This choice: The adventurers celebrate at the local tavern • Go Back... The journey to Onyx City took the entire rest of the day, but despite their initial misgivings, the duo’s foray through the cave had turned out to be a resounding success. Not only did they manage to sell the statue for a significant sum (the local wizard seemed oddly keen on acquiring it), the troll also had a substantial bounty on its head, which they gladly collected from a rather unpleasant guard captain stationed in the tower dungeon. Now, with gold practically bursting from their pockets, they found a lively tavern at the center of town to relax in.
Maribel had decided to give up on trying to find yet another new set of armor, especially considering that not many items the smiths had to offer would fit her now. Instead, she managed to tie together scraps of her old clothing and armor into a makeshift bustier and loincloth which only barely covered her massive chest and rear. She was unconcerned about leaving little to the imagination however, as the new look suited her barbarian warrior frame well. Moreover, her popularity soared to new heights, particularly with the men at the tavern. They took turns buying her drinks which she downed in one gulp, so eagerly that the sudsy ales trickled down her chin and neck and into her bosom, to the delight of her fans. Loud singing followed, as Maribel quickly and easily became the life of the party, her massive and curvy frame producing a natural gravity into which the other patrons were gratefully pulled.
Meanwhile, Gresha had found a quiet corner of the tavern and observed her partner with curiosity bordering on concern. While the halfling wasn’t one to shy away from a celebration even at her old size, she never really liked the taste of ale (preferring sweets instead) and often had a tolerance limit for the obnoxious behavior that often took place at taverns. Yet now, here she was: beating men at arm wrestling—sometimes two at the same time, tossing the more handsy drunks across the room to the roar of their compatriots, and now skipping mugs and drinking straight from the keg, lifting it with ease off the bar and guzzling with gusto. Every time the owner would start to protest, she’d toss him another handful of coin and he would go back to his business for a few minutes longer.
“Seems like more than her size has changed,” the orc surmised, not particularly alarmed, but definitely more suspicious.
“Greshie, there you are!” Maribel sauntered over and joined her at the table, arms around two fairly plastered but giddy men. “Come join in on the fun, we were just about to have another round! Oh, and meet a couple of new friends! This one’s Dirk, and this one’s…uh, I don’t think I actually know his name yet. But they’re such GREAT blokes, aren’t you boys?” She gave each an affectionate squeeze, pushing their faces closer against her boobs. Their grins widened despite being nearly crushed within her grip.
Gresha only nodded in response, noting that despite the large volume of ale Maribel had consumed, her lack of slurred speech or teetering balance suggested she amazingly wasn’t particularly drunk yet—perhaps only happily buzzed. The potion apparently had boosted her constitution considerably, yet another curious side effect.
Having had enough ruckus for the night, Gresha rose from her seat to announce she was turning in for the night, but her attention was drawn toward a man who had appeared next to her. Unlike the rough-and-tumble crowd that had been present thus far, he was far better dressed and much more composed, clearly not looking like he was here for the atmosphere.
“Excuse me,” he politely addressed both Gresha and Maribel, raising his voice only enough to be heard over the bustle around them. “I was wondering if you two had a moment to speak privately? I represent a client who has need of your expertise and would like to offer a job he has for you.”
Glancing at each other with a hint of curiosity, both women nodded and proceeded to follow the man upstairs to one of the rooms. There he took a seat at a candlelit table and gestured for the other two to do the same.
“My name is Aldis,” he began, flashing a signet ring on his finger engraved with the crest of a hawk’s head. “I represent the Duke of Bradshire, Halloran III. Recently, His Eminence has come to be aware of some troubling activity on the borders of his lands. A group of notorious bandits have established a camp and have been raiding supply caravans bound for towns throughout the region.”
Aldis paused and took a moment to gaze at the two women, especially Maribel, whose form loomed dramatically over the table and nearly filled the dimly lit room. “Word has spread quickly of your exploits. Your defeat of the infamous Strog the Brutal was most impressive. I see you carry trophies of your victory, and rightfully so.” He nodded approvingly at Strog’s twin axes that Maribel now had strapped to her hips. “Rumors have also surfaced about an elf bandit that was recently apprehended by local authorities on the road south of Durmrin, though the rest of her companions were not so lucky. While there was no direct evidence linking you to this…situation, I am willing to extend you the credit all the same.”
Gresha remained silent, content with leaving Aldis to his speculations, but Maribel let out a hearty chuckle. “Ha! I guess that ‘Queen of the Forest’ got what was coming to her. Yeah, that was us. Not much of a challenge though.”
Gresha raised an eyebrow at that, but Aldis only nodded and smiled. “It is these noteworthy feats that prove you to be the perfect persons for this task. The Duke has asked the bandits at his border be eliminated by any means necessary. As a gesture of good faith, he had authorized me to provide a substantial portion if the payment up front.”
Aldis produced a significantly stout coin bag from his belt and set it on the table. Maribel was grinning ear to ear and opened her mouth to accept, but Gresha was quicker. “No,” she stated flatly. “We’re not mercenaries.”
Maribel shot her partner a disapproving glare. Instead of frowning in disappointment, Aldis leaned forward, already willing to pursue the matter further. “Your recent endeavors seem to tell a different story, but rest assured, this is a special task that was not meant for any simple mercenary. Your final payment will reflect that fact quite clearly.”
“Will you excuse us for just a bit?” Maribel asked, rising from her chair and taking a subtle hold of Gresha’s arm. Though the gesture was clear in its intent, the dormant strength the orc felt within that grip still caused her to slightly tense. Following Aldis’ courteous nod, she walked with the larger woman out into the empty hallway.
“What are you doing!?” Maribel hissed, lowering her head until it was level with Gresha’s. “Didn’t you see the size of that coin purse? And that’s only part of the payment! With what we already pulled in the last couple of days, this could set us up for a long time!”
“Not about the money,” Gresha shook her head. “Killing is messy. Makes more enemies, leads to less freedom. My clan have a saying: don’t trust humans with nice clothes and nicer words.”
Maribel straightened up to her full height, thrusting her deep chest outward to accentuate her intimidating frame “Greshie, believe me…we won’t need to worry about enemies, or even humans in nice clothes, ever again. Like it or not, jobs like this are exactly what I’m—what we’re built for. When have we ever passed up such a big opportunity?”
Gresha took a few moments to ponder, glancing up from the corner of her eye at her humongous halfling companion. Maribel had always been eager for adventure, but this…unmitigated ambition that now seemed to ooze from her demeanor was something different. Still, she couldn’t really argue with her points. After what they had managed to accomplish, it didn’t seem abnormal that they now had the attention of more affluent members of this realm.
Reluctantly, Gresha sighed and nodded, allowing Maribel’s giddy grin to return as they stepped back inside the room to accept Aldis’ offer. Unlike their well-dressed liaison or his noble employer, neither of them had any inkling what chain of events they would set in motion…  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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