after a long period of silence. Stepping to the door, opened it before shutting it promptly behind Renart before the young man could even say thanks.

Looking around the interior of The Whick and Flame Inn, Renart was immediately relaxed by the cozy atmosphere of the inn's interior. Large, thick rugs lay over hardwood floors while special cylinders contained precious-looking stones that emitted a soft hum as they buzzed with light. The soft glow of each wall lamp cast a relaxing shade throughout the building. Stretching longer than it was wide, the multi-story inn had multiple fireplaces with seating to gaze upon the flames. Multiple tables capable of seating from two to ten individuals were spread throughout the inn. Every seat was overstuffed, including the sofas and the settees. The majority of the first-floor walls were adorned with paintings of famous heroes and battles or sweeping landscapes. A large set of stairs is in the center of the room, leading towards where all the bedrooms were waiting for the travel-weary Chosen.

Depending on the individual's standards, certain nobility might think they were receiving pauper treatment. In contrast, lowborn commoners would think they were being treated like kings and queens in such a clean and well-maintained inn.

A pair of noblewomen in ornate sylvian dresses were speaking to the clerk working the main desk. Their innately sultry voices hinted at their heritage, while the pointed tips of their ears, poking out from their pale green, long hair, gave away their heritage.

A second man working the front desk stepped from behind a small office room to the side of the entry area. With plain facial features, except for a long mustache and a portly figure, the second man spoke quickly with a nasaly voice with Renart informing him that, "As with all those before you, you are advised to keep your letter on you at all times and that all personal bags and traveling trunks are to be left with the staff to be taken to the appropriate room. Someone will be with you with your key and room number."

Despite Renart's initial concerns, he acquiesced and handed over the backpack and satchel without a fuss. Placing his hand to his chest where his locket lay hidden under his traveling tunic, Renart let out a sigh as the man disappeared into the backroom with his few personal possessions. Quickly, the man returned and said, "Rest assured, all your belongings will be waiting for you in your assigned room. Please be aware that some individuals may need to share rooms if there are only two beds available. We are expecting a larger turnout than last year, and last year we were almost at capacity."

"I'll take what I can get, but the sooner I get to a place to bathe, the better," Renart said as he looked down at his travel-stained and dirtied outfit.

"I'm glad you said something before I did. I'm not sure where you're from, but even in the remote areas of Candle Keep, we have indoor plumbing and hot water on demand. Each bedroom has a bath that you'll want to use. Oh, and try not to sit on anything until after you've changed clothes." Replied the shorter, plain-faced man before leaving. The man's blunt comment caused him to blink several times. Usually quick with a retort, Renart was left speechless for a moment before laughing and walking deeper into the Inn. Glancing around, he wondered if he could find the girl with the tail he had spotted entering earlier.

 

[Hamano]

It wasn't hard to spot Serena. She was sitting on one of the many overstuffed chairs before an unlit fireplace deeper into the bowels of the sprawling inn, bereft of her trunk, her papers gripped in one hand like some kind of life raft. She looked around with big, wide open eyes as if seeing a whole new world...and in a lot of ways, she was.

She'd grown up sheltered, truly treated like a princess in the one castle found in Seafarer's Rest. Her father, the head of the Merchant's Guild, had brought in all the best doctors in the land when it had appeared she just wasn't going to make it as a young kit. With their help, not only did she survive - she thrived. Stronger and healthier than all her sisters in the long run, she was the jewel of Lord Pawlimore's eye, and pampered as such.

Though she was the runt of the litter and sickly at birth, she had been - surprisingly - the only one to show any talent for potential spirit bonding. And so the duty fell to her to uphold the honor and good standing of her Utopia as their token supplicant. That she was a fish out of water was an understatement - that naive gaze wasn't feigned, she truly had no clue what to do in a place like this. She was just staring in rapt fascination at so many new things!

Her maid Estelle, on the other hand, had other inclinations. She was taller than her Lady, but not by much. Elven, long black hair done up in two fun buns, one on either side of her head. She wore simple, home spun clothing as befit her station - a green dress and grey smock. Her face was soft, showing her to be not much older than Serena herself - likely as much of a friend as a lady in waiting. Her eyes however were a steely blue, perceptive and suspicious by nature.

As she bustled up she gave Serena a little curtsey, her eyes tracked around the room with obvious distaste. "Did you look before you sat, Ms.?" she asked Serena, to which she received a blinking, questioning look. In explanation, Estelle went on to look around the room at the travel stained occupants who had trickled in. "It might be dirty, m'Lady," she sniffed.

Serena laughed, and it was an easy, musically joyous sound, free of any care or worry. "Don't be silly, 'stell, they're just chairs." Though she did stand, gathering her sea-blue skirts about her, and quickly took a look as she swept her tail to one side. Estelle leaned in to look at the stain free cushion as well before her charge sat herself back down and laughed softly. "See? Nothing to worry about."

The maid sniffed again, but let the matter drop. "I'm afraid I have bad news, m'Lady," she said, her gaze sweeping suspiciously across Renart and the others who had made it this far into the Inn.

Serena's ears swiveled faster than her head as she looked up to hear. "What could possibly be bad? We just got here!" she asked, blinking.

"We've been assigned to a room with a..." Estelle looked around again, leaned in and lowered her voice even as the pitch rose. "With a man of all things! Can you believe it?"

The color drained from Serena's face as the words sank in. "Wait, what? Can they do that?" she asked in a hissed whisper.

Her maid nodded slowly, and whispered back. "A male by the name of Renart, they told me."

The maid straightened, and as one they began to look around the room searchingly, as if they'd be able to spot the offending man on sight.

 

[ImpWasteland]

Glancing over the area while tucking his letter into the breast pocket of an undershirt, Renart appreciated the effort that went into maintaining such an establishment. Everything was cleaned and polished to such a degree that Renart swore to himself that he could see a faint sparkling. Surveying all before him, it took a matter of seconds before he spotted the catgirl he was looking for. Before he started towards her, a young man dressed as one of the staff with his messy black hair and a slightly sweaty appearance took Renart's meager travel bag before walking at a pace just shy of a jog. Renart would have been apprehensive about letting his few personal affects go if not for where they were.

Taking a few steps in Serena's direction, Renart paused for only a moment, and a sense of self-consciousness washed over him. Taking in her clean attire and the maid standing at the ready, he suddenly realized with a sense of dread that this girl was likely high nobility. Stopping to glance down at himself, Renart sighed, and a whisper of doubt nagged at him. If it weren't for the quality of you're riding outfit, you'd look no better than a bandit parading as someone just shy of important. How many days has it been since you've done more than wash off in a river? You can't smell you, but she certainly will. I bet she'll tell you to fuck off if she doesn't let the maid speak for her and what will you say? She's probably going to be a bitch just like all the rest of those backstabbing bastards.

Bitterness washed through him as vague memories from his early childhood were dredged up. A sense of loathing ingrained over the years from stories of their family being on trial in a kangaroo court, with nearly all their high honors being stripped away.

His attempt at a charming smile faltered briefly as he swallowed down the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Taking a deep breath, he looked away to see if anyone else was in the room. Chances were, he feared, that he was going to make a fool of himself for talking to someone above his station.

Other than the people working the reception desk now flirting with the pair of Sylvian women, he could see a trio of other maids. They were seemingly strategically placed throughout the first floor, which he hadn't noticed before. Two humans and, surprisingly, a dark elf each wore a matching black and white knee-length dress with white gloves, white knee-high socks, and polished black shoes. Quietly standing at attention, they each looked ready and waiting to take care of the future occupants' every whim.

In the far back of the room was a wall lined with books looking to be tended to by a short goblin woman, which caused Renart to blink a few times. Shorter than the other women, Renart guessed the top of the jet black haired little greenskin's head would come up just past his navel. He raised an eyebrow as he could see that, unlike the other maids' outfits, hers was especially tight around her body and practically gave away every curve of her figure. Her black and white uniform also seemed a little too short as it barely went past her mid-thigh.

As if sensing his eyes on her, the goblin looked back over her shoulder before stepping onto a rolling ladder so she could reach the top shelf. Giving him a flirtatious wink, he could see that the goblin girl was also rather fetching. Without hesitation, Renart recognized what was going on and pulled his gaze away. That's a trap if I've ever seen one.

When she saw that Renart wasn't interested, the goblin's plump lips turned into a feigned cute little pout as she stepped over halfway up the ladder in her shortened dress and stretched an arm out to begin 'dusting' the top shelf with a feather duster, Renart could have sworn she hadn't been carrying before.

Clearing his throat, he continued to approach Serena and Estelle. His steps faltered for a brief second as he got within a dozen feet of Serena. Able to fully take in her features, Renart was briefly mesmerized by her emerald eyes, just before a sense of déjà vu began to nag at him. Flashes of his childhood and playing with a blurry-faced cat-girl roughly his age came unbidden before dissipating like smoke in a breeze. The disconcerting sensation, although fleeting, put him on guard, as he felt as though he knew this woman from somewhere.

The desire to get to know this young woman overcame any foreboding that had been welling up. Swallowing back the superstitious sense of caution and familiarity that washed over him, Renart stopped a polite distance away and gave a courteous bow as he introduced himself to Serena while ignoring Estelle, as he only had eyes for the beautiful cat-girl sitting a short distance away.

"It seems like we beat the majority of people lining up. From what I saw outside, there will be a large number of people undergoing the bonding ritual this year. Are you excited to find out what kind of spirit will be drawn to you?" Renart's practiced smile had melted away into a genuine one before a deep blush washed over his face as he realized he had forgotten to introduce himself.

"I'm... Uhh... Well... Since, I guess, we are going to be peers, you can call me Ren like most back home do." Inwardly, as he spoke, he was already berating himself for fumbling with his words and falling into default mode. He had a bad habit of treating most strangers with a sense of familiarity. He couldn't recall the number of times he had been chided for talking as though he had known random people for years. Yet, the deja vu feeling that nettled him refused to go away, and he could swear that he had met this girl before, but he couldn't place where.

Without realizing how he stood, he shifted into a parade rest like the knight he had been training to be before he was found to have a decent capacity for becoming one of the Chosen. Feeling like he had already fumbled his introduction, Ren stood with his back straight and his feet shoulder width apart while his fingers laced behind his back. With his riding outfit, the beginnings of a beard, and the traces of grime on his face and clothes, Ren looked moderately out of place in the fine establishment. Fortunately for him, he wouldn't be the last person who seemed like they didn't belong here.

 

[Hamano]

The Wick and Flame Inn's population had grown to about 25 people in just the short amount of time that had passed, and Serena wondered if the ritual grounds were actually large enough to hold everyone. Surely they wouldn't have sent out more summons than they had capacity to handle? But still...people just kept coming in, all gripping official papers.

You could easily tell the difference between the high and low born candidates from the smell. Coifed and pampered, the nobles moved as if they owned the place, surrounded by a fog of their own perfume. And then there was the rabble - everyone else. Whereas the nobles were as colorful as peacocks in jewel toned outfits, each trying to outdo the next, the rest of the folk were working class of one kind or another. Farmers. Fisherman. Peddlers and shopkeepers.

Soon the place was bustling with activity, with the clerks, servants and maids all doing their best to keep up with demands.

One thing that seemed noteworthy to Serena was the abundance of males. There were token women spread about, with all the races represented, but not as many as she would have thought... A female satyr caught her eye - she had never seen one before. Her lower half was indeed that of a faun, hooves and all, with a tail that was up and flashing white alarm as often as it was down.

She blinked and averted her eyes, a fierce blush rising to her cheeks as she realized, staring at the girl's shapely ass, that she was not wearing pants.

It was just dawning on Serena that she really really had to get out more - she was SO unprepared for any of this! - when Renart decided to make himself known. As the catgirl made to rise from the overstuffed chair, her lady in waiting stepped in front of her, halting her upward progress. The elven maid had a slightly uplifted chin, with hands tightly clasped before her middle as if to symbolize that she was indeed barring the way between the two of them.

Serena, presented with her maid's backside, leaned over the arm of the chair to get a better look at the man as he spoke. Mm, she liked his stubble beard and hair, even a bit greasy as it was. Her eyes travelled down and took in his attire, stained but obviously well made and in a cut that suited him perfectly. Rugged. She liked him immediately - one of those yummy men her mother had talked about, just like in her books!

The cat girl's tail flipped about excitedly she took him in, her little pink tongue escaping to wetten her lips. Her maid, however, did no such thing. Her summation of the man's character was negative immediately, if only because he'd dared approach her charge. And with such flippant disregard for station! How dare he! She sniffed and her nose went up another fraction of an inch as she regarded Ren with her steely, judgmental gaze.

"My Lady is not taking gentleman callers at this time," she said stiffly, her head tipping down now so he was pierced by her look and the determined set of her jaw. 'None Shall Pass' it said, communicating way better than any words could.

From behind her came the chirped response as the felinid leaned waaay over to speak to Renart from behind Estelle. "Hi Ren! I'm Serena! Yes! I've been studying spirits ever since I found out I was Chosen! I really hope I get an angel, or maybe a water spirit. Or both! Do they have both? What do you want? How old are you?"

Her maid closed her eyes, and a long suffering look passed across her face for the briefest instant before she stepped to the left to once again cover Serena from the man's view. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Ahem. Please carry on about your business."

Behind her, Serena's cat ears drooped to either side of her head, all but getting lost amid her long wavy brown hair. She sat back in the chair, practicallu getting lost amid the cushions. Her mouth set into a pouty, angry line and she crossed her arms below her large breasts as she looked away. Her fun ruined by her maid again.

 

[ImpWasteland]

Renart looked upon Estelle's steely gaze and proffered a broad smile as he heard Serena's voice respond to him. By all that is. She is beautiful. He thought as he looked at the peaking face from behind Estelle's back. He could tell by the exuberance of her questions that this girl was likely kept like a caged bird kept from soaring like she should be. Staring faced forward as if talking into the face of a drill instructor, Renart responded to her questions.

"The pleasure of meeting you is all mine, Serena. I know some of what to expect, but until we're there, who knows? I heard rumors that the spirits can be as fickle as they are generous. An angel would suit someone like yourself. As for both, it's entirely possible," said Renart with a respectful voice, albeit he couldn't hide his amusement. The way Serena's lady-in-waiting's gaze shifted to annoyance before stepping back in front of Serena and returning to a look that could have burned through him should she be able to project fire from them.

"All I wanted was to greet a peer after all titles become moot once we begin our studies and duties to protect our Utopias. I am around 19 summers old, likely around your age, mi'lady." He added in a humored tone. "I look forward to meeting you again when I look... Well, less like someone who has ridden nearly constantly over the last couple of weeks."

"I'll be taking my leave now since I have clearly been excused by someone who thinks they know better." He said after breaking his parade rest stance. He couldn't help but make a snarky comment before he bowed at the waist a respectful distance, and then he righted himself. He knew he wasn't making friends with Estelle any time soon, but she wasn't what caught his eye. She was an attractive woman whom many men would be thankful to spend time with.

I only have eyes for Serena. When he realized his thoughts, his cheeks blushed under the grime collected from his travels before turning sharply on his heels without waiting for a response. His feet took him to another section of the filled room to mingle with the various people around him. Renart wasn't surprised to see a few scowls from the noblemen who had spied on the interaction with Serena and the cold shoulder he had earned. He has spoiled their attempts to be the first to speak with her, forcing them to wait their turn. Seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere with the nobles, he eventually wandered over to the less well-off folk. Most were inclined to speak with him casually, in the way he was used to interacting with the townspeople, his family having been charged with looking after.

Renart noticed that it wasn't long after he had left before an unspoken line of young men of noble birth who moved to try and get past Serena's stalwart guard. Each man stood in their pomp outfit as they announced themselves by their noble title before attempting to address Serena directly if Estelle allowed it. Leading the pack was a tall, blonde man with pointed ears that protruded from his long, platinum hair. His silver and turquoise outfit was adorned with plenty of frills and embroidery, denoting the considerable wealth that went into making such clothes.

"I'd like to introduce myself to the most beautiful woman in the room." Said the elven noble, his voice slick with well-oiled snobbery. "I am the son of Duke Ellowen and heir to the dukedom within the Utopia, Candle Keep."

His emerald green eyes and angular face denoted his well-bred elven heritage as he looked down on Estelle as if she were a brigand keeping him from a coveted princess to rescue.

Speaking with a fishmonger and a cobbler's son about the recent harvest yields from the utopia, Golden Harvest, and how the most noble of houses always seemed to have the best picks, he was surprised by a soft tap on his shoulder from one of the staff. A young man half his age with brown eyes that matched his oiled hair and a smushed-looking nose that had likely been broken more than once.

"I have your key to your room, siiir," said the young man in an exaggerated, curt tone that was likely the cause of the shape of his nose. Without hesitation, Renart took the key from the youth and examined the number—room 37—a suit at the top of The Wick and Flame Inn.

"There's also-" Began the young man before Renart cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I already know that I'll be bunking with someone. It's fine. I need to take a bath before I stink up the place more than I already have." Joked Renart, causing the two he had been speaking with to bid him farewell while simultaneously pinching their noses, playing off his self-deprecating joke.

Key in hand, Renart walked at a leisurely pace to where he would be staying for the night, and if the bonding ritual took longer than expected, the next couple of nights. Walking up the stairs, a sense of relief washed over him. Renart had visited various courts, where he built connections as a youth, but he never felt truly at ease among the elite who lived with their heads held high. He felt thankful for the more down-to-earth mindsets of the common folk present.

Walking down the oak-walled hallway, his thoughts wandered as he counted the numbers on the doors to find his way. Serena. Her name interrupted his thoughts, along with her smiling face peaking around her maid-barrier. Without noticing, a grin spread along his lips, and his tired steps felt a little lighter. He almost walked past the right room because of his drifting thoughts. With a twist of a key followed by the soft click, Renart pushed open the door. Taking a deep breath and letting out a long sigh, he wasn't sure how happy he was about the room.

The shared room he entered was opulent, to say the least. Golden-framed pictures and a gilded table along one wall complemented the thick curtains that covered a large, floor-to-ceiling window. Next to the window was a door that led to a patio, offering a great view of the surrounding buildings and distant farmlands. Fully furnished, the room's focus centered on the plush red carpet, which matched the king-sized bed's crimson, silken sheets. It looked like the kind of room rented for a couple on a honeymoon.

A single door denoted the bathroom door, and Renalt resigned himself. He would have to share the room with another guy but damn it, he wouldn't let that thought keep him from sleeping tonight. Stripping after finding his belongings resting on the ground next to the bed, Renart set about the task he had been longing to do for a long time. Take a proper bath.

 

[Hamano]

Serena hissed at Estelle and bared her teeth, her cat's ears laying flat back in a feral show of irritation as the maid rounded on her. Her expression wasn't the slightest bit apologetic, and she showed her Lady the same steel she'd shown Renart. "I will keep you chaste and proper for as long as I can, m'Lady," she said, and then added in a softer tone. "I owe your mother that much."

The calm that came over the young woman was immediate, and her expression softened. That 'stelle had actually brought up her late mother meant that she was serious about her duty, even though the point may very well be moot after the ritual tomorrow. Serena lowered her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry, thank you," she replied softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Her heart still thumped in her chest, however, and she felt electrified by an excited thrill that had begun the moment Renart addressed her - even around the maid as it had been. She decided right then and there to learn all she could about the man, but she barely had time to collect herself before Estelle was back on duty, fending off yet another man. None came close to intriguing her as much as he had, however.

The maid relaxed her stance, if only a little, to the approximate degree that the gentleman callers dripped with nobility. The richer they appeared to be, the more she allowed them to view her Lady. She even stepped to one side to allow the high born elven noble his chance, but Serena showed little interest. Her heart and mind were elsewhere, and she merely exchanged the same pleasantries with the man as she had with all the others.

After he took his leave she finally tugged on the maid's sleeve and gave a tired sigh. "The room should be ready by now, shouldn't it? I'm tired of this." Estelle turned and nodded to Serena, helping her stand and straightening her skirts. Just then a man in the Inn's black and white uniform stepped up and gave them both a curt bow, then held out a key. "The best suite in the house is ready for you," he said brusquely. "Room 37 on the top floor."

The maid took the key and nodded to Serena. The man looked like he was about to say something else, but then thought better of it and scurried away, mumbling something about people having a tendency to shoot the messenger. Estelle gave him an odd look, then turned back to her Lady. "Let's get you settled in. Big day tomorrow."

Serena's gaze was all over the room, seeking out another glimpse of Renart, but he was nowhere to be seen... The bottomless satyr, however, was up on a table, dancing with a sloshing mug of ale in one hand and dangling a key over the heads of several interested men with the other. "Who wants to bunk with me?" she said in a singsong. "Just remember... I'm on Top."

Estelle turned to look as her Lady giggled and gasped, scandalized. "Well I never!" She put a hand over Serena's gawking face, trying to shield her eyes as she bustled her along toward the stairs. Both were blushing crimson by the time they made it to the third floor.

"I didn't know... Did you see? How... What did she mean...?" Serena stumbled over her words, trying to understand what she'd been seeing.

"Some questions are best left unasked, and better unanswered," Estelle responded, leading Serena by the elbow down the hall to the correct room. She inserted the key and turned it in the lock and the door opened upon a lavishly appointed room with plush red carpet and a giant king sized bed.

Serena's trunk had already been delivered, as had another person's bags.

"Wow," the Lady said, walking in and looking around. "I need new words to describe...this..." she said with a soft laugh.

"Gaudy," Estelle replied, walking to the bed and clucking her tongue as Serena went to check out the view. "Only one bed..." she said with a note of disapproval. "At least it's a big one."

She heaved a sigh and smiled as her Lady returned from the patio. "This is where I leave you, m'Lady," she said, taking both of Serena's hands in hers. "I'll be down in the servants quarters," she sniffed, getting a bit misty.

Serena dropped her maid's hands and moved in for a hug. "I love you, 'stelle," she said softly as she gently squeezed. "It's going to be okay, you'll see."

Estelle nodded, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief that had materialized out of somewhere. "I know," she said, pulling back and squeezing one of Serena's hands. "You're going to do just great, I know it."

With that she turned and walked to the door, put the key on the little side table beside it, and departed.

Serena watched her go, green eyes brimming for a moment before she wiped the tears away and took in a deep breath to face the huge bed in the middle of the room. She paused for a moment, ears flicking to listen, tail up and motionless. And then all at once she squeeeed! with delight and jumped up onto the bed.

And that's where she was, jumping gleefully up and down in the middle of the king sized bed like a madwoman, when Renart returned to the room from the side bathroom.

"Just remember!" she said, giggling to herself as she jumped in a full circle, all the way around to face the bathroom door as she tried to mimic the satyr she'd just seen. "I'm on...Top!"

 

[ImpWasteland]

Renart heard the main door to their shared bedroom being opened, followed by the sound of muffled feminine voices. Assuming that these were staff dropping off his new roommate's belongings, he hesitated by the sink after having finished showering. Wrapping a towel around his nude waist, water beaded down his layer of body hair. His muscles flexed as if longing to exercise as he paused to look at himself in the mirror.

With the travel grime gone, his tanned and honed figure was on full display. Having spent most of his life training with weapons and how to fight while wearing armor, the shapes of his muscles along his chest, arms, and abdomen showed few signs of fat. He put effort into a future he had proudly dreamt of, but that path had drastically changed. Feeling briefly forlorn, Renart sighed as the decisions that led him here left him with the feeling that he had no control over his fate. Being almost the youngest in a long list of siblings, the only thing expected of him was to follow his orders, his family's traditions, and not to disgrace the family name any more than it already was.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped in front of the porcelain white sink and wiped a moist hand through the blurry image of himself in the silver-trimmed mirror. He ran his fingers over the faint lines of a few scars on his chest and forearms earned from training with live blades when his thoughts began to drift once again, turning towards Serena. His face softened as he mulled over why the felinid took up so much of his mind.

He imagined her enchanting eyes shining as she took in his nude figure and the feeling of her fingers running through his chest hair towards his groin. He imagined her nipping her lower lip as she eyed him with desire. His cheeks flushed while a small grin spread over his lips as he imagined what Serena's nude body pressing against him would feel like. Renart suddenly clamped down on his imagination as he felt the towel around his waist begin to tent.

"She's out of your league, Ren. Don't even try. Keep your head on straight and don't draw any more attention to yourself than needed." He said, muttering to himself while looking into the mirror. "Buuuuuut.."

Instead of pursuing the urge to jerk off to mental images of Serena, Renart decided it was time to head out before doing something he had been taught to avoid doing. Stepping towards the bathroom door, the rhythmic sounds of the frame squeaking brought a grin to his lips. Ren shook his head and chuckled as he imagined being paired up with some peasant's son, indulging his inner childish whimsy from bouncing on a bed. Pausing, he wondered when the last time he had done such a thing.

He stepped to the bathroom door, ready to relax and throw himself on his side of the bed, bouncing rommie or not. After adjusting the towel wrapped around his waist, he grabbed a second nearby towel dangling among a collection of its brethren. After pulling the door open, he used a second towel to start roughly tousling his hair as he walked out towards the bed.

"Hey man, I'm Renart, and we gotta share that bed so pick a...-" as Renart spoke, he continued to dry his hair roughly. When he looked up to see his roommate, he froze, unable to finish his sentence. Eyes wide and stunned.

Just remember, I'm on top, flashed through his mind as his panicked mind suddenly filled with unbidden thoughts of Serena riding him. A chill ran down his spine while he flushed from head to toe with his heart suddenly racing. I'm on top... Her voice, melodically echoing in his mind, caused a particular part of him to swell to an impressive half-hard state involuntarily. In that second of hesitation, the towel around his waist loosened and fell to the ground around his ankles.

 

[Hamano]

It felt good to let loose and finally just be herself for a minute after the long, long trip from Seafarer's Rest. Her many sisters had always looked down on her and envied her the loving attention of their father at the same time. To say being cooped up with them for two days was uncomfortable was an understatement.

And as much as she knew Estelle truly cared for her, Serena couldn't help but feel stifled by the enforced 'proper' behavior 24/7. Her maid and friend had actually shared her room back home, so she was there when she went to sleep, and there when she woke up. This sudden and total freedom was almost blissful and the feline woman reveled in it with abandon.

That anyone else could already be IN the room never occurred to her, and she was so enthralled with her joyful jumping on the bed that she didn't even notice when Renart made his appearance. It was his voice that reached her - she knew that voice. Was she so happy she was imagining him? A smile crossed her lips at the idea, a bit of fang showing as a thrumming purr joined the sound of the squeaking bed frame.

Wait. What? She stopped mid-jump, eyes going wide, ears laying back and hands flying to her mouth to hide her shock by force of habit. She hadn't imagined it! There he was, standing right in front of her, like a wish come true.

And then she just stared...or, more like gawked at the most manly man she'd ever seen standing wet and naked before her. In fact it was the first naked man she'd ever seen, period. Shock turned to curiosity as her gaze roved over his body, coming to a halt at his manhood. Her pupils dilated and her ears perked up with interest, tail flipping about excitedly, the only thing that was moving in the room.

Her large green eyes went wider and her hands dropped to reveal her open mouth, fangs still out. "So big..." she whispered, wetting her lips with her small pink tongue - and then caught herself and squeaked! She suddenly became of what she was doing! Of how this must look! Estelle was right, how could she have been so foolish? But he was so...yummy. Exquisitely yummy.

A tension she'd never felt before suddenly coiled between her legs, and she inhaled sharply in response, shocked on top of shocked. What was this? Flushing crimson, she raised her hands up over her head and ducked down all at once to crouch in the middle of the bed, making herself very small.

Silence reigned, heavy with a weight of many different feelings. Embarrassment. Confusion. Curiosity. A new and as yet unexplored hunger. Somewhere, a bird chirped then sang its cheerful song, calling a mate to its side.

 

[ImpWasteland]

The hair on the back of Renart's neck stood on end as he watched Serena's shock at seeing him. Swallowing, she felt a ripple of goose bumps when her pupils grew wide like a predator and her tail danced behind her. That strong sense of déjà vu washed through him again, nearly throwing his mind into further disorder as he instinctively bent his knees in preparation to dodge to the side.

He hadn't even noticed his towel hitting the ground, as he was fixated on the beautiful girl. He almost missed the flow of emotions that crossed her face. Wow she looks cuter and cuter by the second. He thought as adrenaline shot through his veins, making the world feel like it slowed around him.

While his brothers and father had encouraged him to dally with some of the local girls his age, his mother and sisters had offered to set him up with their friends, but all those prospects seemed to lack something. None of the elves, the humans, or the other races caught his fancy. None were ugly or unpleasant; they didn't spark his desire.

Watching Serena's cheeks flush with an alluring shade of pink, he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as his heart started to thunder against the inside of his chest. The rush of blood through his body grew deafening until Serena's lips moved and her voice flowed to his ears.

Did...Did she just compliment my dick? Of all the things she could have said, he was not prepared for what had left her lips.

His mind was left completely and utterly flabbergasted by her words. Temporarily dumb struck, Renart cast his sapphire blue eye downwards as he followed her gaze. A sense of utter dread washed over him as he realized he had just flashed a potentially very important person his nude figure.

Experiencing a newly found sense of shame and embarrassment. Renart's eyes tracked from his shame on full display back to the girl he had hoped he had made a positive impression with.

His eyes didn't have to travel very far as he could see her squatting directly in front of him. At first, he thought to say something, but what would he say? His mouth opened in an attempt that would almost assuredly leave him feeling like he would have been better off choking on his own food. Instead, the silence in the room prolonged as he choked on his words.

As Serena squatted down on the bed, he was treated to a clear view of the thin, silken white panties pressing against the contours of her vulva. His mouth went immediately dry as he remained transfixed by how the white fabric was pressing so snugly to her delicate lower lips that he could make out their shapes. Like delicate flower petals, Renart felt the strong urge to reach out and gently trace their shapes against the fabric.

After barely a second, Renart noticed a faint dot form at the crotch of Serena's panties. A faint dot that quickly grew. Licking his lips, Renart took a small breath as he felt a faint fragrant smell that caused his cock to fully harden. Unable or unwilling to look away, Renart wouldn't know as he was lost on the sight of what he realized was wetness spreading along the thin white fabric. His deep blue eyes remained frozen on the way the sheer material became almost completely see-through.

"So... wet..." The soft but clearly spoken words surprised Renart as he heard the sound of lustful cravings filling his voice come unbidden. Panic, shame, dread, and a newly formed sense of desire crashed through him as the world seemed to speed up again. Renart finally moved from direct line of sight as his hands yanked the towel from his head and shoved it over his engorged cock as it pointed towards Serena as if demanding that he go over to her and make her his.

Stepping back into the bathroom, Renart nearly slipped on the tile floor as humid air flowed outwards. With a loud thump, Renart pressed his back against the bathroom wall. He could feel himself trembling as a new sense of anxiety gripped his heart. He had helped break up bar fights, he had helped fight back against problematic beasts, and so much more, and yet he was woefully unprepared to be in this situation.

"Ummm... Serena..." Renart called out in a soft voice as he fought to maintain the calmness that hiding had granted him. "I have a request and a question. If we could pretend like this never happened, I-I'd be in your debt. And! W-why are you in my room?"

 

[Hamano]

Juices flooded between Serena's thighs, soaking her panties in record time. The tableau lasted only seconds but it felt like minutes as she pulled her gaze from Renart's swiftly hardening cock and looked down. She realized in her hurry she had dropped to her knees on the bed with her skirt hiked up around her waist! What must he be seeing!?

She looked up, face going from pale with high blush at the cheekbones to straight up red, and found herself staring at his cock as it rose to attention and pointed at her, eagerly straining to close the distance between them. It bobbed in time with his heart which must be pounding just like hers. She didn't know how she felt about that, aside from surprised. But why did he look like he wanted to run? And why did she feel the urge to chase?

Lust. Was this lust she was feeling? Lust for the hunt? Lust for...the man? She wanted nothing more than to be closer to him, to pounce and claim her prey... But she was frozen to the spot, pinned by confusion and shame.

As he covered his manhood with the towel from his head and disappeared she got another nice view of his ass in retreat. She blinked several times, caught between a soft moan and a laugh. All of these feelings, they were too new, too strange, too sudden. Both lust and shame, so strong and immediate and hungry - were trying to occupy the same place. Desire warred with embarrassment - though he was the one with the bare ass at the moment!

At that thought a nervous yet friendly little giggle escaped her lips as the tumult in her mind spilled over into the room just before he spoke and gave his request. There was no mistake, this was the Renart who had spoken to her earlier. The one she'd been so eager to meet.

She cut off the giggle mid-burst as she snapped her legs together and pulled the skirt down, trying to cover her modesty. The smell though...if she could smell the scent of her heat, he must have too. She closed her eyes and put her hands back over her head, covering her flattened cat ears and just feeling miserable. "Okay," came the muffled response.

But... Her mind twirled and her mouth watered. The sharp points of her extending fangs touched her lower lip and drew blood. Her had heart thrilled at the sound of her name on his lips. Was it okay with her? Did she want to pretend this hadn't happened? She could just get up, push open the bathroom door and drop to her kne--

Eek! Another squeak of mortal shame issued from her, more pulled than anything. Why was she even thinking such things? What if her mom knew where her thoughts were going? Or Estelle?

"Your room?" she asked as the second half of his words made it through the storm raging in her mind and body. "This is my room. Room 37..." she said, opening her eyes to look at her trunk that had been delivered earlier, along with the other occupant's luggage. Oh.

"Renart? I think..." she said, swallowing hard and looking up. "I think this is our room."