Search Results
ID: fdN6f+HZ/qst/6272280#6272694
7/10/2025, 2:53:29 AM
>>6272693
“Aight,” you shout to your Regiment (and associates), “grab what you gotta! Go time!”
And so they do. Yeb-Uit and An-Yii go first, followed by your half-orc sword-students Xoldur and Murbal. You nod to the gyrfalcon fairies with whom you made a bargain, to reattune them to serve you and CZ in exchange for their aid against the Naked Emperor; the terms have changed but if you can only bring a few Fey through, it’s gonna be them. Your shapeshifting sister and her new hundun ‘friend’ bring up the rear, hanging back just long enough for the first few to explain the new additions. Only once they’re through do you spare the steppe sunrise a last look, and step through yourself.
…
Getting everyone situated is the first big challenge. You won’t be here long, but you’ll at least need a day or two to rest, regroup, debrief, and strategize. You are in charge of all that, of course—the thankless duties of a Boss Bitch are never-ending! The hundun is the biggest hurdle, since the dungeon’s ancient corridors were crafted for beings the size and shape of a goblin or a dwarf, not a deranged dumpling the size of a horse. With your orcs’ muscle and your excellent leadership, though, you’re eventually able to squeeze the malleable mutant into the chamber just before the forge room.
“Oh me oh my,” muses the Naked Emperor. “Whatever is this place? I sense such power…”
“Hands, feet, wings, tentacles, and whatever-the-fuck ELSE yer packin’ to yourself, and OFF of MY shit unless I say so,” you snarl, stepping between the hundun and the room containing the bio-spiritual ‘forge’. “Got it?”
“I must admit, the charm of being ‘bossed’ begins to wear thin…”
“H-hey!” Carazzi jumps in between the two of you, gently guiding you away. “Howzabout you go talk ta Ayla ‘bout our next steps, ‘n I get our guests, like… All settled in ‘n shit, huh? I’ll make sure they stay safe ‘n don’t fuck with nothin’… Gob’s honour!”
You snort at the old joke, delivered with a wink—the honour of a goblin, indeed! Coming from CZ, though, you’ll take that infamous oxymoron at face value. And she IS right: you’ve got a lot to discuss.
...
“Aight,” you shout to your Regiment (and associates), “grab what you gotta! Go time!”
And so they do. Yeb-Uit and An-Yii go first, followed by your half-orc sword-students Xoldur and Murbal. You nod to the gyrfalcon fairies with whom you made a bargain, to reattune them to serve you and CZ in exchange for their aid against the Naked Emperor; the terms have changed but if you can only bring a few Fey through, it’s gonna be them. Your shapeshifting sister and her new hundun ‘friend’ bring up the rear, hanging back just long enough for the first few to explain the new additions. Only once they’re through do you spare the steppe sunrise a last look, and step through yourself.
…
Getting everyone situated is the first big challenge. You won’t be here long, but you’ll at least need a day or two to rest, regroup, debrief, and strategize. You are in charge of all that, of course—the thankless duties of a Boss Bitch are never-ending! The hundun is the biggest hurdle, since the dungeon’s ancient corridors were crafted for beings the size and shape of a goblin or a dwarf, not a deranged dumpling the size of a horse. With your orcs’ muscle and your excellent leadership, though, you’re eventually able to squeeze the malleable mutant into the chamber just before the forge room.
“Oh me oh my,” muses the Naked Emperor. “Whatever is this place? I sense such power…”
“Hands, feet, wings, tentacles, and whatever-the-fuck ELSE yer packin’ to yourself, and OFF of MY shit unless I say so,” you snarl, stepping between the hundun and the room containing the bio-spiritual ‘forge’. “Got it?”
“I must admit, the charm of being ‘bossed’ begins to wear thin…”
“H-hey!” Carazzi jumps in between the two of you, gently guiding you away. “Howzabout you go talk ta Ayla ‘bout our next steps, ‘n I get our guests, like… All settled in ‘n shit, huh? I’ll make sure they stay safe ‘n don’t fuck with nothin’… Gob’s honour!”
You snort at the old joke, delivered with a wink—the honour of a goblin, indeed! Coming from CZ, though, you’ll take that infamous oxymoron at face value. And she IS right: you’ve got a lot to discuss.
...
Page 1