You gyrate your pelvis and proudly strut up and down the street in your bright white high heels. Using your words of power, you have bound him to the ground, he begs for mercy as your choir boys douse him in magical fire accelerant. A crowd has gathered and they clap in time to the funky fresh pop beats you seem to be emanating.
The song reaches a sweaty crescendo, you pirouette and fireworks go off behind you. You snap your finger and point it at the heretic, while winking and making a kissy face. He bursts into flame, his screams are drowned out by the roaring of the crowd.
Popular Opinion of the God-Idol has risen by 12! The God Idol smiles upon you for your work! You have received a 5 gold gift card!
Filled with a sense of self satisfaction, you head to the Upper District of Deneral. You arrive at Maison Argent Déféquer. The stone steps have beautiful carvings of people bathing in fertilizer. The magical automatic doors open with a soft woosh. At the center of the lobby is a large fountain with a cherbub spraying water out of its behind. Classical music plays in the background, but otherwise, it is very quiet and relaxing, only the sound of your heeled boots against the gold inlayed tiles and the soft plopping of the bathhouse can be heard. There is a silver podium with a large, leatherbound guestbook, countless celebrities, politicians and religious bureaucrats. You approach the register and a tall, pencil moustache man greets you. Bonjour monsieur! Thank you for choosing Maison Argent, how can I help you today? Currently, we have several lovely Zun ladies working the inverse shower room, we also have a special on our free ranger,grain fed futa bath and if you are looking for some dry heat, the renowned Lolitus Innocentius Skuul is lending us their airs in the steam room."
You smile and slide over your gift card. The maitre D’s pleasant smile becomes a frown and he slides the card back to you…“I am most terribly sorry sir…even for such a…fine Priest such as yourself…perhaps you should visit one of the more…demure…bathhouses.”
Dejected…you slink out of the silver plated paradise and head to Uncle Bob’s shithouse in the lower quarter. A fat man at the counter reading a magazine either does not notice or care about your presence. You slide the gift card over he looks up briefly and pockets the card. “Tub 6, fifteen minutes” and goes back to reading “Little Girls; Big Poops” monthly. You try your best to ignore the screaming, but the bath is small, it is not particularly warm and all the other people watching you ruin the mood somewhat. None the less, you are glad you came.
Your hit points have increased by 1!
Your poison resistance has increased by 1!
Your rape resistance has increased by 30!*
Which one? Heavensbridge? Krapslyde Spire? The Tower of Nothing? Horsepike Manor? The Futa War Memorial? Compensation Keep?
Most dangerous of all, some 43 percent of all Essarcanian n’Groos live in low income, project towers.
The rashes on my voluptuous arse burn with an eerily familiar sensation, perhaps the latent memories of a life once lived. Although the breeze from the cool night breaches the tear in my snuggie and provides some relief to my wounds, I have seen how quickly the ferocious lust of man and beast can become unbridled in this new world. I salvage a new ensemble from the highwaymen. The clothes fit loosely over my now invisible mage’s snuggie, swallowing my small Zun breasts into obscurity and hiding my perfectly formed ass from all but the most journeyed of rapists. Now recognizing the white horse as a bad omen, and with no knowledge of the surrounding terrain besides that of the map in my satchel…I change my course to the city of Deneral. Not knowing how long it will take to reach my destination, I decide to eat while there is fresh meat available. Though the horse meat is tough, I use it in conjuntion with some flour scavenged from the carriage and a very peculiar mulch-like herb found on one of the men to make an improvised noodle soup.
Having a portion of my strength restored, I start my way for Deneral. After walking for what seems an eternity, my mind begins to travel inward. I envision a past life, a life lived in a world were science and logic were the rule of law. The only tales of magic were those from children’s stories and the probability of horse-rape was relatively low. In my vision, I’m a man…a virgin man that lived somewhat comfortably like most from his world, but at the cost of living without the adventured story to share, other than the contrived fantasies shared at the occasional gatherings of virginal peers. In this new world of sex and magic, one may make their own path to fame and depravity, to power and reverent fear, or even surpass the peaks of sexual ambition.
As I contemplate these things, I feel the mana begin to stir in my loins. I slowing start to return from my trance, only to find myself lying on the ground in reeling in pain and clutching my stomach. THE MULCH! The pain sharpens as I become fully conscious of my surroundings, and I try desperately to cry for help but to no avail. The last thing I see before succumbing to the pain are the lights of a city in the distance…
FORTH WALL DESTRUCTION!!! IN MY BEST MR. TORGUE ACCENT!!!
I assume that I’m a F, but I haven’t been officially given a sex that i know of. I’m just going off the basis that F’s and FU’s appear the same clothed. Could I perhaps get a bit of clarification, for my powers sake. Or you could just leave it in the dark for now, I’ll figure it out eventually.
MOM…WE NEED MORE CHIPS!!!
“Do suppose he’s awake bruv?” “How d’yknow its even a he…?” “Oh Oi don know…Terrible rash on is arse there was” “These damned Zun, mighty hard tell apart.” “Well a noice bottom he ad” “Thats wot I’m saying!..could a been a girly, didja even look!?” “Well, it aint proper to look at lady bits while she be sleepin, innit” “But look at is face! Mighty girly it is!” “They oll be mighty girly, wots the problem?” “I just…I just think its koind of…gay, ya know…to be attracted to a mans bottom”
You awake and listen to the conversation with mild amusement. The three of you are on horseback, with you in the middle. You cannot make out either of them, but you can smell tobacco and leather, which in combination with the scratching of the rear man’s beard upon your neck reminds you of kisses from your Grandpa, you can feel yourself being lulled back into sleep. You do not know, but you get the feeling you are going in the right direction.
"But Dr Slamma would!"
A the gate of heavensbridge, a squat, but very muscular man wearing only a speedo, a white overcoat a and bow tie exlaims. He suddenly grabs you and suplexes you onto first step of heavensbridge. “Heavensbridge!” He shouts as he lifts and suplexes you again, his back becoming a perfect arch each time. “Heavensbridge!” "Heavensbridge! “Heavensbridge!”. With each slam you ascend a single step.
Several hours later
"HeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddddddddddddddddggggggggggggggggggggeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!"
With a final, mighty suplex that rocks all 60 stories of heavensbridge tower, you have finally reached the top. Your body is very soft and malleable from being worked over so thoroughly. At the top, there is a table and a couple of chairs, with some napkins on a table. There is a window, but it is pretty dirty so you can’t enjoy the majestic view.
Your hit points are quartered!
Your armor is destroyed!
You feel disturbingly limber! You now fit into tight spaces more easily!
You have acquired “napkin”!*
“Of course not, its the third quarter, but there is still of lot of nig to be whipped! We’re winning 43-0, do you have your own whipanig stick?” Says a tall n’Groo man, his mutton chops are like fine wool…his voice is silky and soothing.
You nod a produce a fine, long lacquered wood box with a handle, you open it up and take out a an ebony whipanig stick with a dark leather handle. You place the box down on one of the many mahogony tables and head out to the grounds. There is much hooting and hollaring as several, well dressed n’Groo men chase a naked, light haired mensche around the perfectly manicured lawns. The mensche is obviously tired from the long match while the n’Groos are still looking quite dapper in their white oxfords, bowties and matching gloves. While new to these particular n’Groo gentlemen’s club, you know you way around a whipanig stick.
*
You score 18 hits!
You have inflicted 344 points of damage!
Your team has won the match!*
“I say! 18 points in one and a half quarters? You certainly know you how to whip a nig.” Says the man from before. “Cigar?” With a subtle motion, a zun maid comes over with an ornately decorated cigar box, opening it, the dank, pungent smell of mulch cigars fills the clubhouse. The man takes one for himself and lights it. You see his eyes shimmer and waver. With new found clarity he eyes your long overcoat, seeing the fine embroidery details and the glossy sheen that only high end, mensche hair soaked in futa juice has. Evidently he has noticed your massive personal wealth. “Perhaps a fine gentlemen such as yourself would be interested in joining our humble little ensemble?”
You wipe off most of the sweat and grease only to find the outside of the window is smeared and dirty with centuries worth of high impact bird collisions. You no longer have a napkin!
“HALT TRAVELERS! What business do you have in Deneral?” Cries a guard atop the wall at the entrance to the city.
“We be but simple trappers…fount this 'un pretty beat up on 'urr way back from checkin teh wompus-coon nets.” answers one of my burly companions.
“Hump, a couple of scrapes” says another guard as he shines a blindingly bright lantern in my face. “Nothing a few spots of mead can’t mend. The Serpent’s Taint has it’s door’s open at all hours if it’s drink you crave.”
I thank the trappers for their kindness and, having little desire for grog, ask the men if they recognize the language on my letter. “HA HA, ya 'urd that Jasper, this on thinks we can read 'eh does.”
“We must appear a couple a Mensches to 'er, ha ha ha.”
“If we be Mensche, 'ar own arse-hides be worth ten time the wompus-coons, right Shaemus, HAHAHA!”
“HA, let me take a look at that, probably another summons letter” said one of the guards, as all the men had a laugh. As he opens the letter, the Jolly expression on his face disappears. “Chumsley, have a look at this.” The laughter dies to an awkward silence as the guards start to form a circle around my companions and I. “Dreadful night to be out so late.” Says the head guard looking blankly into the moon, now beginning to be covered by the low hanging clouds. An ominous fog begins to move into the area, as I see a blade coming from the stomach of Shaemus and hear the gurgling of blood coming from Jasper as his throat was cut from ear to ear. I reach for my dagger, and using my clear-mage abilities, hide it from the sight of the guards. “Take this one to the Pitt.”
While being dragged down the stairway to the bowels of the dungeon, the clanking of chains and the smell of fear and shame bring back a rush of memories from Grandpa’s secret adventure games. The kisses I felt on my neck are now replaced by cold goosebumps, and I’m thrown into a damp cell. “Leave him for the bishop.” As the guards desert me, the light from the lantern slowly begins to fade until I’m accompanied by nothing more than the rancid smell of death, the cries of a tortured troll in the distance, and complete darkness. I clutch my dagger tightly and await my fate, chuckling sarcastically with flimsy hopes that circumstances can’t become much worse…
…high impact bird collisions!? There is obviously some secret about this room that makes it such a target for birds! I shall attempt to deduce the secret of this room! I roll my d20.
“I’ll join on two conditions.” I reply to the associate, “First off, I would like to pay for my membership on a tri-monthly basis. Second off, I would like to inspect your doorknobs. Do you think you can abide with these terms?”