Thursday, May 28, 2020
Video of Show Us Your Crits Episode 3 has been posted
In case you somehow missed the latest installment of the best kinky D&D show on the web, you can check it out now at https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5ec73b0e6cce8 !!
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
Episode #3 of Show Us Your Crits is this week!
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Sunday, May 17, 2020
Another letter from Yasath Lasl to per father
‘Ankmery ‘adad,
You can tell Rasenef that his diaries have travelled the stretching nothingness to be sold in the marketplace of Nyssa. He would be offended at the paltry price asked for the volume I found, but between you and me, amanatel, his pride has made that price appropriate. Never have I met another, dead or breathing, so willing to recast events to his own benefit! Whether because of my grace and the knowledge I showed of our culture and history, I was able to acquire a library of Dharian texts for a mere pittance. Some are titles I don’t remember seeing on the order’s shelves. Amanatel, do you know aught of the following:
* Skinner Of C'thognnutl
* The Crypts of Umhodr'drosh
* The Kitab al-Piltdown
* The Qabbalistic Void of the Stars
* The Imhebrul Codex
I have taken some time during our journey to explore them, but I am eager to know what you could teach me, as you always have.
I do hope yesterday’s letter has not caused you undue worry at my fate. I had been too full of questions at the strange events that ended our fray in the marketplace to think to tell you of our fate at the hands of those empowered to enforce the decrees of the Four Towers that rule Nyssa. The city watch did, as you might have guessed, look upon our killing of those three seeming wretches with suspicion, but the simple invocation of Lucia Masia Flaccus’s name as our patron was enough to prevent them from transmuting that suspicion into action.
You would be proud, amanatel. Your rayad assisted my fellow adventurer Zara ~ the Polarite half-orc I mentioned yesterday ~ in performing funerary rites for those we’d killed. These barbaric cities know not of Inpu and his scale, so his blessings were not what the two of us were asking for the many souls of these three. Instead we gifted them obsidian so that Tacitus might aid them in their journey to the afterlife. It seems the foreign dead must not make account for the value of their lives and how they were lived, but instead must wander the worlds until they find somewhere to settle. It is odd, but I have some ideas how Tacitus and Inpu might work together. I will write you more when I have had more time to think on it.*
Zara . . . she impresses me, amanatel, with her devotion and her praise. Here on the ship, while we completed the liturgy we’d begun in the watch station, I felt her draw upon the calm with which my childhood at Zekhimat blessed me. Her voice as she sang to Tacitus, weaving their harmonies around my entreaties to Inpu in our own language, quivered with the same frenzy she’d had as she burst that man’s head across the street. My presence, kneeling naked beside her, seemed to aid her in collecting herself so that this didn’t interfere with our work. She feels things deeply, and she does not bury them.
Before we left Nyssa, we attended a party at the temple of Iduma, and he it was who reminded me of forgotten matters. Iduma’s lover Lupa had my eyes, the one who has been with all whom I’ve served, and if not for Zara’s natural Dominance and attention to cultic etiquette, I would have totally forgotten to pay my respects to that deity who presided over the celebrations. After our respects were paid, we spent all of the party together, enjoying an easy companionship.
It seems the watch also looks poorly upon displays of lust in their garrison, as we could not finish our work before being driven out from its walls. It seems that Aster and Damon, growing bored as we prayed, had begun to entertain themselves. Luckily, Zara had the deftness to acquire some scraps of our assailant’s clothing. We were able to complete the rites just a short time ago as I write this, spilling the ashes of their clothing to trail behind us through the void between Nyssa and Arcadia.
Speaking of my companions, I must confide in you, amanatel, that I am unsure about Damon. My fellow duellist, in truth, puts on a cocky face and a posture like that of an actor on the stage. However, he seems anxious about the impression he makes, looking for success from outside himself. Allow me the chance to give you an example. While we had been shopping, we were invited to an event at one of the local temples. Have you heard of Iduma? He is the god of wantonness in this strange place, and the lover of both Tacitus whom I mentioned earlier, and Lupa, the one whose face I have seen in that of every noble I have served. Damon, in response to this invitation, embarked on a quest to find a concoction that might, by means of alchemy, herbalism, or pure enchantment, allow him to engorge beyond what he might naturally be able to accomplish. Thankfully, his quest to, as he said, “stack the deck” was brief, finding his treasure at the very first shop we visited.
What will happen if he is ever given the choice, I wonder, between a gilded image and the lightening of his heart? What if that balance is against aiding us his fellows? I cannot be certain which he would choose, and so I am finding my trust in him to be flimsy and cracked through.
As near as I can tell, the courtesan didn’t so much as uncork the potion he’d bought when we visited the temple party, despite spending all its money hours absorbed into the orgy at its center. Why would he go to such trouble, amanatel, only to leave it hanging from his belt?
You might have enjoyed the temple of Iduma, ‘adad, as richly decorated as it was, filled with sweating bodies writhing all slippery against each other. Do you remember when you used to tell me, sometimes daily during my early adolescence, that you serve the dead but love the living? I know I’ve told you this before, but that one saying of yours echoed in the chambers of my heart until they became the call that took me from Zekhimat to Menefhyt, and from there across the void. Your words were the living part which, when fitted into the corresponding gifts our ancestors had laid upon me, still guide my steps and direct my hand.
Iduma wears red, bright like freshly-spilled blood and what few scraps decorated the people there were in his color, and all the temple was swathed in it as well. Knowing this to be the case, I wove a type of flower known on Myyrin as an allisus** that blooms the exact shade of a deep bruise, a purple far darker than the snail-dyed clothes that marked both those we serve and those who have replaced them in arrogance. This is the color of Iduma’s lover Lupa, whose worship I have found in my work. Do not worry, amanatel, for I do still serve the dead. And I love the living, as well. Besides, they looked so handsome nestled in among the fur that was ‘amad’s gift to me.
I was not impressed by the ways of Delphinia, the priestess who had invited us. She seemed to treat me as just another amusement, a conversation piece to titillate the guests. Worse still, she lacked even the grace to have me rise from my curtsy when she was done with me. A truly crass woman, Delphinia disgracefully used our invitation to worship as a means to entrap us into fulfilling a task we no doubt would have happily completed with a polite request. I have reflected upon her actions since, and I do wonder ~ if Iduma is the god who throws away the chains that restrict one’s desire, then how could his devotee justify using force to accomplish her ends, whatever they may be? Amanatel, your life has been dedicated to spiritual practice. Though the ways may seem foreign and strange to you, mayhap you could advise me on this?
I also need advice about Aster. I wrote you yesterday of my concerns about her, and I fear some have been confirmed. Her offerings and tools seem to be chosen more for their cheapness than anything else ~ the cheapest book she could find, a bell so cheap the shopkeeper seemed insulted when she asked for it. Can this truly be Ailuros’s way? Do they really not wish to be given fine things, and to invest only the precious with their divine power? Surely no god is that way; we have spent centuries making ornate treasures for the dead of Zekhimat to use. I see no honor in cheap gifts, and in fact feel somewhat offended on Ailuros’s behalf.
But the concerns I fear most to have been confirmed, amanatel, revolve around her ability to discuss divine matters with me. I had hoped, since she is so loud in her devotion ~ and her devotions, I have since learned ~ that I could look forward to travels spiced with intriguing conversation. I approached her with my concerns about what she was planning for the ghosts who haunt the inn being purchased by Lord Graysong, and she could tell me little about how she viewed the afterlife, or even what the exorcism she planned to do would do. My chest hollowed out with a despair as empty as the void we travelled at this missed opportunity. I can only pray that Dulthir, whose secrets our antique cousins still keep beneath their peaks, sees fit to show me soon what I am to learn from her, and that I can maintain my awareness until then. I hope I do not miss Dulthir’s efforts from lack of hope.
Mizmithk***,
Yasath Lasl no-Dulanei
* Specifically, I imagine Yasath Lasl will be developing a view of the two based on that in ancient Egyptian religion between Anpu/Anubis (whom Inpu is obviously based on) and Wepwawet (whose role would be fulfilled by Tacitus).
** Actually meaning “bruised” in Latin.
*** “Your young jewel”, from Khuzdul or neo-Khuzdul “mizmith” (jewel that is young) and the almost certainly wrong application of the ancient Egyptian suffix pronoun for the 2nd person singular masculine
You can tell Rasenef that his diaries have travelled the stretching nothingness to be sold in the marketplace of Nyssa. He would be offended at the paltry price asked for the volume I found, but between you and me, amanatel, his pride has made that price appropriate. Never have I met another, dead or breathing, so willing to recast events to his own benefit! Whether because of my grace and the knowledge I showed of our culture and history, I was able to acquire a library of Dharian texts for a mere pittance. Some are titles I don’t remember seeing on the order’s shelves. Amanatel, do you know aught of the following:
* Skinner Of C'thognnutl
* The Crypts of Umhodr'drosh
* The Kitab al-Piltdown
* The Qabbalistic Void of the Stars
* The Imhebrul Codex
I have taken some time during our journey to explore them, but I am eager to know what you could teach me, as you always have.
I do hope yesterday’s letter has not caused you undue worry at my fate. I had been too full of questions at the strange events that ended our fray in the marketplace to think to tell you of our fate at the hands of those empowered to enforce the decrees of the Four Towers that rule Nyssa. The city watch did, as you might have guessed, look upon our killing of those three seeming wretches with suspicion, but the simple invocation of Lucia Masia Flaccus’s name as our patron was enough to prevent them from transmuting that suspicion into action.
You would be proud, amanatel. Your rayad assisted my fellow adventurer Zara ~ the Polarite half-orc I mentioned yesterday ~ in performing funerary rites for those we’d killed. These barbaric cities know not of Inpu and his scale, so his blessings were not what the two of us were asking for the many souls of these three. Instead we gifted them obsidian so that Tacitus might aid them in their journey to the afterlife. It seems the foreign dead must not make account for the value of their lives and how they were lived, but instead must wander the worlds until they find somewhere to settle. It is odd, but I have some ideas how Tacitus and Inpu might work together. I will write you more when I have had more time to think on it.*
Zara . . . she impresses me, amanatel, with her devotion and her praise. Here on the ship, while we completed the liturgy we’d begun in the watch station, I felt her draw upon the calm with which my childhood at Zekhimat blessed me. Her voice as she sang to Tacitus, weaving their harmonies around my entreaties to Inpu in our own language, quivered with the same frenzy she’d had as she burst that man’s head across the street. My presence, kneeling naked beside her, seemed to aid her in collecting herself so that this didn’t interfere with our work. She feels things deeply, and she does not bury them.
Before we left Nyssa, we attended a party at the temple of Iduma, and he it was who reminded me of forgotten matters. Iduma’s lover Lupa had my eyes, the one who has been with all whom I’ve served, and if not for Zara’s natural Dominance and attention to cultic etiquette, I would have totally forgotten to pay my respects to that deity who presided over the celebrations. After our respects were paid, we spent all of the party together, enjoying an easy companionship.
It seems the watch also looks poorly upon displays of lust in their garrison, as we could not finish our work before being driven out from its walls. It seems that Aster and Damon, growing bored as we prayed, had begun to entertain themselves. Luckily, Zara had the deftness to acquire some scraps of our assailant’s clothing. We were able to complete the rites just a short time ago as I write this, spilling the ashes of their clothing to trail behind us through the void between Nyssa and Arcadia.
Speaking of my companions, I must confide in you, amanatel, that I am unsure about Damon. My fellow duellist, in truth, puts on a cocky face and a posture like that of an actor on the stage. However, he seems anxious about the impression he makes, looking for success from outside himself. Allow me the chance to give you an example. While we had been shopping, we were invited to an event at one of the local temples. Have you heard of Iduma? He is the god of wantonness in this strange place, and the lover of both Tacitus whom I mentioned earlier, and Lupa, the one whose face I have seen in that of every noble I have served. Damon, in response to this invitation, embarked on a quest to find a concoction that might, by means of alchemy, herbalism, or pure enchantment, allow him to engorge beyond what he might naturally be able to accomplish. Thankfully, his quest to, as he said, “stack the deck” was brief, finding his treasure at the very first shop we visited.
What will happen if he is ever given the choice, I wonder, between a gilded image and the lightening of his heart? What if that balance is against aiding us his fellows? I cannot be certain which he would choose, and so I am finding my trust in him to be flimsy and cracked through.
As near as I can tell, the courtesan didn’t so much as uncork the potion he’d bought when we visited the temple party, despite spending all its money hours absorbed into the orgy at its center. Why would he go to such trouble, amanatel, only to leave it hanging from his belt?
You might have enjoyed the temple of Iduma, ‘adad, as richly decorated as it was, filled with sweating bodies writhing all slippery against each other. Do you remember when you used to tell me, sometimes daily during my early adolescence, that you serve the dead but love the living? I know I’ve told you this before, but that one saying of yours echoed in the chambers of my heart until they became the call that took me from Zekhimat to Menefhyt, and from there across the void. Your words were the living part which, when fitted into the corresponding gifts our ancestors had laid upon me, still guide my steps and direct my hand.
Iduma wears red, bright like freshly-spilled blood and what few scraps decorated the people there were in his color, and all the temple was swathed in it as well. Knowing this to be the case, I wove a type of flower known on Myyrin as an allisus** that blooms the exact shade of a deep bruise, a purple far darker than the snail-dyed clothes that marked both those we serve and those who have replaced them in arrogance. This is the color of Iduma’s lover Lupa, whose worship I have found in my work. Do not worry, amanatel, for I do still serve the dead. And I love the living, as well. Besides, they looked so handsome nestled in among the fur that was ‘amad’s gift to me.
I was not impressed by the ways of Delphinia, the priestess who had invited us. She seemed to treat me as just another amusement, a conversation piece to titillate the guests. Worse still, she lacked even the grace to have me rise from my curtsy when she was done with me. A truly crass woman, Delphinia disgracefully used our invitation to worship as a means to entrap us into fulfilling a task we no doubt would have happily completed with a polite request. I have reflected upon her actions since, and I do wonder ~ if Iduma is the god who throws away the chains that restrict one’s desire, then how could his devotee justify using force to accomplish her ends, whatever they may be? Amanatel, your life has been dedicated to spiritual practice. Though the ways may seem foreign and strange to you, mayhap you could advise me on this?
I also need advice about Aster. I wrote you yesterday of my concerns about her, and I fear some have been confirmed. Her offerings and tools seem to be chosen more for their cheapness than anything else ~ the cheapest book she could find, a bell so cheap the shopkeeper seemed insulted when she asked for it. Can this truly be Ailuros’s way? Do they really not wish to be given fine things, and to invest only the precious with their divine power? Surely no god is that way; we have spent centuries making ornate treasures for the dead of Zekhimat to use. I see no honor in cheap gifts, and in fact feel somewhat offended on Ailuros’s behalf.
But the concerns I fear most to have been confirmed, amanatel, revolve around her ability to discuss divine matters with me. I had hoped, since she is so loud in her devotion ~ and her devotions, I have since learned ~ that I could look forward to travels spiced with intriguing conversation. I approached her with my concerns about what she was planning for the ghosts who haunt the inn being purchased by Lord Graysong, and she could tell me little about how she viewed the afterlife, or even what the exorcism she planned to do would do. My chest hollowed out with a despair as empty as the void we travelled at this missed opportunity. I can only pray that Dulthir, whose secrets our antique cousins still keep beneath their peaks, sees fit to show me soon what I am to learn from her, and that I can maintain my awareness until then. I hope I do not miss Dulthir’s efforts from lack of hope.
Mizmithk***,
Yasath Lasl no-Dulanei
* Specifically, I imagine Yasath Lasl will be developing a view of the two based on that in ancient Egyptian religion between Anpu/Anubis (whom Inpu is obviously based on) and Wepwawet (whose role would be fulfilled by Tacitus).
** Actually meaning “bruised” in Latin.
*** “Your young jewel”, from Khuzdul or neo-Khuzdul “mizmith” (jewel that is young) and the almost certainly wrong application of the ancient Egyptian suffix pronoun for the 2nd person singular masculine
Thursday, May 14, 2020
Show Us Your Crits! Episode Two ~ The Temple of Iduma
Sadly, due to some technical problems, the first half of the session wasn’t recorded :-( I write these up from the videos, so I can’t go into my usual detail about what happened. Suffice it to say that the city watch took our crew in to question them about killing in Nyssa’s streets; the law, even medieval law, tends to look on such things with suspicion. Unless you’re in ancient Rome during the literally century-long civil war, I suppose. Sulla was not a nice man, but I digress. We got out of it by invoking Lucia’s name, though the guard still sent someone to check with her estate. While we waited, Aster was dissuaded from trying to seduce one of the guard. So she seduced Damon instead, leaning our fighter against the wall of the watch station and passionately making out with him.
We continued to use the simplified seduction rules from last session, as Charmscale was reworking the rules in Erotic Adventures to give advantage and disadvantage rather than bonuses beyond those typical for 5th edition. I believe we’ll be introducing the reworked version next session.
Once our name was cleared, the guard allowed Zara to see the bodies so she could place obsidian on prayers upon them to enable their afterlife journey; Yasath Lasl, well-versed in funerary rites, aided her. Afterwards, we finally made it to a secondhand bookseller named David. After Aster buys the cheapest book she can find, David notices Yasath Lasl browsing his small selection of books on Dharian, history, culture, and religion. Noticing especially a prayerbook from the old ways still practiced by per father’s order of monks and a diary written by one of the ancient pharaohs (who Yasath Lasl notes fondly to have always been quite self-aggrandizing), the dwarfin cat-queer seduces David in the form of both discussing, critiquing, and purchasing the ten volumes for the cut-rate price of a gold each. He promises to send per word should anything of their like to come through his stall, an event he plans to be particularly on the lookout for.
I really do wish that had been recorded. As an Autistic, I am not always great at flirting in real life, and when I said near the end of the interaction, “That was a seduction attempt,” it was greeted by appreciative sighs from the other players. Oh, well.
A group of women at the entrance to the shop had been giggling to each other as they sent glances towards the short, exotic-looking duellist. One of them, by the name of Delphinia, approaches to invite the party to a, well, to a party >.< at the temple of Iduma, god of wanton lust. She misgenders Yasath Lasl in the process of the invitation, but Damon corrects her. He also offered to carry Yasath Lasl’s purchases in his pack.
The recording starts in media res (obviously) with everyone eating at a marketplace food stall as the sun sets. The wenches, serving-boys, and servers of many other genders besides who work this eatery bring food around at regular intervals, meat on poles, trays of vegetables and spreads, for the customers to take. Pretty nice for a gold piece each! Yasath Lasl eats hummus, baba ghanoush, and lamb, while Zara fills herself with grapes and lamb . . . and lots of both, so she can keep her strength up. Aster and Damon are dining as well, of course.
As a random aside, I once did a bunch of research trying to figure out how the average inhabitant of a D&D world would react to a gold piece being thrown their way. Things like wage comparisons or the prices of various items went into the research, of course, but I quickly came to the conclusion that pre-industrial feudal agrarian economies are far too different from our own to make a direct economic comparison, especially when you add in magic.
I came to the conclusion that an average person would react to a copper piece the way we might react to $2-5. This meal then, would have been an extravagant one ~ the equivalent of us dropping $200-500 on a meal. But then, so much of that kind of thing is up to the individual DM’s interpretation of things, and I’m not yet sure what JayCee’s views on D&D economy are.
Dark falls while everyone eats and when they walk down the street afterward, they make note of many closed stalls, speckled with the few that are still open. Tiny two-wheeled carriages pulled by various types of people clatter pass, the empty ones calling out naught but a couple pieces of silver will convince them to take a body wherever it should want across Nyssa. The heroes of our story choose not to take any of them, but walk and stop by an alchemist’s kiosk about a quarter mile from the stall that had fed them, very near the temple of Iduma. The stall is spooky looking, a weird little place of the sort that requires an internal dare to approach, as the heebie-jeebies give you pause.
Damon leads the approach to the kiosk, which is being haunted by an older woman in a black gown, presumably a human of some sort and quite definitely a crone. Maybe 70, with long silver hair, she’s not ugly or scary but rather intimidating as her icy blue eyes immediately catch Damon’s gaze. She looks at him with a smile and says, “I am Matilda. I am the purveyor of all that you see around me and these are things I have crafted and brewed myself. I am quite handy with herbs and various liquors and various elixirs. What can I do you for?”
Damon responds with a simple and efficient reply. “Standard potions of healing or engorgement.”
“Engorgement?” Aster inquires.
“Why not?” Damon asks with a shrug and a slow grin. “We’re going to a party.”
“OK.” Aster’s shrug is eloquent.
Matilda’s reply is at least as meaningful. “Ah, okay, that’s what you mean. . . .” She stands and, after a moment, exclaims, “Ah! I would expect from such someone who was as, well, actually, no! Someone as young as you actually needs that sort of assistance?”
“Stack the deck.” Damon’s efficiency of speech continues unabashed.
“As you wish…”
Damon interrupts her, discovering a stash of verbosity. “Stack the deck. You know what I mean. You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. I don’t even know these people, so there’s, if, if, if, if tools are at my disposal, there’s no point not making use of them, you know what I mean?”
“Understood,” Matilda acknowledges. “I do have four healing potions. Available. For purchase. They are—”
“Perfect—” Damon speaks over the merchant. . .
. . . and she responds in kind. “They are—”
“There’s four of us.”
“They are fifty gold apiece. But you will find them quite useful,” Matilda finally finishes.
“Uhhh, I—”
Aster jumps in. “If you try to bargain, maybe they’ll go lower than that?”
“First,” Damon says to Aster before turning back to Matilda, “how much is the potion of engorgement?”
“Um, that potion is . . . ,” she looks and says, “well, if you’re going to, if you’re going to buy the potions of healing, I will throw in that potion for free.”
Damon tries to bargain her into giving him two potions of healing and the engorgement for 50 gold. Matilda straightens to show a merchant’s bearing of shrewd steel.
She critted on her roll, while Damon . . . did not. One day, Pat will roll well!
A defeated Damon tells his compatriots, “OK, well, if anyone else wants to pony up their cash for a potion of healing, go right ahead. I’m gonna, um, I guess I’ll take one and then, um, how much for the dick juice? Five?”
“You’re a kind looking young man,” in Matilda’s steel are set two soft and indulgent sapphires of eyes, “and I’m sure you’re using it for fun and pleasure. I will just throw that in with a potion of healing.”
Yasath Lasl speaks to get Matilda’s attention, “Lovely Miss Matilda, might you be possessed of items that are less disposable than potions, perhaps for the same price? Something with a more continuing effect?”
“What was it that you need?” Matilda asks the pink-furred and -bearded dwarf. “I didn’t quite understand you.”
“I’m just curious about your stock, my dear.”
“Ah, most of it is things relating to healing. I do have some very expensive potions that are known to have very—allow you to read a mind or possibly become stronger, but those are, those are for, those are very expensive.”
“Do you keep anything that isn’t potions?”
“I do have random herbs and other things. I deal with a lot of different people coming in. If you need herbs to make into incense, if you want incense, if you need candles, I am the one you want, for I have those as well. Or stones, gems.”
“Any of them enchanted or possessed of their own innate magical properties?”
“For that, you would have to go find, probably go find one of the wizards. One of the Towers. Here, I have, I have things that I can make out of the herbs that I purchase or that are brought to me. And every once in a while I do find something of interest, but those don’t go cheap.”
“I am sure that you, with all of the wisdom that you have gained throughout the years, price everything just so, just perfectly appropriately.”
“Yes, it has to do with the cost of the materials to make and the risk involved in making them or if I need to hire someone to go find material components.”
“Risk involved? There’s risk?”
“Well, yes, if it is something that I need say I need a scale from a dragon or I need a tooth from a—”
Aster interjects with a simple, “Oh my!’
“Then obviously,” Matilda continues, “I’m going to have to pay lots of money to have those items retrieved.”
Yasath asks, “And do you fetch these yourself?”
“No,” Matilda answers. “That is why I have to pay others to do so.”
“Ah,” is Yasath Lasl’s only comment.
“Do you have a component list that you can . . . ,” Damon asks.
“At the moment I am well, but if at some point in the future you find yourself back in Nyssa, I would be happy to send you out on a mission. I do pay well for more exotic materials.”
“We shall be coming back this way soon,” Yasath Lasl informs her. “Do you have only the potions that will mend our wounds for about that price, or are there other things that you carry?”
“I can, I can sell you a, a healer’s kit at a little less of a cost. However, you would have to be knowledgeable at medicine in order for it to be used effectively.”
“That makes sense. I was asking if there were other potions you might sell for approximately 50 coin?”
“All the rest of them are pretty much mundane.” Matilda points to several items in turn. “One’s to stop a cough, another’s to pour over sore feet or perhaps a sore throat or a problem with the eyes, but nothing, but nothing, they are all medicinal, herbal medicinal, not particularly magical, such as potions of healing or other potions of that nature.”
“I understand. Thank you so much for enlightening me.”
“Very well, I wish, I bid you good evening.” She looks over at Damon. “Enjoy the other potion! Make sure you take the right one! Be quite a waste if you take the other one.”
Damon makes sure to note where he put what, then asks if she has bells.
Chat, including my real-life Mistress, had been flooding with reminders that we needed to purchase them for the exorcism.
Matilda looks among her stock and says, “I have ritual bells. I am a fully—I do have everything here that would be needed for metaphysical practices, so yes, I do have multiple bells. There are bells you could tie around your ankle, there are bells to ring during a ceremony . . . .”
“Ok,” Aster says. “I just need a cheap bell.”
“A cheap bell? Well, this one is—I don’t carry cheap products, as a point of pride. However, I do have inexpensive bells.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”
She pulls out a bell, not really well-shaped, looking like someone jammed a stick into a bell end. She gives it a quick and quiet ring to show that it works. “I will give this to you for two silver.”
“Alright!” Aster buys the bell. “I now have all of the stuff required to perform a, a, a exorcism of Ailuros. For all of the good that will do for me, probably.”
Matilda smiles and bids everyone a good evening, a safe evening, and a fun evening. She winks at Damon as she offers that last, and goes about putting stuff away on her shelves.
Damon turns to his companions once they had walked a short distance from Matilda’s kiosk. “Forwards to the party?”
An initial moment passes with only Aster’s “Uhhh” to break the silence.
Damon explains, “Or do we need to drop stuff off or, I dunno. . . . What do you guys think?”
“I would like to get my paddle,” Zara acknowledges, “and get changed.” Her desire seems to be shared amongst all and they begin to part, headed towards their individual residences.
Before they fully separate, however, Yasath Lasl turns to the half-orcish priest. “You said you wanted to prepare? Would you enjoy an attendant?”
“I can always use a slave, slave.” At Zara’s words, Yasath Lasl smiles and bows per head modestly. Not a trace of a blush is to be seen on per face.
Although everyone’s various apartments are in other parts of town, everyone makes sure to walk fast. They all meet back at the temple of Iduma, about an hour or so later. The temple has an interesting configuration, its front hemmed with pillars stretching up 20, 30 feet high, at least, to support the roof. The building does have walls, but they’re recessed. Between the pillars, a very sheer red-looking cloth is draped so that shadows of what’s going on inside can be seen without details or background. These cloths are tethered at the bottom with stakes so the wind doesn’t blow them up or down. Multiple shapes within the building can be seen, tantalizing passers-by with hints of what’s going on inside. There must be giant braziers inside because of the way the light is flickering against the back of these cloths.
The red, of course, is Iduma’s color, and so is everywhere. However, his lover Lupa’s color is purple, and so Yasath Lasl appears with purple flowers perched in per pink fur. Per cat ears can be seen poking out from among the bruise-colored blossoms on per head. Where possible, per has accented per garment with purple adornments of many kinds ~ purple lace and purple jewelry and purple makeup upon per eyes and lips.
Iduma is the narcissistic neutral good god of wanton (who grants the Lust domain), concerned only with his next sexual conquest. He is depicted all in red, very sensual and erotic, and is in a triad with Tacitus and Lupa. Where Iduma is outgoing, Tacitus is quite aloof and often stays out of the troubles of mortals. The neutral god of destruction and ruin (who grants the Death domain), his only concern is to ferry persons from one life to the next. Dressed all in blue like the color of corpse-flesh, he wanders through the realm with a staff made from pure obsidian. This is why obsidian is often given as gifts for the dying, like Zara and Yasath Lasl did at the watch station: so that Tacitus will assist them over the bridges of water to the gates of The Void.
Lupa, the chaotic neutral goddess of agony and desire, stands between her two lovers in many ways, including taking a bruise-like purple as her color and offering her clerics both of the domains offered by the other two. She is also the one whom Yasath Lasl has seen in the faces of every noble per has ever served.
There is no one standing outside. Music can be heard as shapes of people move about against the scarlet screens. Zara and Damon have left their weapons behind, while Yasath Lasl wears per rapier on per belt, very obviously peace-bonded, and Aster’s whip trails from hers. “Let’s go in!” Aster exhorts everyone excitedly.
Everyone goes up the steps, brushing the material aside to reveal a fascinating scene, almost eerie, that leaves everyone with the slightest nausea. Two large braziers flank the pillar where they enter, as do temple guards. Knights of Iduma, they wear nothing but red silks, tabards sashed at the center like a belt. In fact, they greatly resemble Lady Flaccus’s guards. At their sides, a gladius is tucked and ready. They use tower shields to keep themselves upright, and have galea perched upon their heads, a big brush of red feathers flowing with every slight movement. This crest matches the red that fills the entire celebration. The tiles of the floor form mosaics depicting various passions with various participants.
There’s another set of braziers across the pretty big room. The center looks like a pit with steps going all the way around it going down, and it’s filled with some sort of temple orgy. There are people sitting on the steps, audience to the activities, as bowls of fruit are passed around. As the foursome stares, some of the congregants crawl out of the orgy pit and sit down among that audience or come back up to rest or eat. Off to the sides, more shadowed areas hide the things going on inside behind sheer curtains.
As soon as we enter, we see Delphinia, the woman who invited us. Pretty much nude except for a loincloth that goes down to her knees, her body and extremities are incredibly jewelled. More jewels clasp her hair up before letting its long curls roll down her back, their quite dark beauty framing her flesh. Delphinia approaches Yasath as the cat-like dwarf pulls off per coat to reveal even more skin displayed by the sexy leather armor now no longer underneath that coat.
Aster, on the other hand, strips down fully. “I mean, some of the other people are naked,” she says. “Why not?” She doesn’t like wearing clothes very much. In the temple of Ailuros she never wore anything.
Delphinia snaps her fingers at this, and one of the temple guards puts his shield down to walk over and collect their clothes. He smiles, and with a snap of his leg moves to another area containing a bunch of tables. The garments find a home here, all in a group, and the guard returns to his position. Aster smiles as people standing around definitely give their nudity appreciative smiles.
“I am glad you made it,” Delphinia announces, “and especially the little one here.” At this, Yasath Lasl drops into quite a deep curtsy and remains there seemingly without effort, head bowed. “I have been telling my sisters about per and obviously, we’re all intrigued. But there are many delights to be had here. The orgy I would say is just the most mundane of them. Behind each of the curtained areas you will find various forms of pleasure, relaxation, and even healthcare, as you would put it. But please, wander around. Enjoy, and,” she points over to a little station to one side, where some of the priestesses are sitting and chatting, “please return there before the evening is over. We would love to enjoy you all.”
Without lifting per head, rising, or even showing a quivering of per muscles, Yasath Lasl replies, “I am glad I could make it. I knew it would bring you pleasure. I do enjoy pleasing.”
Delphinia nods and smiles and gives a wink and then walks back over to join the rest of the priestesses. Yasath remains there for a moment, still in that deep curtsey, waiting to be dismissed. With a cocked eyebrow, the swashbuckler eventually rises on per own volition. After it becomes clear that Delphinia was not planning to say anything.
Everything around is just noises of pleasure. The sounds and the music coming from somewhere unseen overwhelms the four. The air smells of candlewax and sex. Aster appreciatively comments, “Just like home.”
By now, Zara has let her robe fall open to show the piece of red silk across her body. She nods to the temple as a whole as she looks across it, seeing a bunch of places to explore, at least. Many curtained-off areas hug the wide walls that define the spacious sanctum. Some smiles in the party’s direction, some waving of hands to come over, and moans of aspiration trickle from the orgy pit. The priestesses of the temple in their station look back and forth at the group every once in a while, trying to see where we’re going to go. They seem to do so more out of interest than anything sinister.
Aster hurries to join the orgy. Reading the situation for what it is ~ fairly anonymous ~ Damon decides not to quaff his potion of engorgement before finally disrobing, and then, remembering his watch-station romance with Aster, follows her, while Zara goes to check out the alcoves. The priest of the Holy Warrior is looking to play. She starts with the booth nearest the back, not far from statues of Iduma enjoying his two lovers, Lupa and Tacitus. On the other side of the room, where the other two great braziers are burning, the area looks more like an altar space than the open layout of the rest of the temple. Yasath Lasl follows the right-handed Zara, slightly behind her on her left. “Mm-hmm,” is her only comment as she looks back with a faint smile.
The orgy pulls Aster and Damon in as soon as they step in. The sensation is less like they’re falling onto something hard and more like falling onto a large mass of writhing flesh. Aster repeats, with more gusto, “Just like home.” Aster is the belle of the ball. Many of the bodies in the pit seem to gravitate towards her, caught by the inexorable force of her beauty.
She’d made a Sex roll to see how well she performed and rolled quite well.
Zara and Yasath Lasl, walking towards the back, can hear all kinds of various noises coming from behind the curtains they pass. They look behind the curtain Zara chose, and discover something both sexy and interesting because it’s not a practice often seen, or at least, not in temples. Three low bathtubs hold noblewomen while temple slaves or maybe devotees in service to the temple surround them on raised platforms wearing only red loincloths, and short ones at that. A fourth tub sits, empty and inviting. The noblewomen revel in rubbing thick fluid into their skin.
This causes Zara to cock an eyebrow as her eyes run across the scene appreciatively. “Intriguing.” She takes a glance back at Yasath to see if the elegant little one is interested in taking part. Yasath Lasl’s eyes are alight with eager welcome to all of the activities they are taking in, including this, but Zara perceptively notes that per eyes occasionally flick towards the nearby altar.
Zara nods and quietly exits the alcove, turning to look at the statues. She extends two of her fingers wide beneath the rest of her hand in front of Iduma’s statue, and Yasath Lasl walks over to Iduma’s statue to stand, feet apart, arms behind back, elbows out, and head up. Zara smiles as the two spend a few meditative moments there. Upon the 6’4” half-orc indicates that the 3’11” dwarf may be released from per position, Yasath Lasl traces a hand along Zara’s wrist and hand as per walks toward the statue of Lupa.
Obligingly, Zara follows and watches as Yasath Lasl kneels in the most submissive position, legs fully tucked under, hardest to rise from, hardest to act from. A pink-furred hand with purple-painted nails reaches back to the rapier and slices its palm, bringing a significant wince to Yasath Lasl’s face. The Dharian places this blooded hand at the foot of Lupa’s statue. Zara gently brushes the top of Yasath Lasl’s head with her hand and indicates that per should rise. Yasath purrs and obeys.
After getting her rocks off a few times ~ and getting a few other people’s rocks off ~ Aster finally investigates the temple’s alcoves. Besides the alcove her friends had already visited, she finds one with some very sensual massage going on, and another reminiscent of a dungeon. In this one, there are racks, there are yokes, and there are tables and Dominant priestesses having visitors bound and gagged and . . . doing other things. Zara is here when Aster looks, knee-deep in whipping some poor young man. Very much enjoying it, too. Submissive noblemen are lining up to be used by her. She shows off to this audience of men willing to perform pretty much any task she puts to them. Yasath Lasl, on her orders, is preparing the men to be whipped and paddled, orders which per dispatches with a relish. The ones that need fluffing are obviously per favorites.
As one steps up to replace his predecessor before her paddle, Zara comments to Yasath Lasl, “Very good fluffer.”
“Yes,” Aster agrees.
The cat-like fencer’s reply is uncharacteristically simple and unadorned. “The fur helps.”
Other alcoves have tables with submissive men or women, perhaps servants in the house or maybe just people who have come to enjoy it, laying out in tables with various foods over them. Other people are eating the foods off of their body. In another, they’re doing needle play, or maybe acupuncture. And the last alcove is the champagne room, where very sexually mundane things are going on. Each alcove gets a wordless murmur from Aster to reflect her various reactions to these activities.
No ill intent can be seen, leaving our four heroes to wonder why they were invited so randomly, beyond Yasath Lasl being interesting. No one challenges them on anything they do and anything they ask for throughout the evening is given without question. Sometime in the third watch of the night, perhaps between the 8th and 9th hours, they have all finally had their fill of everything. Well, three have had their fill, and Aster wades into the orgy and grabs the last, unsated member of the party, grabbing a few other things while she’s at it and massaging them a little.
Despite my bachelor’s in Latin, I had to hit Wikipedia to translate the modern time of 2 am into Roman time.
The priestesses are still there, some of them having joined in the orgy, walked around, participated in other things. Damon having rejoined his associates thanks to Aster’s efforts, the four of them begin gathering their clothes and things and re-collecting themselves. Delphinia approaches them in their half-dressed state. She looms over them with a smile and asks, “So did you all have your fill of pleasure?”
Last to leave the party, first to respond, Damon replies, “Oh yes! My cup runneth over.”
“It reminded me so much of my home temple,” Aster adds.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it because, obviously, nothing’s for free.” Delphinia’s hostess smile transmogrifies into a devilish grin as a variety of sounds from the last few death throes of the party bounce from the temple walls. Yasath Lasl returns it in kind. “So . . . my ears have it that you may be venturing to Arcadia soon.”
The answer comes from Ailuros’s priestess. “That’s about right.”
“I want you to take a message to someone,” Delphinia says. “That’ll be your payment, and they may have a task for you to do while there.”
Aster agrees to this, immediately.
Iduma’s priestess smiles. “I am glad you’re being agreeable.”
Fucking outraged by this, Damon puffs himself up in an attempt to be intimidating. Delphinia looks startled, at least, at his attempt. She is quite obviously preparing herself to meet bombastic force with more bombasity, but that force quickly fades as Damon’s attempt come across as less a battering gale and more of a cool breeze. She says instead, “Oh, well, I apologize for some of the deception, but this is something that’s very simple. And once you reach the other side, you actually have the option of not taking the task. But the message is very important.”
“Fair enough. Okay,” Damon replies as he dissipates.
“You are to find a merchant in Arcadia by the name of Gorman. No middle name. No last name. Many people know him because he’s probably one of the most annoying people in the Merchant Guild there.”
Aster giggles while Zara says, in a mysterious tone which none present would be able to call either sarcastic or genuine, “Oh, great. Another annoying man for me to paddle.”
“He’s not,” Delphinia replies, “he’s not quite a man, but, uh, I guess he would like to think himself one. He is Cignan, and if you’re not, if you’re not familiar with the Cignans, then you’re in for quite the treat. But I simply want to have you give Gorman this.” She holds out a medallion, chipped and broken. Looking truly ancient, it reveals some writing in ancient Khazar on the back as it rotates from its chain beneath the priestess’s fist. The writing resembles Draconic, of course, and the language as well, but of course, the two are not the same. “Deliver this. Gorman will know this is from me and know what the message is, and, uh, and that’s it. He may offer you a task. You may accept it, you may not. And if you return here, you are more than welcome to one of our parties again. I am sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together, but it looks like you were having fun doing other things.”
Yasath Lasl appears to have a moment of internal debate before per simple response slips through a purring throat and still lips. “I was having great amounts of fun with someone who is quite elegant and skilled.”
Aster had loads of fun, yup, so she tells Delphinia exactly that. “I had loads of fun.”
“Loads of fun,” Delphinia replies from back in her grinning mouth.
“Loads and loads and loads, at that.”
Zara just massages her arm and smiles. Enough said.
Everyone leaves the temple together, but go back to their individual apartments, with about four hours until they have to be on the Raging Queen. All of them spend those hours sleeping.
Our four heroes meet at the docks soon after they each wake, to find their ship posted at the end of one of the dock’s piers, a wooden platform over whose edge the adventurers can see a swirling void. A little trippy, this view leaves them a little on the dizzy side. Despite being rather accustomed to the view, it’s still always kind of odd when you first look into the void. Years ago, before people got used to it, they would refer to “void madness” as a common affliction.
Aster gasps at the sight. “Wow!” But she doesn’t look down that much. Zara walks to the edge of the dock to send a small prayer into the nothingness.
Captain Longwhisper, Captain Tasman Longwhisper, the half-orcish captain of the Raging Queen, greets the group of four upon their entrance onto the ship. She is definitely more of a cultural half-orc than Zara is, which means that her style and her ways owe much to the Jade Empire. A huge war fan is embedded in her coiled braids of hair. She wears a kimono, and beneath it armor that seems to be made of folded pieces of highly lacquered wood; the armor features long greaves protecting her dark green skin. Welcoming everyone aboard, she says that she has been expecting them and that the ship is theirs to do with as they will. The trip should be a fairly quick one and anything aboard the ship is at our disposal, she informs them before storming off to yell at the ship-hands to prepare everything.
The adventuring party is shown to their cabin below deck. A common cabin, it has six hammocks, three stacked on top of each other on either side. The top bunk has a little rope ladder next to it that can be dropped down. As in the rest of the ship, magical devices give off light and a spellwrought fire pit relays heat when needed, though it’s a pretty comfortable temperature at the moment. The ship doesn’t seem to be carrying many other passengers. Rather, it’s carrying cargo. It make its way across the void for an uneventful day and a half.
Somewhere in that time, Aster hears ~ pointedly hears ~ steps coming up behind her as she is trying to seduce one of the off-duty ship peoples. She turns around to see Yasath Lasl crossing per arms thick with both muscle and fat, falling to the side to lean against the wall. “I was wondering if you had a moment,” the Dharian submissive says.
“Yeah,” says the human, “I think I got a moment.” She turns to her prey. “Come visit me in my cabin later, but right now I have to talk to my fellow adventurer.”
“Come stare into the void with me?” Yasath Lasl asks lightly.
“Okay.” Despite Yasath Lasl’s casual affect, a nervous tone colors Aster’s reply.
Yasath Lasl walks her upstairs to lean on the railing on the side of the deck, looking out into the nothingness. Landmasses off in the distance look like little pinpricks of earth in the void, extending to peaks above and below even to the depth of what would have been underwater if there was water. Speaking of water, it can be seen just pouring off the side of some of the floating landmasses into the void. It’s kind of beautiful in its own way.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Yasath Lasl asks.
Aster answers, “Quite lovely.”
“The land, hanging in nothingness, dragon-broken.” Yasath Lasl continues without turning per pink-circled head to face Aster, “I was wondering: you have said repeatedly that you wish to exorcise those whom we have been sent to meet.”
“You mean the, umm, ghosts or haunted whatevers?”
“I do.”
“I’m gonna give it a try. I mean . . . give it a try.”
“What, may I ask, in . . . . Your, your goddex is new to me. I have not yet met ~ is it Ailuros?”
“Ailuros.”
“Ailuros,” Yasath Lasl repeats, now with impeccable pronunciation. “I have not yet met Ailuros. I am familiar with the Dharian entities I was raised worshiping, the Dvergarin entities that my ancestors worshiped, and the face I see in the face of all who contract with me. A few others. What would an exorcism mean, to one who worships Ailuros?”
“Well, umm, generally you read from the . . . generally you hold the book in one hand and the bell in the other and then you masturbate with the dildo. Or someone masturbates you with the dildo, more like. And then you cum and the ghosts go away, but that only works for priests, generally. So I’m gonna try, but I don’t think it will work.”
“Go away?”
Aster answers simply, “Yeah.”
“What do you mean, go away?”
“Like, umm, I don’t know. The exorcism rite is very non-specific”
Now Yasath Lasl turns per head so that per golden, cat-slitted eyes bore into Aster’s. “Do you mean to destroy those we were sent to meet?”
“Of course not. I think they go to wherever ghosts are supposed to go after death?”
“In my experience, wherever a ghost is, is wherever they were supposed to go after death.”
“Okay.”
“Or else they would be somewhere else.”
“If you say so. Umm, yeah, Ailuros isn’t really much for detailed depictions of the afterlife. They’re more about, well, sex.”
“My people are,” says the dwarf whose ancestors journeyed from Khazad-Dum to Dhar. “And sex features quite prominently in that afterlife. My own first lover was a mummy. Umm,” per eyes drop from Aster’s as Yasath Lasl seems to collect per thoughts, “I understand the job we have been given to be to restore the rites and relationships between the living and the dead in this building. So that they can coexist as peacefully as my father’s people coexist with the dead of Zekhimat, the Valley of the Kings.” Yasath Lasl lifts per head up once more to face Aster firectly. “And I am worried that your actions seek instead oblivion for them.”
“Frankly, I wasn’t planning on performing the exorcism without, I don’t know, investigating first, at the very least.”
“Yes, but I wanna make it clear. I have been given to you as a student; you have not contracted with me.”
“Nope.”
“I am here to learn, and I am here to bring the living into right relationship with the dead, not to bring oblivion to those who ought to be respected and worshiped.”
“Okay. I mean, according to Ailuros’s faith,” Aster explains again, “the dead are supposed to move on to whatever comes next. Like I said: very nonspecific. So, the exorcism is supposed to help them do that in a very sensual fashion.”
“What do you know of my home?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“It is now ruled by five-scorpions-stung merchants who seized power from those I was raised among. The pharaohs: now dead, yet living. I was trained in their ancient ways. In those traditions, you can continue after death and, in fact, the pharaohs often did. And this is an honored state, a blessed state. It makes communication much easier with your ancestors. Lessons that can be learned. And it is the job, it is the work of my father’s people to make them relics that they may use in their unlives. To perform the rites and rituals that nourish them, that keep them in good relationship with the living, who grew from them after all. That is the distinction. If a spirit was to move on, it would have. If the spirit was to remain as an advisor and nourisher—”
“Do we even know if, if this is a spirit or something else going on?”
“That’s true. That’s true.” Yasath Lasl stands back on per heels, turning away from per view of the void to face Aster.
“I was planning on just like investigating and just seeing what happens, basically. I wanted the exorcism materials just kind of as a—”
“That’s true.”
“What-if type scenario,” Aster finishes.
Yasath Lasl leans toward per taller companion. “I am saying that I prefer that that what-if be taken off the table.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.” Yasath Lasl curtsies. “I’m in your debt.”
Aster has a hammock full of sailors all throughout that night. In fact, the cabin is quite full of them; Zara, for example, has the first mate in her power. Sailors are quite easy to seduce, after all. There’s really no turbulence on the void, generally. When there is, it’s definitely a moment for panic, but this trip is a rather smooth ride for the most part.
The city of Arcadia comes closer and closer in the distance, and more and more of its details can be seen. Striking . . . well, not fear, but it is definitely a thing out of place, is a large Khazar dragonship on one of the far docks as the Raging Queen pulls up. Full-blooded Imperial humans stand seven-foot or more tall upon the docks. They’re massive, taller than Zara, with dark skin and dark long hair. Dragon motifs cavort across the various clothing and armor they wear. There’s a whole contingent of them, milling up and down the docks even around the town itself. Captain Longwhisper looks really anxious as the ship docks. “My advice to you as you get ready to disembark is to just avoid them as much as you can. Just, if they say anything—”
Aster replies, “I was wondering how they were in bed, but . . . okay. That sounds like good advice, actually.”
“Yeah,” adds Damon, “fuck these guys.”
“Considering that they tend to like to torture lovers after the fact is, is, is,” she seems to be searching for a word large and specific enough to cover a feeling whose undertow is threatening to drown her, “and we’re not talking pleasurable torture. They will remove limbs if they’re not pleased, so just—”
“I rarely don’t please my lovers,” an indignant Aster insists. “Very rarely.”
“They like to box people,” Damon says to her.
“Box?” she asks.
Damon turns to Captain Longwhisper and tells her, “I would, I have every intention of staying as far as fuck away as possible from them.”
And that was the end of the session! JayCee informed us that we could level up at this point. Zara, Damon, and Aster all advance to the second level of their respective classes (War cleric, fighter, and lucky lover lucky star, respectively), while Yasath Lasl multiclasses into Lust cleric. Join us next week to see what happens as we begin to dig into the plot!
We continued to use the simplified seduction rules from last session, as Charmscale was reworking the rules in Erotic Adventures to give advantage and disadvantage rather than bonuses beyond those typical for 5th edition. I believe we’ll be introducing the reworked version next session.
Once our name was cleared, the guard allowed Zara to see the bodies so she could place obsidian on prayers upon them to enable their afterlife journey; Yasath Lasl, well-versed in funerary rites, aided her. Afterwards, we finally made it to a secondhand bookseller named David. After Aster buys the cheapest book she can find, David notices Yasath Lasl browsing his small selection of books on Dharian, history, culture, and religion. Noticing especially a prayerbook from the old ways still practiced by per father’s order of monks and a diary written by one of the ancient pharaohs (who Yasath Lasl notes fondly to have always been quite self-aggrandizing), the dwarfin cat-queer seduces David in the form of both discussing, critiquing, and purchasing the ten volumes for the cut-rate price of a gold each. He promises to send per word should anything of their like to come through his stall, an event he plans to be particularly on the lookout for.
I really do wish that had been recorded. As an Autistic, I am not always great at flirting in real life, and when I said near the end of the interaction, “That was a seduction attempt,” it was greeted by appreciative sighs from the other players. Oh, well.
A group of women at the entrance to the shop had been giggling to each other as they sent glances towards the short, exotic-looking duellist. One of them, by the name of Delphinia, approaches to invite the party to a, well, to a party >.< at the temple of Iduma, god of wanton lust. She misgenders Yasath Lasl in the process of the invitation, but Damon corrects her. He also offered to carry Yasath Lasl’s purchases in his pack.
The recording starts in media res (obviously) with everyone eating at a marketplace food stall as the sun sets. The wenches, serving-boys, and servers of many other genders besides who work this eatery bring food around at regular intervals, meat on poles, trays of vegetables and spreads, for the customers to take. Pretty nice for a gold piece each! Yasath Lasl eats hummus, baba ghanoush, and lamb, while Zara fills herself with grapes and lamb . . . and lots of both, so she can keep her strength up. Aster and Damon are dining as well, of course.
As a random aside, I once did a bunch of research trying to figure out how the average inhabitant of a D&D world would react to a gold piece being thrown their way. Things like wage comparisons or the prices of various items went into the research, of course, but I quickly came to the conclusion that pre-industrial feudal agrarian economies are far too different from our own to make a direct economic comparison, especially when you add in magic.
I came to the conclusion that an average person would react to a copper piece the way we might react to $2-5. This meal then, would have been an extravagant one ~ the equivalent of us dropping $200-500 on a meal. But then, so much of that kind of thing is up to the individual DM’s interpretation of things, and I’m not yet sure what JayCee’s views on D&D economy are.
Dark falls while everyone eats and when they walk down the street afterward, they make note of many closed stalls, speckled with the few that are still open. Tiny two-wheeled carriages pulled by various types of people clatter pass, the empty ones calling out naught but a couple pieces of silver will convince them to take a body wherever it should want across Nyssa. The heroes of our story choose not to take any of them, but walk and stop by an alchemist’s kiosk about a quarter mile from the stall that had fed them, very near the temple of Iduma. The stall is spooky looking, a weird little place of the sort that requires an internal dare to approach, as the heebie-jeebies give you pause.
Damon leads the approach to the kiosk, which is being haunted by an older woman in a black gown, presumably a human of some sort and quite definitely a crone. Maybe 70, with long silver hair, she’s not ugly or scary but rather intimidating as her icy blue eyes immediately catch Damon’s gaze. She looks at him with a smile and says, “I am Matilda. I am the purveyor of all that you see around me and these are things I have crafted and brewed myself. I am quite handy with herbs and various liquors and various elixirs. What can I do you for?”
Damon responds with a simple and efficient reply. “Standard potions of healing or engorgement.”
“Engorgement?” Aster inquires.
“Why not?” Damon asks with a shrug and a slow grin. “We’re going to a party.”
“OK.” Aster’s shrug is eloquent.
Matilda’s reply is at least as meaningful. “Ah, okay, that’s what you mean. . . .” She stands and, after a moment, exclaims, “Ah! I would expect from such someone who was as, well, actually, no! Someone as young as you actually needs that sort of assistance?”
“Stack the deck.” Damon’s efficiency of speech continues unabashed.
“As you wish…”
Damon interrupts her, discovering a stash of verbosity. “Stack the deck. You know what I mean. You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. I don’t even know these people, so there’s, if, if, if, if tools are at my disposal, there’s no point not making use of them, you know what I mean?”
“Understood,” Matilda acknowledges. “I do have four healing potions. Available. For purchase. They are—”
“Perfect—” Damon speaks over the merchant. . .
. . . and she responds in kind. “They are—”
“There’s four of us.”
“They are fifty gold apiece. But you will find them quite useful,” Matilda finally finishes.
“Uhhh, I—”
Aster jumps in. “If you try to bargain, maybe they’ll go lower than that?”
“First,” Damon says to Aster before turning back to Matilda, “how much is the potion of engorgement?”
“Um, that potion is . . . ,” she looks and says, “well, if you’re going to, if you’re going to buy the potions of healing, I will throw in that potion for free.”
Damon tries to bargain her into giving him two potions of healing and the engorgement for 50 gold. Matilda straightens to show a merchant’s bearing of shrewd steel.
She critted on her roll, while Damon . . . did not. One day, Pat will roll well!
A defeated Damon tells his compatriots, “OK, well, if anyone else wants to pony up their cash for a potion of healing, go right ahead. I’m gonna, um, I guess I’ll take one and then, um, how much for the dick juice? Five?”
“You’re a kind looking young man,” in Matilda’s steel are set two soft and indulgent sapphires of eyes, “and I’m sure you’re using it for fun and pleasure. I will just throw that in with a potion of healing.”
Yasath Lasl speaks to get Matilda’s attention, “Lovely Miss Matilda, might you be possessed of items that are less disposable than potions, perhaps for the same price? Something with a more continuing effect?”
“What was it that you need?” Matilda asks the pink-furred and -bearded dwarf. “I didn’t quite understand you.”
“I’m just curious about your stock, my dear.”
“Ah, most of it is things relating to healing. I do have some very expensive potions that are known to have very—allow you to read a mind or possibly become stronger, but those are, those are for, those are very expensive.”
“Do you keep anything that isn’t potions?”
“I do have random herbs and other things. I deal with a lot of different people coming in. If you need herbs to make into incense, if you want incense, if you need candles, I am the one you want, for I have those as well. Or stones, gems.”
“Any of them enchanted or possessed of their own innate magical properties?”
“For that, you would have to go find, probably go find one of the wizards. One of the Towers. Here, I have, I have things that I can make out of the herbs that I purchase or that are brought to me. And every once in a while I do find something of interest, but those don’t go cheap.”
“I am sure that you, with all of the wisdom that you have gained throughout the years, price everything just so, just perfectly appropriately.”
“Yes, it has to do with the cost of the materials to make and the risk involved in making them or if I need to hire someone to go find material components.”
“Risk involved? There’s risk?”
“Well, yes, if it is something that I need say I need a scale from a dragon or I need a tooth from a—”
Aster interjects with a simple, “Oh my!’
“Then obviously,” Matilda continues, “I’m going to have to pay lots of money to have those items retrieved.”
Yasath asks, “And do you fetch these yourself?”
“No,” Matilda answers. “That is why I have to pay others to do so.”
“Ah,” is Yasath Lasl’s only comment.
“Do you have a component list that you can . . . ,” Damon asks.
“At the moment I am well, but if at some point in the future you find yourself back in Nyssa, I would be happy to send you out on a mission. I do pay well for more exotic materials.”
“We shall be coming back this way soon,” Yasath Lasl informs her. “Do you have only the potions that will mend our wounds for about that price, or are there other things that you carry?”
“I can, I can sell you a, a healer’s kit at a little less of a cost. However, you would have to be knowledgeable at medicine in order for it to be used effectively.”
“That makes sense. I was asking if there were other potions you might sell for approximately 50 coin?”
“All the rest of them are pretty much mundane.” Matilda points to several items in turn. “One’s to stop a cough, another’s to pour over sore feet or perhaps a sore throat or a problem with the eyes, but nothing, but nothing, they are all medicinal, herbal medicinal, not particularly magical, such as potions of healing or other potions of that nature.”
“I understand. Thank you so much for enlightening me.”
“Very well, I wish, I bid you good evening.” She looks over at Damon. “Enjoy the other potion! Make sure you take the right one! Be quite a waste if you take the other one.”
Damon makes sure to note where he put what, then asks if she has bells.
Chat, including my real-life Mistress, had been flooding with reminders that we needed to purchase them for the exorcism.
Matilda looks among her stock and says, “I have ritual bells. I am a fully—I do have everything here that would be needed for metaphysical practices, so yes, I do have multiple bells. There are bells you could tie around your ankle, there are bells to ring during a ceremony . . . .”
“Ok,” Aster says. “I just need a cheap bell.”
“A cheap bell? Well, this one is—I don’t carry cheap products, as a point of pride. However, I do have inexpensive bells.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”
She pulls out a bell, not really well-shaped, looking like someone jammed a stick into a bell end. She gives it a quick and quiet ring to show that it works. “I will give this to you for two silver.”
“Alright!” Aster buys the bell. “I now have all of the stuff required to perform a, a, a exorcism of Ailuros. For all of the good that will do for me, probably.”
Matilda smiles and bids everyone a good evening, a safe evening, and a fun evening. She winks at Damon as she offers that last, and goes about putting stuff away on her shelves.
Damon turns to his companions once they had walked a short distance from Matilda’s kiosk. “Forwards to the party?”
An initial moment passes with only Aster’s “Uhhh” to break the silence.
Damon explains, “Or do we need to drop stuff off or, I dunno. . . . What do you guys think?”
“I would like to get my paddle,” Zara acknowledges, “and get changed.” Her desire seems to be shared amongst all and they begin to part, headed towards their individual residences.
Before they fully separate, however, Yasath Lasl turns to the half-orcish priest. “You said you wanted to prepare? Would you enjoy an attendant?”
“I can always use a slave, slave.” At Zara’s words, Yasath Lasl smiles and bows per head modestly. Not a trace of a blush is to be seen on per face.
Although everyone’s various apartments are in other parts of town, everyone makes sure to walk fast. They all meet back at the temple of Iduma, about an hour or so later. The temple has an interesting configuration, its front hemmed with pillars stretching up 20, 30 feet high, at least, to support the roof. The building does have walls, but they’re recessed. Between the pillars, a very sheer red-looking cloth is draped so that shadows of what’s going on inside can be seen without details or background. These cloths are tethered at the bottom with stakes so the wind doesn’t blow them up or down. Multiple shapes within the building can be seen, tantalizing passers-by with hints of what’s going on inside. There must be giant braziers inside because of the way the light is flickering against the back of these cloths.
The red, of course, is Iduma’s color, and so is everywhere. However, his lover Lupa’s color is purple, and so Yasath Lasl appears with purple flowers perched in per pink fur. Per cat ears can be seen poking out from among the bruise-colored blossoms on per head. Where possible, per has accented per garment with purple adornments of many kinds ~ purple lace and purple jewelry and purple makeup upon per eyes and lips.
Iduma is the narcissistic neutral good god of wanton (who grants the Lust domain), concerned only with his next sexual conquest. He is depicted all in red, very sensual and erotic, and is in a triad with Tacitus and Lupa. Where Iduma is outgoing, Tacitus is quite aloof and often stays out of the troubles of mortals. The neutral god of destruction and ruin (who grants the Death domain), his only concern is to ferry persons from one life to the next. Dressed all in blue like the color of corpse-flesh, he wanders through the realm with a staff made from pure obsidian. This is why obsidian is often given as gifts for the dying, like Zara and Yasath Lasl did at the watch station: so that Tacitus will assist them over the bridges of water to the gates of The Void.
Lupa, the chaotic neutral goddess of agony and desire, stands between her two lovers in many ways, including taking a bruise-like purple as her color and offering her clerics both of the domains offered by the other two. She is also the one whom Yasath Lasl has seen in the faces of every noble per has ever served.
There is no one standing outside. Music can be heard as shapes of people move about against the scarlet screens. Zara and Damon have left their weapons behind, while Yasath Lasl wears per rapier on per belt, very obviously peace-bonded, and Aster’s whip trails from hers. “Let’s go in!” Aster exhorts everyone excitedly.
Everyone goes up the steps, brushing the material aside to reveal a fascinating scene, almost eerie, that leaves everyone with the slightest nausea. Two large braziers flank the pillar where they enter, as do temple guards. Knights of Iduma, they wear nothing but red silks, tabards sashed at the center like a belt. In fact, they greatly resemble Lady Flaccus’s guards. At their sides, a gladius is tucked and ready. They use tower shields to keep themselves upright, and have galea perched upon their heads, a big brush of red feathers flowing with every slight movement. This crest matches the red that fills the entire celebration. The tiles of the floor form mosaics depicting various passions with various participants.
There’s another set of braziers across the pretty big room. The center looks like a pit with steps going all the way around it going down, and it’s filled with some sort of temple orgy. There are people sitting on the steps, audience to the activities, as bowls of fruit are passed around. As the foursome stares, some of the congregants crawl out of the orgy pit and sit down among that audience or come back up to rest or eat. Off to the sides, more shadowed areas hide the things going on inside behind sheer curtains.
As soon as we enter, we see Delphinia, the woman who invited us. Pretty much nude except for a loincloth that goes down to her knees, her body and extremities are incredibly jewelled. More jewels clasp her hair up before letting its long curls roll down her back, their quite dark beauty framing her flesh. Delphinia approaches Yasath as the cat-like dwarf pulls off per coat to reveal even more skin displayed by the sexy leather armor now no longer underneath that coat.
Aster, on the other hand, strips down fully. “I mean, some of the other people are naked,” she says. “Why not?” She doesn’t like wearing clothes very much. In the temple of Ailuros she never wore anything.
Delphinia snaps her fingers at this, and one of the temple guards puts his shield down to walk over and collect their clothes. He smiles, and with a snap of his leg moves to another area containing a bunch of tables. The garments find a home here, all in a group, and the guard returns to his position. Aster smiles as people standing around definitely give their nudity appreciative smiles.
“I am glad you made it,” Delphinia announces, “and especially the little one here.” At this, Yasath Lasl drops into quite a deep curtsy and remains there seemingly without effort, head bowed. “I have been telling my sisters about per and obviously, we’re all intrigued. But there are many delights to be had here. The orgy I would say is just the most mundane of them. Behind each of the curtained areas you will find various forms of pleasure, relaxation, and even healthcare, as you would put it. But please, wander around. Enjoy, and,” she points over to a little station to one side, where some of the priestesses are sitting and chatting, “please return there before the evening is over. We would love to enjoy you all.”
Without lifting per head, rising, or even showing a quivering of per muscles, Yasath Lasl replies, “I am glad I could make it. I knew it would bring you pleasure. I do enjoy pleasing.”
Delphinia nods and smiles and gives a wink and then walks back over to join the rest of the priestesses. Yasath remains there for a moment, still in that deep curtsey, waiting to be dismissed. With a cocked eyebrow, the swashbuckler eventually rises on per own volition. After it becomes clear that Delphinia was not planning to say anything.
Everything around is just noises of pleasure. The sounds and the music coming from somewhere unseen overwhelms the four. The air smells of candlewax and sex. Aster appreciatively comments, “Just like home.”
By now, Zara has let her robe fall open to show the piece of red silk across her body. She nods to the temple as a whole as she looks across it, seeing a bunch of places to explore, at least. Many curtained-off areas hug the wide walls that define the spacious sanctum. Some smiles in the party’s direction, some waving of hands to come over, and moans of aspiration trickle from the orgy pit. The priestesses of the temple in their station look back and forth at the group every once in a while, trying to see where we’re going to go. They seem to do so more out of interest than anything sinister.
Aster hurries to join the orgy. Reading the situation for what it is ~ fairly anonymous ~ Damon decides not to quaff his potion of engorgement before finally disrobing, and then, remembering his watch-station romance with Aster, follows her, while Zara goes to check out the alcoves. The priest of the Holy Warrior is looking to play. She starts with the booth nearest the back, not far from statues of Iduma enjoying his two lovers, Lupa and Tacitus. On the other side of the room, where the other two great braziers are burning, the area looks more like an altar space than the open layout of the rest of the temple. Yasath Lasl follows the right-handed Zara, slightly behind her on her left. “Mm-hmm,” is her only comment as she looks back with a faint smile.
The orgy pulls Aster and Damon in as soon as they step in. The sensation is less like they’re falling onto something hard and more like falling onto a large mass of writhing flesh. Aster repeats, with more gusto, “Just like home.” Aster is the belle of the ball. Many of the bodies in the pit seem to gravitate towards her, caught by the inexorable force of her beauty.
She’d made a Sex roll to see how well she performed and rolled quite well.
Zara and Yasath Lasl, walking towards the back, can hear all kinds of various noises coming from behind the curtains they pass. They look behind the curtain Zara chose, and discover something both sexy and interesting because it’s not a practice often seen, or at least, not in temples. Three low bathtubs hold noblewomen while temple slaves or maybe devotees in service to the temple surround them on raised platforms wearing only red loincloths, and short ones at that. A fourth tub sits, empty and inviting. The noblewomen revel in rubbing thick fluid into their skin.
This causes Zara to cock an eyebrow as her eyes run across the scene appreciatively. “Intriguing.” She takes a glance back at Yasath to see if the elegant little one is interested in taking part. Yasath Lasl’s eyes are alight with eager welcome to all of the activities they are taking in, including this, but Zara perceptively notes that per eyes occasionally flick towards the nearby altar.
Zara nods and quietly exits the alcove, turning to look at the statues. She extends two of her fingers wide beneath the rest of her hand in front of Iduma’s statue, and Yasath Lasl walks over to Iduma’s statue to stand, feet apart, arms behind back, elbows out, and head up. Zara smiles as the two spend a few meditative moments there. Upon the 6’4” half-orc indicates that the 3’11” dwarf may be released from per position, Yasath Lasl traces a hand along Zara’s wrist and hand as per walks toward the statue of Lupa.
Obligingly, Zara follows and watches as Yasath Lasl kneels in the most submissive position, legs fully tucked under, hardest to rise from, hardest to act from. A pink-furred hand with purple-painted nails reaches back to the rapier and slices its palm, bringing a significant wince to Yasath Lasl’s face. The Dharian places this blooded hand at the foot of Lupa’s statue. Zara gently brushes the top of Yasath Lasl’s head with her hand and indicates that per should rise. Yasath purrs and obeys.
After getting her rocks off a few times ~ and getting a few other people’s rocks off ~ Aster finally investigates the temple’s alcoves. Besides the alcove her friends had already visited, she finds one with some very sensual massage going on, and another reminiscent of a dungeon. In this one, there are racks, there are yokes, and there are tables and Dominant priestesses having visitors bound and gagged and . . . doing other things. Zara is here when Aster looks, knee-deep in whipping some poor young man. Very much enjoying it, too. Submissive noblemen are lining up to be used by her. She shows off to this audience of men willing to perform pretty much any task she puts to them. Yasath Lasl, on her orders, is preparing the men to be whipped and paddled, orders which per dispatches with a relish. The ones that need fluffing are obviously per favorites.
As one steps up to replace his predecessor before her paddle, Zara comments to Yasath Lasl, “Very good fluffer.”
“Yes,” Aster agrees.
The cat-like fencer’s reply is uncharacteristically simple and unadorned. “The fur helps.”
Other alcoves have tables with submissive men or women, perhaps servants in the house or maybe just people who have come to enjoy it, laying out in tables with various foods over them. Other people are eating the foods off of their body. In another, they’re doing needle play, or maybe acupuncture. And the last alcove is the champagne room, where very sexually mundane things are going on. Each alcove gets a wordless murmur from Aster to reflect her various reactions to these activities.
No ill intent can be seen, leaving our four heroes to wonder why they were invited so randomly, beyond Yasath Lasl being interesting. No one challenges them on anything they do and anything they ask for throughout the evening is given without question. Sometime in the third watch of the night, perhaps between the 8th and 9th hours, they have all finally had their fill of everything. Well, three have had their fill, and Aster wades into the orgy and grabs the last, unsated member of the party, grabbing a few other things while she’s at it and massaging them a little.
Despite my bachelor’s in Latin, I had to hit Wikipedia to translate the modern time of 2 am into Roman time.
The priestesses are still there, some of them having joined in the orgy, walked around, participated in other things. Damon having rejoined his associates thanks to Aster’s efforts, the four of them begin gathering their clothes and things and re-collecting themselves. Delphinia approaches them in their half-dressed state. She looms over them with a smile and asks, “So did you all have your fill of pleasure?”
Last to leave the party, first to respond, Damon replies, “Oh yes! My cup runneth over.”
“It reminded me so much of my home temple,” Aster adds.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it because, obviously, nothing’s for free.” Delphinia’s hostess smile transmogrifies into a devilish grin as a variety of sounds from the last few death throes of the party bounce from the temple walls. Yasath Lasl returns it in kind. “So . . . my ears have it that you may be venturing to Arcadia soon.”
The answer comes from Ailuros’s priestess. “That’s about right.”
“I want you to take a message to someone,” Delphinia says. “That’ll be your payment, and they may have a task for you to do while there.”
Aster agrees to this, immediately.
Iduma’s priestess smiles. “I am glad you’re being agreeable.”
Fucking outraged by this, Damon puffs himself up in an attempt to be intimidating. Delphinia looks startled, at least, at his attempt. She is quite obviously preparing herself to meet bombastic force with more bombasity, but that force quickly fades as Damon’s attempt come across as less a battering gale and more of a cool breeze. She says instead, “Oh, well, I apologize for some of the deception, but this is something that’s very simple. And once you reach the other side, you actually have the option of not taking the task. But the message is very important.”
“Fair enough. Okay,” Damon replies as he dissipates.
“You are to find a merchant in Arcadia by the name of Gorman. No middle name. No last name. Many people know him because he’s probably one of the most annoying people in the Merchant Guild there.”
Aster giggles while Zara says, in a mysterious tone which none present would be able to call either sarcastic or genuine, “Oh, great. Another annoying man for me to paddle.”
“He’s not,” Delphinia replies, “he’s not quite a man, but, uh, I guess he would like to think himself one. He is Cignan, and if you’re not, if you’re not familiar with the Cignans, then you’re in for quite the treat. But I simply want to have you give Gorman this.” She holds out a medallion, chipped and broken. Looking truly ancient, it reveals some writing in ancient Khazar on the back as it rotates from its chain beneath the priestess’s fist. The writing resembles Draconic, of course, and the language as well, but of course, the two are not the same. “Deliver this. Gorman will know this is from me and know what the message is, and, uh, and that’s it. He may offer you a task. You may accept it, you may not. And if you return here, you are more than welcome to one of our parties again. I am sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together, but it looks like you were having fun doing other things.”
Yasath Lasl appears to have a moment of internal debate before per simple response slips through a purring throat and still lips. “I was having great amounts of fun with someone who is quite elegant and skilled.”
Aster had loads of fun, yup, so she tells Delphinia exactly that. “I had loads of fun.”
“Loads of fun,” Delphinia replies from back in her grinning mouth.
“Loads and loads and loads, at that.”
Zara just massages her arm and smiles. Enough said.
Everyone leaves the temple together, but go back to their individual apartments, with about four hours until they have to be on the Raging Queen. All of them spend those hours sleeping.
Our four heroes meet at the docks soon after they each wake, to find their ship posted at the end of one of the dock’s piers, a wooden platform over whose edge the adventurers can see a swirling void. A little trippy, this view leaves them a little on the dizzy side. Despite being rather accustomed to the view, it’s still always kind of odd when you first look into the void. Years ago, before people got used to it, they would refer to “void madness” as a common affliction.
Aster gasps at the sight. “Wow!” But she doesn’t look down that much. Zara walks to the edge of the dock to send a small prayer into the nothingness.
Captain Longwhisper, Captain Tasman Longwhisper, the half-orcish captain of the Raging Queen, greets the group of four upon their entrance onto the ship. She is definitely more of a cultural half-orc than Zara is, which means that her style and her ways owe much to the Jade Empire. A huge war fan is embedded in her coiled braids of hair. She wears a kimono, and beneath it armor that seems to be made of folded pieces of highly lacquered wood; the armor features long greaves protecting her dark green skin. Welcoming everyone aboard, she says that she has been expecting them and that the ship is theirs to do with as they will. The trip should be a fairly quick one and anything aboard the ship is at our disposal, she informs them before storming off to yell at the ship-hands to prepare everything.
The adventuring party is shown to their cabin below deck. A common cabin, it has six hammocks, three stacked on top of each other on either side. The top bunk has a little rope ladder next to it that can be dropped down. As in the rest of the ship, magical devices give off light and a spellwrought fire pit relays heat when needed, though it’s a pretty comfortable temperature at the moment. The ship doesn’t seem to be carrying many other passengers. Rather, it’s carrying cargo. It make its way across the void for an uneventful day and a half.
Somewhere in that time, Aster hears ~ pointedly hears ~ steps coming up behind her as she is trying to seduce one of the off-duty ship peoples. She turns around to see Yasath Lasl crossing per arms thick with both muscle and fat, falling to the side to lean against the wall. “I was wondering if you had a moment,” the Dharian submissive says.
“Yeah,” says the human, “I think I got a moment.” She turns to her prey. “Come visit me in my cabin later, but right now I have to talk to my fellow adventurer.”
“Come stare into the void with me?” Yasath Lasl asks lightly.
“Okay.” Despite Yasath Lasl’s casual affect, a nervous tone colors Aster’s reply.
Yasath Lasl walks her upstairs to lean on the railing on the side of the deck, looking out into the nothingness. Landmasses off in the distance look like little pinpricks of earth in the void, extending to peaks above and below even to the depth of what would have been underwater if there was water. Speaking of water, it can be seen just pouring off the side of some of the floating landmasses into the void. It’s kind of beautiful in its own way.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Yasath Lasl asks.
Aster answers, “Quite lovely.”
“The land, hanging in nothingness, dragon-broken.” Yasath Lasl continues without turning per pink-circled head to face Aster, “I was wondering: you have said repeatedly that you wish to exorcise those whom we have been sent to meet.”
“You mean the, umm, ghosts or haunted whatevers?”
“I do.”
“I’m gonna give it a try. I mean . . . give it a try.”
“What, may I ask, in . . . . Your, your goddex is new to me. I have not yet met ~ is it Ailuros?”
“Ailuros.”
“Ailuros,” Yasath Lasl repeats, now with impeccable pronunciation. “I have not yet met Ailuros. I am familiar with the Dharian entities I was raised worshiping, the Dvergarin entities that my ancestors worshiped, and the face I see in the face of all who contract with me. A few others. What would an exorcism mean, to one who worships Ailuros?”
“Well, umm, generally you read from the . . . generally you hold the book in one hand and the bell in the other and then you masturbate with the dildo. Or someone masturbates you with the dildo, more like. And then you cum and the ghosts go away, but that only works for priests, generally. So I’m gonna try, but I don’t think it will work.”
“Go away?”
Aster answers simply, “Yeah.”
“What do you mean, go away?”
“Like, umm, I don’t know. The exorcism rite is very non-specific”
Now Yasath Lasl turns per head so that per golden, cat-slitted eyes bore into Aster’s. “Do you mean to destroy those we were sent to meet?”
“Of course not. I think they go to wherever ghosts are supposed to go after death?”
“In my experience, wherever a ghost is, is wherever they were supposed to go after death.”
“Okay.”
“Or else they would be somewhere else.”
“If you say so. Umm, yeah, Ailuros isn’t really much for detailed depictions of the afterlife. They’re more about, well, sex.”
“My people are,” says the dwarf whose ancestors journeyed from Khazad-Dum to Dhar. “And sex features quite prominently in that afterlife. My own first lover was a mummy. Umm,” per eyes drop from Aster’s as Yasath Lasl seems to collect per thoughts, “I understand the job we have been given to be to restore the rites and relationships between the living and the dead in this building. So that they can coexist as peacefully as my father’s people coexist with the dead of Zekhimat, the Valley of the Kings.” Yasath Lasl lifts per head up once more to face Aster firectly. “And I am worried that your actions seek instead oblivion for them.”
“Frankly, I wasn’t planning on performing the exorcism without, I don’t know, investigating first, at the very least.”
“Yes, but I wanna make it clear. I have been given to you as a student; you have not contracted with me.”
“Nope.”
“I am here to learn, and I am here to bring the living into right relationship with the dead, not to bring oblivion to those who ought to be respected and worshiped.”
“Okay. I mean, according to Ailuros’s faith,” Aster explains again, “the dead are supposed to move on to whatever comes next. Like I said: very nonspecific. So, the exorcism is supposed to help them do that in a very sensual fashion.”
“What do you know of my home?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“It is now ruled by five-scorpions-stung merchants who seized power from those I was raised among. The pharaohs: now dead, yet living. I was trained in their ancient ways. In those traditions, you can continue after death and, in fact, the pharaohs often did. And this is an honored state, a blessed state. It makes communication much easier with your ancestors. Lessons that can be learned. And it is the job, it is the work of my father’s people to make them relics that they may use in their unlives. To perform the rites and rituals that nourish them, that keep them in good relationship with the living, who grew from them after all. That is the distinction. If a spirit was to move on, it would have. If the spirit was to remain as an advisor and nourisher—”
“Do we even know if, if this is a spirit or something else going on?”
“That’s true. That’s true.” Yasath Lasl stands back on per heels, turning away from per view of the void to face Aster.
“I was planning on just like investigating and just seeing what happens, basically. I wanted the exorcism materials just kind of as a—”
“That’s true.”
“What-if type scenario,” Aster finishes.
Yasath Lasl leans toward per taller companion. “I am saying that I prefer that that what-if be taken off the table.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.” Yasath Lasl curtsies. “I’m in your debt.”
Aster has a hammock full of sailors all throughout that night. In fact, the cabin is quite full of them; Zara, for example, has the first mate in her power. Sailors are quite easy to seduce, after all. There’s really no turbulence on the void, generally. When there is, it’s definitely a moment for panic, but this trip is a rather smooth ride for the most part.
The city of Arcadia comes closer and closer in the distance, and more and more of its details can be seen. Striking . . . well, not fear, but it is definitely a thing out of place, is a large Khazar dragonship on one of the far docks as the Raging Queen pulls up. Full-blooded Imperial humans stand seven-foot or more tall upon the docks. They’re massive, taller than Zara, with dark skin and dark long hair. Dragon motifs cavort across the various clothing and armor they wear. There’s a whole contingent of them, milling up and down the docks even around the town itself. Captain Longwhisper looks really anxious as the ship docks. “My advice to you as you get ready to disembark is to just avoid them as much as you can. Just, if they say anything—”
Aster replies, “I was wondering how they were in bed, but . . . okay. That sounds like good advice, actually.”
“Yeah,” adds Damon, “fuck these guys.”
“Considering that they tend to like to torture lovers after the fact is, is, is,” she seems to be searching for a word large and specific enough to cover a feeling whose undertow is threatening to drown her, “and we’re not talking pleasurable torture. They will remove limbs if they’re not pleased, so just—”
“I rarely don’t please my lovers,” an indignant Aster insists. “Very rarely.”
“They like to box people,” Damon says to her.
“Box?” she asks.
Damon turns to Captain Longwhisper and tells her, “I would, I have every intention of staying as far as fuck away as possible from them.”
And that was the end of the session! JayCee informed us that we could level up at this point. Zara, Damon, and Aster all advance to the second level of their respective classes (War cleric, fighter, and lucky lover lucky star, respectively), while Yasath Lasl multiclasses into Lust cleric. Join us next week to see what happens as we begin to dig into the plot!
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Show Us Your Crits Episode 2 video on demand now posted!
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Wednesday, May 6, 2020
A letter from Yasath Lasl to per father
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Tuesday, May 5, 2020
The second episode of Show Us Your Crits! airs this Thursday!
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