Beestie's Bedtime Story

Per request, I’m pulling my story out of The Art of Writing thread and continuing it in this thread.

It started as me showing @MageHeart how The Story Engine writing prompt deck worked. I will continue using it and its expansions, but I will not continue posting pics of the cards I draw. I don’t want TOB to get fussed at over copyright stuff.

This will be an ongoing story–probably slice of life. I will be seat of the pants writing as I go along instead of my usual blocking everything out as an outline to be fleshed in after.

Also, this will be a very rough draft. I doubt I will go back over it and polish it. This is, after all, a freebie and not a story that will be generating income for me.

If this bores you, blame @crabby358 . He egged me on.

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BEGIN QUOTE

So . . . my Story Engine Deck. I’m going to run through a quick demo of what the Story Engine does.

Start with an Agent Card. That is the character you are going to be writing about. They are the characters who make choices in the story.

There are four options on each card, one along each edge. I’m going with the one on the bottom that face me correctly. My character is a merchant. I shall name him Nicholas.

Next up is the Engine Card.

The Engine Card has the motivations and relationships that drive the story. The card has two. Again, I’m taking the one that is aligned with me.

So now we have a merchant named Nicholas who wants to unmask a conspiracy.

Next card drawn is the Anchor Card. Anchors are objects, locations, or events of importance.

Again, four options are available. I’m going again with the one aligned with me. An auction item. tentatively I’m going with a goblin lass (naked, since she’s on the block) with obvious signs of physical abuse. Poor little gobbo’s taken quite the beating. Her handler has a bandage on one hand. Perhaps she bit him?

So we’re already getting ideas flitting through our neurons, scraping together the bare bones of a story.

Next up, the Conflict Card. Conflicts are obstacles, consequences, or dilemmas.

Two choices. Going with the one aligned with me. A place they would not want to go? Perhaps her tribe? They were the nasty bastiges that sold her off to the slavers to begin with, no?

Final card drawn for a basic quick setup is the Aspect Card. Aspects are adjectives that describe other cards.

Once more we have four choices and I’m going with the aligned with me one.

Gilded. Hmm. From Dictionary-dot-com:

Gilded: adjective

  1. covered or highlighted with gold or something of a golden color.
  2. having a pleasing or showy appearance that conceals something of little worth.

From the Cambridge Dictionary, it can also mean rich, or of a high social class.

Merriam-Webster says it can also mean having a background of wealth and luxury: prosperous, luxurious.

I don’t have an object here, so we can rule out the gold option. So does it go with our new MC, the gobbo, or the place they don’t wish to go?

Let’s go with our MC Nicholas. He is gilded in the sense of having a background of wealth and luxury. He’s not a mere merchant. He’s a merchant prince from the mighty Van t’Hof family, known and feared far and wide for their shrewd dealings and merciless retribution against those who cross the family.

Now we have the bare bones of a story to start with, all from 5 simple cards.

From those tidbits, I came up with this little blurb to start a story:

-=-=-=-

Nicholas stepped away from the street vendor with his purchase gripped in hand. A treasure! Street corn! He hadn’t had any good street corn in— Well, in a long time. He took an appreciative bite. Yes! Salty butter, the char from the fire, and the sprinkling of just enough fire pepper flakes to wake one’s taste buds without sending one dashing for a pilsner! He dabbed his napkin at a stray rivulet of butter that he felt trailing down the beard of his chin, mentally chiding himself after for not using a fingertip to bring it to his lips. Every gob of butter should have been appreciated and not wasted. His moeder would have slapped the back of his head had she seen him be so wasteful.

“This one’s a fiery little brat!” called a voice off to his right. Turning to look, he spotted the portion of the Faire he loathed the most—the slaver’s block. Right as his eyes found the source of the declaration he’d overheard, he spotted the handler backhanding a female goblin’s mouth as she stood on the block. “Bit me, right as rain this morning,” the greasy-looking man declared, holding up a bandaged hand. “What’s my opening bid? Ten silver foxes? Can I get ten for this stubby gobbo? I promise she’ll be a fine servant once you beat the feral out of her!”

Nicholas looked over the woebegone female. Short, perhaps a little over three feet tall. Her skin was the color of the spring grasses—where it wasn’t yellowed with old bruises or dirt. Her hair was jet black as were her eyes. Her lips were full, albeit split in a couple of places from her beatings. Her hips were round, as were her calves and thighs. Her chest? There she fell short. She did not have much in the way of teats at this point. Nicholas knew that gobbos did not get busty until they’d spawned their first get. So this poor gobbo was a virgin.

He winced as the slaver kicked the gobbo in her ample arse. “Stand up straighter, girl, or it’s the lash you’ll get!”

“I’ll give you five copper mice,” Nicholas called out, surprising himself. He pulled his dagger out of its sheath and picked at some corn stuck in his teeth.

“What?” snarled the slaver, offended at the pittance Nicholas had offered, yet eyeing the fine dagger warily.

“I said I’m bidding five copper mice, and not a mouse more. You’ve beaten the product too much and damaged her.”

The slaver sneered at Nicholas, turning to the rest of the gathered crowd. “Surely someone else here can recognize quality product when you see it? Four foxes?” No one responded. “Three?” The slaver looked from face to face in the crowd, not finding any interest in his stock. “Fine!” he snarled, turning back to Nicholas. “Sold to the dandy for five mice!”

Nicholas and the slaver went over to the cashier’s booth set to one side. He paid the slaver his five mice and paid the cashier the bronze slug that was the tax on his purchase. Gathering up the bill of sale and tax receipt, he reached down and undid the collar on the gobbo, dropping it on the ground at the slaver’s feet. “Follow me unless you want him to sell you all over again,” he said, turning and walking into the crowd.

He paused at another street vendor to buy two more street corns, handing one to the gobbo. “You stayed with me,” he said. She nodded. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Fizzy,” she said, her eyes cast down at the ground. “Why?”

“Why what? Why did I ask your name, or why did I buy you?”

“That. Why did you buy me?”

“Good question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“So you don’t want to bed me?”

He stood there, looking at the poor thing for a few heartbeats before responding. “No, girl. I don’t intend to bed you.”

“Why don’t you want to bed me? Am I not pleasing enough? Do you not care to sully your loins with a goblin?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I said I didn’t intend to. Want is another matter. You are a tasty-looking pudding.” He leaned back against the tree they had paused beneath. “Where are you from?”

Fizzy paused, her mouth full of corn. “Bresher clan, o’er’n East Dale.”

“Shite,” muttered Nicholas. “That was where I am heading next on my trade route. I suppose you don’t want to go anywhere near your clan, do you?”

She shook her head, her mouth full of corn again, her big black eyes locked onto Nicholas’ own green ones.

END QUOTE

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Before I continue, I have a request. As of late, I’ve been writing spicy stuff professionally. IF I start down that meandering trail, someone chunk a bucket of ice water on me and remind me which side of the forum I’m in. :grimacing: :bear:

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For the next section I will be drawing on the Deck of Worlds. Step A, pull a Region card. No choices. Just one option. Grassland. So the region that Nicholas went to Faire in is a grassland.

Step B is draw a Landmark card. Two options on that. Facing me is Village. So the Faire is in a village in a grassland.

Step C is draw a Namesake card. 4 options. The one facing me is Hissing. Not quite sure where that will fit in yet. This is the first time I’ve used this deck, so we’ll keep pushing on with the instructions to see if it clears up.

Ah, okay – that gets tucked under either the Region or Landmark card as a descriptive. My choice. Hmm. Hissing Village? Hissing Grasslands? Let’s go with the second option and call it the Hissing Grasslands, named so because the wind whispering through the grass sounds like a reptile’s hiss. Perhaps there are snakes or lizards that are prominent denizens of the region? A reptilian race? Leaning towards lamia in my mind.

Step D is draw an Origin card that will be tucked under Region or Landmark. This is to provide a backstory for one or the other. 4 options. The one facing me was Site of a Huge Misunderstanding. Hmm, that would lend well with the grasslands being habitated with lamia. But was the conflict in the village, or just the grasslands themselves? Will have to think on how to incorporate this.

You know what, let’s go with the village. After the conflict was resolved, the village grew up on the site of the huge battle as both sides nursed their wounded back to health, each assisting the other.

Step E, draw an Attribute card. 4 options. I got Seasonal Flooding. Again, it can go under either the Region or the Landmark. A village in grasslands couldn’t flood out without the grasslands themselves flooding, so I’ll put it under the Region.

Final step, F is for an Advent card. Two options. I drew "Stars are disappearing from the night sky: due to pollution, an optical illusion, or something supernatural.*

Wowza. Need to think on that one. Let’s take what we have before that, though, and start writing.

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Nicholas gave a friendly wave at the lamia guard standing watch at the entrance to the village as he led Fizzy out to where he’d set up his caravan. He did not bother showing the bill of sale for Fizzy. The lamia in this village didn’t collect additional taxes on product leaving–only upon entrance. He’d paid that the night before. His caravan was a short walk to the side of the trade route where he’d made camp by the river.

Ah, the river! The river that flooded every spring, bringing more of the rich silt onto the grasslands that made the land such a bountiful land of plenty for the farmers. The damnable river that flooded every spring, trapping him on one side or the other depending on where his traveling trader’s caravan had taken him o’er the winter. The bountiful river that provided him and his retinue those delicious bluefins that were so tasty roasted over an open fire! It was a pity that their flesh did not take to salting and became foul-tasting in a manner of days.

He’d stopped at this village in the Hissing Grasslands because it was the one with the most diverse mix of races. Here he could buy goods from a myriad of peoples to take to other lands where the goods would be considered exotic and in high demand. Of course, that presumed that some local despot hadn’t taken over in the yonder lands and taxed his peoples into poverty. That was always a possibility. Despite the Merchant Princes’ laws protecting the populace, warlords popped up from time to time gleefully lining their own larders at the expense of their downtrodden population.

He paused in his walk and thoughts as he heard a gasp from behind. “Eh?” her asked, turning to look at his new goblin girl.

She waved a hand at the assembled caravan wagons, guards, and livestock. “This is all yours?” she asked, awe evident in her tone.

He cast a gaze over his assembled caravan, the wagons all painted in bright colors, gold gilding prominent in their decoration. They had been drawn up in a defensive circle with the piles of goods in the center, covered in tarps to keep out both prying eyes and the afternoon’s inevitable rain showers. Lamia guards mingled with the equios horse girls, all armed to the teeth against the aquios fish-people raiders that liked to swarm out of the river in the silence of a distracted moment. The bovios teamsters gave the two of them a brief glance before returning to tending to their oxen teams.

“Ja, is mine. All of it.” He looked back to Fizzy. “You do not recognize me?”

She shook her head. “Other than the slavers, you are the first human I’ve ever been close to.” Her face went slack as a thought crossed her mind. “I’d like as not have never seen them, either, if I had accepted the mating with that oaf–” She stopped and spit on the ground. "May things rot and fall off of him.

Nicholas knew better than to inquire about that. “You are free now,” he said. “I am one of the merchant princes and I proclaim you free.”

“Eh?” she squeaked, whirling to face him.

He handed her her bill of sale and an emancipation license. “I free you. You are no longer a slave. You are a free-woman.” He watched as tears formed in her eyes, but not of joy. Terror. She was terrified. “What is wrong?”

“You are kicking me out?”

“What? No. You are free to come and go as you see fit. But if you stay, a task will be assigned to you. There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”

“So you do intend to bed me.”

He put his fists on his hips and glared down at the goblin girl. “Now how in the names of all the guardians of hell did you come to that conclusion?”

“You said a task would be assigned to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, one in accordance with your skills. Can you cook?” She shook her head. “Sew?” Again, she shook her head. “Are you good with animals?” Once more, a head shake. “Well, bugger.”

“See? You will sex me.”

“What? No! That was an exclamation!” He sighed, closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Glasha!” he bellowed, eyes still closed. A huge ork woman came stomping over, her breast band barely restraining her massive bust, her loincloth strung between her legs and belted to her wide hips, hanging down to her knees.

Fuck’s your problem now?” she bellowed back at him, her voice a guttural growl. She glared at him, her lower tusks jutting up out of her mouth.

“Language,” Nicholas admonished her.

“Go fuck yourself,” she retorted, her hands on her hips, the muscles on her arms bulging.

Nicholas shot her a disgusted look. “We have a new member of the caravan. I freed her from some slimy slavers.”

“Are they still breathing?” asked the ork.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Pity,” Glasha grunted. She looked down at the goblin. “What were you in your tribe?” she asked.

“Princess,” replied the girl.

Fuck me,” grunted Glasha. “No, that was not an order,” she said as Fizzy began blushing. “It means you are next to useless here.” She glared at Nicholas. “And I expect you’re wanting me to make her useful.”

“Ja,” he said.

Fuck me,” snarled the ork, grabbing Fizzy by one hand and dragging her deeper into camp.

“Language!” called Nicholas. Glasha replied with a single finger on one hand as she kept walking.

-=-=-=-

So I did not use all the info from the cards at this time, but the information is there for us if its use becomes necessary.

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I still have adequate material to continue writing from here, but part of this entire exercise is to use the writing prompt decks I purchased. I’m going to pull a card from one of the add-on decks. This one is called Shared Hearths and Common Creeds. It is an add-on for the Deck of Worlds. All the cards are the same type. Each one has four options on it and is meant to be tucked under either a Region or Landmark card. The cards are referred to as Keyholes.

Pulled a card and was asked, How do they celebrate their most renowned citizens? Hmm, not sure that is a relevant tidbit at this time. Might have to pigeonhole that for another section of the tale.

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Fizzy was a half-step behind Glasha as the ork woman dragged her along. She watched in awe as the muscles on the tall woman’s back, shoulders, buttocks, and legs rippled with the simple effort of walking through the caravan encampment. Well, perhaps not walk, Fizzy corrected, mentally. Stomp was the proper word.

“Are you and Nicholas coupled?” she asked, blushing the moment the audacious question was out of her mouth.

“We have had coitus, if that is what you are asking, yes,” Glasha replied, no irritation apparent in her reply.

Feeling brave, she pushed. “Are you his only woman?” Her face smacked into the muscular buttocks of the ork woman as she stopped, doubling over with laughter.

Only woman?” she roared, slapping her thighs. “That’s rich!” She paused and wiped a tear from one eye, straightening up. “Look around you, Princess. How many men do you see?”

Fizzy glanced around the people working in the encampment. Lamia guards–all female. Equios workers–all female. Bovios teamsters–all female. There were even felios servant girls, flattering to and fro, bringing meals to the resting employees–all female again. And there! On top of a nearby tree were three harpies–all three female. “Oh.” She pondered for a heartbeat. “Has be bedded them all?” She looked up at he ork woman’s face. “Forcibly?”

Glasha planted her fists on her hips. “You’ve seen him. Does he look like the type of man who needs to force a woman into his bed?” Her visage softened. “He is a careful and attentive lover,” she said, her gaze unfocused as she peered off into the distance. With a flash, her eyes returned to the goblin’s. “You could do much worse among your clan, I’ll wager.” She waved a hand at Fizzy’s attire. “Did you enjoy your tenure in slavery?”

Fizzy shook her head, her eyes dropping down to stare at the bare feet of the ork woman. “No.” She pondered for a moment. “So you are saying I should let him bed me in gratitude? Is that how he got all of these women?”

Glasha glared at her. “You are fucking daft,” she snarled, spittle flying from her tusks in her disgust. “That would be the same as rape–forcing a woman into his bed because she felt obligated.” She turned and started stomping back towards the center of the caravan. “You’ll figure it out,” she said over her shoulder. “Or, you won’t. Makes no never mind to me.” She put her right hand to her mouth with her index finger and thumb inside her lips. She gave a piercing whistle. The harpy women jumped into the air and flew down to land before her. “Sun’s setting. Do a circuit and check for interlopers before settling in for the dark.” With a nod of their heads, the harpies took to the air again with powerful backstrokes of their wings.

Glasha looked about before bellowing, “Fay!” A felios woman came scampering up to her. “Feed the goblin,” she said, waving in Fizzy’s direction. “Tend to her bruises. And for the love of the goddess, find her some clothing.”

“Yes, mu’m,” said the cat-like woman. She came over to Fizzy, smiling at her. “Carn, herb, or om?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” replied Fizzy.

Fay rolled her eyes and gave a sigh. “Your diet. Are you a carnivore, herbivore, or omnivore?”

Fizzy blinked, thinking. “I’m not sure what those words mean, but for my site, I eat anything. Fish, animals, roots, bugs–”

“Omni,” said Fay, cutting her off. She grabbed one of Fizzy’s hands and carefully drew her over to a seat by one of the small fire pits. Putting a wooden bowl in her hands, she ladled a brown liquid full of assorted chunks into it. “Stew. Mix of meats and plants. You’ll like.” Reaching into the smock she was wearing, she drew out a wooden spork from a pocket. “Eat. Stay. Be right back.”

As Fizzy began to shovel the stew into her mouth, the felios scarpered off. “Oh!” exclaimed the goblin as the taste of the first mouthful registered on her tastebuds. It was a blend of savory flavors that was quite pleasing to her palate.

“Here,” said an equios woman sitting hear her, handing her a chunk of buttered dark bread. “That makes it go further.”

“Oh!” chirped Fizzy. “I don’t mean to take food out of your mouth!”

The equios woman laughed. “You’re not. I overstuffed on some of the tender shoots of grass growing alongside the river earlier.” She winked at Fizzy. “The bennies of being an herb.”

Fizzy took the proffered bread, nodding her thanks. She looked the equios woman over. Mostly human, but her legs from the knees down were covered in chestnut hair, bent different from her own, and ended in shiny black hooves. “Fizzy,” she said, tapping her chest.

“Chez,” replied the equios with a nod. She looked Fizzy up and down. “Looks like you had a rum go of it. Some of those bruises are old.”

“I was a slave until a few minutes ago,” she murmured.

“Nicholas, aye?” Chez asked. Fizzy nodded. “Aye. He has a big heart.” She patted Fizzy on the back, her touch gentle. “You’re safe now. No one is brave enough to try to tangle with a Van t’Hof caravan.”

Fizzy nodded, chewing on a mouthful of bread and stew. Chez gave a neighing laugh.

“That name meant nothing to you, did it?” she asked as Fay returned with a brown stoppered bottle and some rags.

“No, should it?” she asked as Fay took out the stopper, poured some of the liquid contents onto the rag, and began to dab at the worst of her bruises. Fizzy gasped at the first touch, but the liquid cooled and soothed the pain within moments. “That feels nice,” she said to Fay. The felios woman nodded and kept working over the bruises.

“The Van t’Hof Trading Empire is vast and has a reputation of dealing harshly, swiftly, and brutally with any who cross them.” Chez pointed to a group of lamia at another fire. “See them?” Fizzy nodded. “Those are lamia phantoms–the deadliest assassins in the world. With a word from Nicholas or Glasha they would fade into the grasses and whoever had aroused the ire of our leaders would meet a painful death within hours.” She looked about before nodding her chin at another group. “Those there are known as ghazi. They are fierce raiders each with dozens of kills etched on the hilts of their weapons.”

Fizzy saw that each of the snake-like women had a long, curved sword by her side, each blade longer than Fizzy was tall.

Chez pointed to a small set of bovios women apart from the ones that had set up near the draft animals. “Those are taurs. I have seen them take multiple arrows and continue attacking.” She turned to face Fizzy. “Gore or trample. No weapons.” She smiled at the goblin. “You’re safer than in your mother’s womb.”

Fizzy nodded, scraping the last of the gravy from her bowl with the crust of the bread. “I see,” she said.

Chez and Fay both chuckled. “No,” said Fay, “you probably don’t. But you will. Sooner or later brigands will tempt the fates and attack.” She dabbed Fizzy’s nose with the rag and put the stopped back in the bottle with a pop. “Then. Then you’ll see.” She stood up and looked the goblin over. “Hmm, good broad breeder’s hips. No bust yet. You’ve not come into your first heat yet or one of yours would have bred you already and you’d have teats.” Placing the bottle in one of the many pockets on her shift, she landed back and stroked her lips with one hand. “I think I might have a loincloth from one of our kits that would fit you–if you don’t mind going topless.”

“Please, I’m used to being nude,” said Fizzy.

“That’s as may be, but Glasha said dress you, so dress you I shall.” With a smile, she patted Fizzy on top of her head. “You’ll learn it’s best not to anger Glasha.” She leaned in and whispered in Fizzy’s ear. “Even himself tries not to anger her!” she dropped to her knees and patted one of her thighs. “Foot,” she said. when Fizzy did as she was asked, the woman gripped her ankle, lifting the foot to look it over. “Good solid calluses. You won’t need footwear here in the Hissing Grasslands. to during this summer, at least.” She looked over her shoulder to the east where the darkening sky was already beginning to show stars. “But across the Dragon’s Spine you’ll need them sure enough.”

“I’m sorry,” squeaked Fizzy, “but did you say Dragon’s Spine?”

Fay laughed. “That’s the name of the mountain range that operates the grasslands from the Forests of Ard. We’re headed there in a roundabout fashion.”

“Oh,” said Fizzy, calming her breathing. She remembered the time her cave had been dug out by an earth dragon. They had lost half the clan before they’d retreated deeper into the rocks below ground. Dragons were among the most feared beasts in the world.

“Come,” said Fay, smiling as she stood. She took Fizzy’s hand in hers and drew her towards a tent. “Clothing, and I’ve an extra bedroll for you.” She looked at the sky with a practiced eye. “It will be a good night to sleep out under the stars,” she said. “Wait here,” she said, ducking inside. A few heartbeats later she came out with a bundle in her arms. She put the bedroll down on the ground and began holding the loincloth up in front of Fizzy. “Yes, this will fit,” she muttered to herself. Her eyes went up to Fizzy’s. Do you know how to don one of these?" she asked. When the goblin shook her head, she tutted. “If you don’t mind an intimate touch, I’ll show you.” When Fizzy nodded, Fay began explaining how to wear the loincloth. “There!” she said when they finished. “Not bad, if I do say so myself–and I do say so myself.”

Fizzy looked down at her waist. The white leather came up over the hemp thong tied around her waist, dipped down between her legs, and came back up over the thong again in the back by her bottom. It felt . . . pleasant. “Please,” she asked, “must I wear it while I sleep?”

Fay chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” She looked around and pointed. “Latrine is over yonder inside the circle of wagons.” She gave Fizzy a stern look. “If you know what’s good for you, do not go outside the circle. Slavery would be the least of what could befall you.”

Fizzy nodded. “Where do I set my bedroll?”

Fay looked around, seeming to feel the air. It’s a pleasant night. I don’t feel that it will be too brisk–and there were no clouds before the sun set. I do not fear rain." She pondered. “I don’t think you’ll need to bed by a fire. But maybe by a wagon’s wheel so you don’t get kicked in the night by accident?” She pointed over to one nearby. “That is my wagon. Feel free to pitch by it.”

Fizzy nodded and went to set up her bedroll. After a brief trip to the latrine, she lay down and tried to sleep. She berated herself for not saying goodbye or thank you to either Chez or Fay, but she was so tired. With the exception of the ear of street corn that Nicholas had bought her, this was the first time she’d eaten in several days and it made her head heavy.

Lying on her back, she looked up into the sky, noting curiously as the stars to one side of the camper began to wink out, one by one.

Just as sleep began to take her in its gentle caress, a cry went up all around the camp. “FIRE! Fire! The grass is on fire!”

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I still have enough to write about with the cards I’ve already drawn, so I’ll keep going. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes. Fizzy had just gone to sleep when cries of fire rocked her awake.

——

Shaking the sleep from her muddled mind, Fizzy glanced around, trying to remember where she was. Right. That human had bought her from the slavers and freed her.

To her left, on the other side of the wagon she had bedded down near was an orange glow. She could see tips of yellow flames leaping into the sky along with red sparks as seed pods burst apart from their consumption. With a gasp, she jumped to her feet, gathering her new bedroll up in her arms.

“Up in here” called a voice from over her head. Peering up, she saw the felios woman Fay looking down at her. “Yes, up here. If we have to make a break for it, you need to be in a wagon.”

Fizzy looked around, wondering how the wagon was going to move without its draft animals, but the bovios women had already attached the animals to this one and had moved on to the next. Shaking her head at her own silly indecision, she grabbed Fay’s proffered hand and allowed herself to be pulled scrambling up onto the wagon’s seat, the springs bouncing under her added weight.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Dunno,” said Fay, shrugging her shoulders. “There were no storms in the area, so it’s not a lightning strike. All of our girls know how volatile the grasses are this time of year, so none are stupid enough to knock out the bowl of their pipes where they could catch.” She paused, her eyes going up into the air.

Fizzy followed Fay’s gaze and spotted the three harpy women who had been swirling and swooping over the encampment dart off in an arrow towards the right side of the fire line.

“Spotted summat, they did!” said the felios woman, nodding her chin in their direction.

“Mum,” said one of the taurs women as she trotted up to the wagon. “Flames jumped the fire break we dug. Fixing to roll if himself does not say otherwise.”

“Understood,” said Fay, pulling the slack out of the reins in preparation. “Hold on tight when we start rolling,” she said to Fizzy. “Ride might get rough.”

Fizzy nodded. “Hold short,” said a voice next to the wagon making her jump. It was Nicholas. “Help inbound.” He pointed off to the left. A dark shape came swooping down out of the sky coalescing into a large silver form. A blast of sparkling spray burst forth, terminating along the fire line. Wherever it touched, the fire sizzled and went out. The shape swooped past, disappearing into the darkness only to turn and make another pass from the other side, against putting the fires out.

“Dragon!” whispered Fizzy, every sinew in her body preparing for flight.

“Friend,” said Nicholas, placing a hand on her knee.

One of the harpies landed next to him with a backsweep. “Several over yonder. Human. Smell of slaver on ‘em.”

Nicholas nodded and turned to one of the lamia women. “Fetch,” he said. Without a word, the snake-woman faded into the grasses.

“Ooh, they done fucked up,” chortled Glasha as she strode over to the wagon.

“Language,” said Nicholas in a half-sigh.

“Go fuck yourself,” laughed Glasha. She ignored Nicholas’ answering glare, turning her attention instead to the dragon overhead that was still sweeping back and forth across the fire line. With several more sweeps, the fire was out and the dragon swooped down towards Fizzy.

The goblin girl gave a shriek of terror and made to bolt, stopping only because Nicholas held her wrist. “Shh,” he whispered to her. “Friend, not foe.” Fizzy took a deep breath, nodding.

With a powerful backstroke of its wings, the dragon came to a halt midair and shrank. A lithe woman dropped from the height to land daintily at Nicholas’ feet. Straightening up, she met his gaze with a smile. “Nicky,” she said, the pupils in her amber eyes turning from slits into large circles. She held out her right hand. Nicholas let go of Fizzy’s wrist to grab the woman’s forearm as she did the same.

“Starshine,” he said with a warm smile, shaking her forearm. “So good of you to assist.”

Fizzy looked the woman up and down. She had silver scales on the sides of her face that ran up under the flowing white hair which in turn cascaded around her ivory horns before reaching down to her thighs. Her arms, too, had scales on them starting at the black talons of her fingers and leading up under the sleeves of the gown she wore. Fizzy pondered for a moment where the blue gown had come from when the dragon changed into a humanoid form. It had a slit in the back allowing the woman’s reptilian tail to poke out unhindered. She had no boots on her feet—feet that walked digitigrade and had massive claws on the ends of their toes. Fizzy squeaked as the eyes turned their gaze onto her. “Goblin,” said the dragon woman, “you are far from home.”

“Clan sold her to slavers,” said Nicholas, saving Fizzy from trying to find her voice.

“Ah, I see,” she replied. She paused as several lamia slithered into the lights of the wagons, three humans struggling in their grips. “Prizes,” she said, looking at Nicholas and motioning to the detainees.

“Let us go!” snarled one of them. “You have no proof! The courts will free us!”

Nicholas walked over to the mouthy one, staring him in the eye. “I do not need proof,” he said sotto voce. The slaver made to spit in Nicholas’ face, but the lamia holding him slapped his mouth before he could. “Do you not recognize me?” Nicholas asked the man.

“No, why should I recognize a dandy like you? All I know is you cheated me a fair price for that goblin cunt you outright stole from me!”

Nicholas gave him an evil smile. “I am Nicholas Van t’Hof,” he said. The man’s face turned white as the blood ran from it. A dark spot soiled the front of his britches. “Ah, I see that rings a bell.” He turned to Starshine. “I require three poles,” he said.

The woman nodded and jumped into the air, turning back into a dragon as her feet left the ground. She flew off into the darkness.

“My Lord,” groveled the man, “I did not know.”

Nicholas ignored him, turning to Glasha. “Smoke?” he asked her.

“Your friend has daughters, no?” she asked. Nicholas nodded. “Have her call them in to drive the smoke away.”

Nicholas’ eyes took on a faraway look. “Done,” he said.

Fizzy looked at Glasha. “I don’t understand. What just happened?”

“They share a link,” said the ork woman. “It’s a dragon thing.” She waved a hand in the sky as three more dragons came wheeling in, flapping their wings in a manner as to drive the smoke away from the caravan. Fizzy watched in awe, her mouth hanging open. Glasha poked a finger under the girl’s chin, pushing her mouth closed. “It’s fly season,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Fizzy was about to reply when the big dragon returned, three large poles gripped in her feet. Dropping them on the ground, she landed, this time still in dragon form.

“Where?” she asked Nicholas.

He hooked his chin in a direction. “Over there, by the trade road in.” Starshine grabbed one of the poles and walked over to the side of the road, her huge feet thumping as she walked. She drew her arm high into the air and slammed the pole into the ground, sinking it into the sod enough that it stood upright on its own. Waddling back over to Nicholas, she grabbed the other two setting them in the ground next to the first.

“String them up,” Nicholas said to the lamia. The snake women dragged the men, now screaming in terror, over to the poles.

EDIT: Blurred for graphic violence.

The men quickly had their wrists bound. The snake women coiled up around the poles, drawing the men to the top.

“Tied?” asked one of Nicholas.

“Nee,” said Nicholas, shaking his head. “Will be up there the rest of their lives.”

The lamia nodded and motioned down to one of the others. The second lamia slithered up arond the first and drew out a metal spike and a hammer. Drawing the terrified man’s wrists together, she hammered the spike though into the top of the pole, oblivious to his screams of anguish.

Fizzy swallowed hard, bile rising in the back of her throat as the same scene was played out for the other two men. All three were now nailed to the poles, their feet mere inches off the ground.

Nicholas walked up to the one who had tried to spit in his face. “I pronounce you guilty of trying to harm what is mine and sentence you to death by authority of the Van t’Hof merchant empire.” He pulled his ornate dagger and and slit the man’s abdomen open from chest to groin. The man gave a startled scream and looked down to watch as his entrails spilled out onto the ground. Fizzy lost her stew all over the ground by the wagon. The other two men began to scream and wail for mercy as Nicholas walked over to each, and one after the other repeated the process.

He turned to Glasha. “We are done here,” he said. “They will die in time. We are awake. I dislike the smell of smoke. I dislike their screams. Let us continue our trip.” As Glasha nodded and began to bark orders and profanities at those watching, Nicholas turned to the dragon. “Join us?”

“That was why I flew in. I longed for your company.” She smiled and drew a claw along his chin. He nuzzled into her paw. His eyes came up and locked onto Fizzy’s. “It is how we keep our clan safe,” he said to the horrified goblin girl. “All who cross us are made examples.” He called one of the lamia over. “Put up a sign,” he said.

“Yes, Lord,” the woman replied.

He climbed onto the back of the silver dragon. She jumped into the sky and the two flew off.

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Any thoughts or comments so far?

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Gonna be real with you, I haven’t read it yet, just gave you a like. That’s one huge wall of text one after another, and I’m not a big reader. I’ll give it a once over when I find the time and have the concentration and attention span to do so. Sorry :upside_down_face:

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And frickin’ @crabby358 who put me up to this is nowhere to be seen… Tch!

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So this was all made from that card setup you got? That’s pretty cool man I am no expert here so. You got a knack in this dude.

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And here I was waiting for the audio book read by Uncle Beestie! I have some time tomorrow afternoon. I’ll read it then.

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You have quite the imaginative flair. I am enjoying your story and I do hope you’ll continue. Love all the different species of monster ladies.

Did you take any inspiration from people in your life for the basis of your characters?
Glasha reminds me of you. She big, bawdy and spews curses. :smile:

When will you post your next chapter?
Looking forward to it.

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No, none are based off RL people. Glasha is an ork. I figured she’d be brash.

I don’t know when the next will come out. I figure 2 per month at least. Depends on inspiration and time.

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