[While on a rescue mission gone crazed, a holy warrior and a rogue fight bandits, demons, and the urge to rip each other's clothes off.]
The mission, rescuing a princess, could be going better.
Séa is an earnest paladin, honest and gullible. Tash is...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
On the heels of her words, moans of passion drifted in from the right. The light coos emanated from past the wire-leaf door, where purple shadows swallowed the parlor's yellow glow.
"Well, someone's enjoying themselves—" Tash's tones dried out to desert aridity. "—in a magically-sealed dungeon underneath an ominous fortress of doom."
Séa stifled a hearty laugh, but her wide grin was unstoppable. "Why should this enterprise cease being weird now?"
Ghomarck whispered, "We might as well be intimidating when we interrupt. Lady Séa, hold still. I will cast 'enlarge' upon you. Our goal, if you'll allow me to repeat myself, is to find the mechanism necessary to escape the way we came. Whoever we are about to meet might know."
Tash's face scrunched. "We don't have much to bargain with besides 'we won't kill you.'"
Séa snorted. "It does sound thuggish when you say it like that. Maybe they have chores they want done."
"Eh?" The rogue shuddered. "No. No chores. Parenthetically, the wire door's unlocked. Flimsy thing, anyway." Tash swung it open.
The paladin watched with wide eyes as the wizard transformed a pinch of powder into a spectral fan of light. Wizardry's always so pretty. Bathed in the multicolored radiance, a wholesome, fizzy feeling coursed through her limbs. Tash, Ghomarck, and the furniture shrunk significantly, and the ceiling lowered. Séa saluted the shortened wizard, then ducked her head to pass through the wire doorway.
The juicily organic smell intensified as Séa traversed a short tunnel. She straightened up in a second domed room. Magical sconces held purple flames that consumed nothing. Softly, the purple magefire illuminated royal furnishings dominated by a huge bed in the center of the room. Séa gained a brief impression of two entwined bodies writhing among tangled sheets.
"Excuse me," she said. "Could we ask—"
A shriek cut her off. One of the sweaty bodies on the bed, a fair-skinned woman, rolled away, taking a sheet with her. She retreated to the far wall and held the sheet against her naked body as she gaped at the intruders. The other half of the couple spun to a sitting position, hands splayed out as if about to launch into the air. After the initial reaction, this second individual composed himself into a rigid imitation of a relaxed posture. A lean-muscled male chest gleamed with sweat. Where dark fuzz gathered in his crotch a male shaft protruded, agleam with the sheen of borrowed fluids. A feminine flow of long, dark hair only accentuated the manliness of his hairless face. He spoke in a baritone, slightly fear-strained. "Peace, giantess."
Séa's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not threatening you. Who are you? And is that Chantelle of Mevia?"
The young woman against the far wall hugged her sheet tighter to herself and emitted a squeak. "Are you here to rescue me?"
Ghomarck wheezed from behind Séa's right elbow, "It is Princess Chantelle."
The male's eyebrows rose. "Amazing. Rescue so soon."
