Epic Fantasy Story
 

I have been writing a medieval fantasy story on and off for years. It involves humans, elves, ENF, spanking, stripping, wedgies, wet & messy, and some f/f sex. It follows a duchess and some elves whose kingdom has fallen to the neighboring one, as they attempt to escape and raise an army to liberate their people and take back what is theirs. Much of the content is original, although placenames and basic geographical layout mostly resembles the Mystara campaign. If males exist in this world (their existence is neither confirmed nor denied), they play no part in this story, where female mages, rogues, warriors, politicians, clerics, and peasants vie for power, or merely survival. The characters have strong personalities: heroic, cowardly, greedy, etc. and it is through their actions the ENF, etc. content comes about.

The stories are written, but will require some edits to post, so it won't be immediate. Illustrations may also follow. Before I begin, is anyone interested in reading this?

I love fantasy, and elves especially. I'm extremely excited for this and I'd love to beta read them if you want.

Can't wait for them to be posted!

By all means, post it here.

OK, I had to write a bunch of exposition, so it doesn't start in as fast as one might hope. We need to tell you who everyone is and get the conflict going.

PART 1--WORDS AND WIND

It was a warm day in Kerameikos as Duchess Chorinna held court in the shade of the great hall. The lavish dress laced up around her modest bust was a bit too warm where it clung tightly to her full hips and somewhat pudgy belly, but its red and gold cloth matched her throne, and she had chosen image over comfort today. Her advisors and courtiers had been offering counsel and making requests for the better part of the morning, and she had made gracious decisions, as was her custom. Lunch had been served, and the tables before her court were covered with more cakes, pies, and pastries, than any court could reasonably hope to consume in a sitting. But today, Chorinna had seemed slightly distracted. It wasn’t the presence of the delegation from the Magocracy of Glantri; they had been present in court for nearly a month now, and their interests seemed to be confined to asking for small gestures that the Duchess had granted easily. A lowered tariff here, trade access there; these matters were troublingly small to require the presence of Adrienne, the Archmaga’s foreign minister, and her two attendants. They had to be up to something. It was the other delegation that had Duchess Chorinna distracted. The elves had yet to arrive.

Alfheim and Glantri both shared borders with Kerameikos as well as each other, but, of late, there had been an unusual amount of tension between Archmaga Karana and Imathia, Queen of Alfheim. The Duchess was wary lest her court become a diplomatic battlefield for her neighbors to play out their machinations against one another.

As she settled a particularly simple dispute between two landowners, her eyes were regarding the Glantrian delegation. Considering they were sent to represent the Magocracy, at least one of them msut be a mage. She hadn’t seen them perform any spells in the weeks since they’d arrived--after all, magic was forbidden in her throne room--but it was unlikely that a high level delegate of the Archamaga’s court wotuld lack magic of her own. Adrienne, clad in a purple dress befitting someone of high station, was heavy-set, similar to Chorinna’s own build, but with larger breasts. One of her attendants was on the thin side, with black hair and browner skin, the other pale and considerably heavier than her mistress or the duchess. Adrienne sat quietly, it was clear from her deep-set eyes that she was clever and observant, a force to be reckoned with in diplomacy, hence her position. Her attendants, on the other hand, seemed bored and impatient. Chorinna sensed that they were waiting for something, perhaps the same thing she was. As the courtiers and advisors continued business as usual, unknowing, she had the sense something momentous was about to happen.

Outside, on the road to the keep, four elves walked, three in armor, one in the robes of a mage. Three of them were lithe, typical of elvenkind, but one of the armored ones was a bit fuller-figured, even by human standards. She also bore unusual makeup, her face painted in a pattern that showed her status as one of the Sylvanaria, those elves chosen to tend to and guard the sacred trees of their people. This, her armor, and the deference with which the other elves addressed her were all that would give away her status as a keeper of such sacred duty. For her bearing was light-hearted, jovial, and at times even frivolous. Maelyrra could be deadly serious when necessary; but no casual observer seeing her saunter down the road that day would have ever guessed that.

“Look, Elorien, just keep it out of sight,” she said to her comrade in the mage robes, “don’t bring it out unless you need to use it.” The robed elf frowned. “The amulet of Elathriel is not something you simply keep hidden. It is one of the most powerful artifacts known to our people. If we are subjected to search—“ “So it’s settled. You and Himnu will wait outside, Laurana and I will go in. That way, they may search us, but not you. If something goes foul, use the amulet.” “The amulet works only once every five turn-of-seasons. It is not to be used over a trivial—“ “This matter is not trivial,” Laurana interrupted, “Imathia thinks that it is important. That’s why she sent you—and the amulet.” “Shhh, stop now,” the dark-haired warrior warned, “we’re getting near to the guardhouse.”

As they approached the gate, the guards stationed there saluted as two of the tallest human women these elves had ever seen stepped forward, resplendent in shining platemail. They must have been nearly six feet tall. The one with her dark hair in braids spoke first. “Keeper Maelyrra? I am Giuliana, captain of the Duchess’ guards. I have been sent to escort you and your companions to the Great Hall.” “It is an honor, Giuliana.” Maelyrra offered graciously, as the guards turned around and led the way.

Chorinna was nearly lost in her thoughts about what the Glantrian delegation might really be there for when the doors swung open. Giuliana stepped in, saluted, and announced the elven delegation, “Maelyrra and Laurana of Alfheim, Your Grace!”

The elves stepped into the room proudly, but carefully, as if trying to inch their way through a wolf den without showing the slightest sign of weakness. They stepped forward and bowed to the duchess. Chorinna acknowledged them first with a nod, then spoke, choosing her words carefully. “What brings such illustrious company from nearby Alfheim?” Maelyrra opened her mouth as if to speak, then noticed Adrienne, who was smiling slyly at her. She seemed to lose her words for a moment, then turned her attention back onto the Duchess, and spoke.

“Your Grace, we have come to bring before you a pressing matter. Our neighbors and yours, in Glantri have, *buah* excuse me, been sending sp *burp* sorry, spies and scouts over our” The sudden urge she felt to belch seemed unnatural. This was unseemly, for a diplomat, for an elf of her stature, of her beauty…it was almost as if… “our Western border…” She looked back at Adrienne’s smile. Laurana saw it, too. Her hand, at her side, hidden to most eyes by her dress, making a small gesture, a cantrip.

Chorinna seemed puzzled, and shot a warning glance at her laughing courtiers. “Please, continue,” she encouraged. “We think *burp* that they, that the Arch- *toot* Archmaga plans to start *abup*” Laurana could handle this no more. They had been given an important message to relay about Glantri, and the Glantrian delegate was using magic to make a laughing stock out of Maelyrra as she spoke, rendering their diplomacy ineffective. Laurana thought to expose her methods, but no one would believe her. The warrior-elf was no mage, but she knew a small counter-spell, and began to mutter it under her breath. She had to protect Maelyrra, and make sure the Duchess took their message seriously.

Maelyrra continued, now less encumbered by the hostile magic as her friend’s counterspell started to take effect. “We believe the archmaga is scouting our borders because she plans to—“ It was at that very moment that Adrienne chose to stand up, pointing at Laurana. “Magic!” she shouted, “she’s using magic. You’ve all seen it. Arrest these elves.”

Laurana dropped the spell and looked back at Adrienne, shocked, as the guards who had escorted her in approached her. “But I only—“ “Lay down your weapons,” Giuliana demanded, “we only let you keep them at your side as a courtesy.” “Surely, Giuliana,” Chorinna started, “these elves intended me no harm.” “We are sworn to protect you, your Grace; magic has been forbidden in this throne room since the reign of Alexia VI.”

Maelyrra looked at Adrienne, still smiling back, “They have broken the law, away with them!” Shouted the Glantrian delegate. “Away with them!” the courtiers chanted in imitation. “Your Grace,” the elf interjected, “won’t you hear our case defense?” Chorinna nodded, over the nearly universal objections of her advisors and courtiers. Guards brought in a small pillory on a wheeled platform, and then another. Carved on them were runes of protection. “Antimagic stocks, your Grace, for your own protection, if you plan on listening to these elven witches.” Chorinna assented reluctantly as the elves were bent over into the contraptions. Meanwhile, Adrienne sat still, while the courtiers mobbed the restrained elves, slapping them about the flanks. Maelyrra’s wider-than-the-usual-elven backside was the focus of more than a few playful slaps. The contortions of her face at the front showed that playful or not, those smacks still stung. The Glantrian attendants who had looked so bored before had left their seats, each taking a small cake with them. Just as the pilloried elves were about to issue their defense, they were about to push the cakes into their helpless faces. But then, everything suddenly stopped.

Again, the door creaked open, but this time Elorien and Himnu walked into the room, staring in wonder at the how its inhabitants were frozen in time. “This is amazing! How long will this effect last?” gushed the armored warrior. “Not long, we need to work fast.” “Maelyrra told us only to use the amulet if things go afoul,” Himnu added. Elorien pointed at their comrades, bent over in the stocks, the skirts of their armor lying on the floor as courtiers poked and slapped at their backsides, two Glantrians about to smash cake in their faces. “I’d say this qualifies.” Approaching the stocks, they moved their companions into the chairs vacated by the Glantrian delegates. Himnu moved the two tall guards one at a time to the stocks, and put them in the devices in lieu of their elven compatriots. Meanwhile, Elorien had something special in mind. Approaching Adrienne, she produced a small knife, and cut the dress from her, leaving her in her smallclothes. She had an easier time undressing the other two Glantrians, who were standing up. After throwing the remains of their clothes into the fireplace, she moves Anwen, the thinner Glantrian delegate, who was in the process of rubbing a cake in Maelyrra’s face, so that she is about to the same to Adrienne, and the larger Glantrian, Emelyn, to the Duchess. Seeing that final move, Himnu objected, “Elorien, no! We need her on our side!” But it was too late to change anything. Blinding flashes of light bathed the room. “It’s ending,” Elorien screamed, “we have to get out of here!” In a nick of time, the elves closed the doors behind them and made it to the courtyard just as time resumed.

Back in the great hall, chaos ensued. First, Adrienne screamed as Anwen rubbed cake into her face, then the Duchess was heard sputtering and cursing as a surprised Emelyn gleefully rubbed icing on her face, until she found out that she was no longer facing an elf in the stocks. Then, the Glantrians looked down and, realizing they were half nude, attempted to cover themselves. Their shrieks of humiliation were drowned out by the laughter of the other courtiers and dignitaries in the hall, which ended abruptly as they noticed the cake-faced duchess rising to her feet. “Sieze them!” she screamed to her guards, and all eyes turned to the stocks, where her guards were now restrained.

Adrienne jumped up, covering herself with her arms as best she could. “They did it!” she screamed, pointing at Maelyrra and Laurana, seated on either side of her, still fully armored. “Those Elven witches again.”

Rain, the court mage, who usually kept silent except on matters mystic, approached the throne and bowed to the duchess, trying not to smirk at the Glantrians attempting to cover themselves. “With all respect, your Grace, this looks to be the work of a chronomancer.”

A gasp spread over the hall. “But chronomancers were driven from this plane in the second age. Surely it cannot be…”

Maelyrra roses from her seat. She knew that Elorien must have used the amulet, but sensed a diplomatic advantage. “Yes, Alfheim has summoned a chronomancer.” “But such a being cannot be controlled. They could destroy time as we know it,” Rain objected, credulously. “Do you wish another such display to the contrary?” Maelyrra bluffed. “War with Alfheim is an undertaking to be avoided, contrary to what these three naked cows would coax you into believing.”

Emelyn, Anwen, and Adrienne were seething, covering themselves and looking for something to help clothe them. The duchess wiped icing from her face slowly, licking her finger, as she considered the point.

“You should run such charlatans out of town, their manipulations disgrace your sovereignty.” Maelyrra continued.

Here are a few preliminary images: Duchess Chorinna, the Glantrian delegates (Anwen, Adrienne, Emelyn), and the elves: Laurana (left) and Maelyrra (right) also the elves when Adrienne's spell is causing them concern. More to follow this story gets far crazier and ENF-ier soon.

Here are some more images. Caught up enough I guess I'll add more text before we continue. It's about to get more intense.

At this point, Adrienne stood to oppose Maelyrra, but, realizing the ridiculousness of a diplomatic entourage trying to argue in only their underpants, she grabbed a tablecloth with which to cover up. As she removed the cloth from the table, various messy foodstuffs that were sitting on the table wound up on the clothing of the seated courtiers. As Adrienne wrapped the cloth around herself, and turned away to address the issue, she was oblivious to the angry women standing up behind her, arming themselves with more pastries and cakes. “Certainly you won’t let such an affront to the archmaga stand! The Duchy can stand together with us against these elves who have no respect for human powers or their diplomacy!”

Maelyrra, seemingly unfazed walked right up to her, and grabbed one corner of the tablecloth. “You’ve addressed the duchess. Lets ask the rest of the court, now, shall we?!” With a flourish, she pulled the tablecloth right off of Adrienne, causing her to spin around. She was surprised to wind up face to face with a group of angry courtiers, who immediately attacked her and her entourage with the foodstuffs. It wasn’t just the mess; they were throwing hard enough that the hits would sting naked skin. Adrienne, Anwen and Emelyn first try to dodge or use their hands to protect themselves, but Adrienne tires of this and starts throwing food back. In moments, the banquet hall became a massive food fight, where nobles, diplomats, and servers tossed all varieties of sweet treats at each other. The only people not to actively participate were the two guards, stuck in the stocks as they were. But that didn’t make the participants spare them.

Maelyrra and Laurana saw that something needed to be done, and freed the guards from the stocks. In moments, the armored women had strongarmed Adrienne and Anwen into the same stocks. Emelyn tried in vain to free them, but the guards secured her to a column with rope.

When the situation had calmed down, the Duchess ordered silence. Maelyrra explained how Adrienne had been using a cantrip on her, and explained the concern of the elven delegation that the Glantrians had intended to utilize their magic to influence the Duchess’ advisors into war with Alfheim.

The duchess wiped the cake from her face thoughtfully, tasting some of the icing on her finger, then declared: “I could hold you mages in my prisons indefinitely, or charge your archmaga a ransom; but I find it more fitting that you return to her and tell her that I am no puppet of Glantri, and my court is not to be trifled with such.” She pointed to Emelyn. “You will remain in my dungeon as collateral until such time your companions return with a reply from Glantri. You others shall be escorted to our border in the state of dress you are in, in the stocks, and released from them in such a state once you leave my lands. I will send heralds before you to announce once every half mile the reason for your punishment. May your trip home be as pleasant as you deserve.”

Ah, panties too small to contain a healthy triangle of pubic hair... What a thing of beauty! :D

Thanks, Myds!

Thanks for the feedback. I was concerned no one was interested.

It's going to get more intense in time. Lots of new characters will be introduced. The principals here are the Elves, the Duchess, Adrienne the Glantrian foreign minister, and Anwen, the thinner of her attendants. Aside from place-names, I mostly avoided ripping off franchises, but there's one famous female pirate that might make an appearance. All in time.

I'll likely update this soon; I'd like to make images with regard to the tablecloth being stripped off before things get even more interesting for two out of three Glantrians.

A few more images from that last part, before we move on.

Having suffered all nature of indignity from amused and vindictive townsfolk and peasants along the route to the border with Glantri, Adrienne and Anwen are dropped off at the crossing where there was little in sight but a long road, and a humble farm. “We need to find some clothes,” Adrienne sighed, “if we return like this Archmaga Karana will be livid.” “And we need to clean up!” added Anwen. “Let’s clean up at that well.”

After a few minutes, the women had cleaned up, and, although slightly cold, were pleased at least to be clean of the food thrown at them in the court of Kerameikos, and the smell of eggs and overripe vegetables thrown by peasants as the wagon carrying them in the stocks drove through towns and fields to get to the border. For a moment, they nearly relaxed. They sat down with their backs to the well, and rested for a few moments. “We can try that farmhouse for clothes. Maybe they’ll give us something,” Anwen suggested. “No one is giving two nude women who arrived in stocks in a wagon anything. We’ll have to steal some clothes.” “But we’re high-ranking officials of their government.” “Even if they somehow believed us, that isn’t something we should be telling country folk. Not all of them like the Magocracy.” “If you say so, Adrienne.” “I do, now let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Both sat and watched the house for a few minutes, then Anwen got close enough to peek in the windows. “I think it’s clear.” “Let’s go,” Adrienne responded, walking up to the door. “Locked.” “What kind of country folks lock their doors?” Adrienne frowned, “The kind that don’t trust their government…or mages. Do you know how to pick locks?” Adrienne rattled the door and used her shoulder to try to force it. She made no headway, but a good deal of noise.

“Back away from our house!” came a voice behind them. Adrienne turned to see two peasant girls standing behind her. She couldn’t believe their luck. One was heavy-set, one more svelte. Their clothes would fit perfectly. “I don’t know what you’re doin here,” the heavier peasant continued, “but you’d best be on your way.” “I’ve heard of something called a cat burglar, Maisie” laughed the svelte peasant, pointing at the two naked women, “but these are the first ‘bare’ burglars I’ve ever heard of.” Adrienne approached the peasants slowly, her hands up in what seemed to be a gesture of harmlessness. Anwen, however, spoke up, “Do you have some clothes we could—“ But Adrienne was already weaving a spell. The peasants strained to fight her influence as her magic entered their heads and dominated their will. In only a few moments, they were willingly removing their own clothes and handing them over. The clothes fir perfectly, as Adrienne predicted, and it was the peasants who were now covering their nudity.

“Funny,” Anwen mused, “I was taught that magic couldn’t make you do anything you wouldn’t want to do.” “That’s not entirely true,” Adrienne responded, “it’s very difficult to make someone do something they wouldn’t normally, and it only lasts a short time. There are a few mages out there who specialize in it.” No sooner had she spoken the words than the two peasant girls started to come out of their trance. Adrienne tried to cast a spell, but it fizzled, as the difficult domination spell had used all her magical power for the time being. They turned to run, but the farm girls, more accustomed to exercise, were able to catch and subdue them with ease.

Just as fast as they had put the clothes on, the peasants stripped them again. Adrienne tried to struggle, but the much stronger Masie wrestled her into submission. She sat on a fence and pulled the defeated mage onto her lap. “This is for working your fancy magics on us,” Maisie declared as she started slapping the abundant backside in front of her. The other farmgirl quickly decided that she should follow suit with Anwen. Adrienne was already sobbing as Anwen’s spanking began. When the farmgirls decided that their charges were appropriately red-bottomed, they tossed them over the fence, face-first.

Adrienne hadn’t noticed the pigpen, as most of her attention had been on her throbbing backside up until now. But as she lifted her face from the mud, or what she hoped was mud, she heard the pigs squealing in indignation at the two pink-bottomed ladies that were sharing their stye.

A few more from that section:

And yet a couple more. Not certain when the next part will come, but we're still in Chapter 1 of a 12+ chapter story. If these characters aren't to your liking, we're going to meet many others. Did these images some time ago, so there are a few errors in them I would have caught more recently. Like a weird floating mass of hair, or not enough light reflecting from the whites of the eyes, but, oh, well.

“Get your filthy hog asses back here,” the slimmer of the peasants demanded. Adrienne tried her magic again, but to no avail. “Oooh, more magic,” said Maisie with a sarcastic tone, “do you think these two are looking for more spanking, Annabella? You’d think they were sore enough.” The thinner peasant laughed as she picked up her skirt and pulled it back over her hips, “if they try anything like that again, they’re going to wish that’s all that happened to them.” “I heard mages need their hands for casting; let’s tie ‘em like the hogs they are.”

Maisie reached over the fence and grabbed Adrienne, who knew better than to resist at this point. She tied her wrists, and then did the same to Anwen, leaving their feet unbound, and not bothering to clothe or wash them. “I was going to take one of the pigs to sell at the market today. I somehow think taking you will land me more gold, not to mention it will be far more entertaining.”

Once Maisie and Annabella had dressed, they climbed onto their farm wagon and tied a rope from it to the wrists of the two bound women. “Uh-uh,” Annabella told Anwen as she tried to climb into the wagon, “that’s for us, and our sheep’s milk. You two will walk.”

Stumbling behind the oxcart for what seemed like hours to the taunts of their captors and the jeers of passersby, they arrived at a small village market. It wasn’t much, just a slightly less muddy circle without a ramshackle cottage like the ones that surrounded the space. What it lacked in charm, it made up for in the crowd and level of activity going on. Once again, the Glantrians were lead to the stocks, where people slapped their flanks and backsides and tossed rotten eggs and vegetables. Adrienne seemed shut off after the journey, she hadn’t talked for the last hour. But Anwen kept calling out, “Do you know who we are? You’ll be punished for this! We belong to the Archmaga’s court!”

“And I’m the Empress of Kara-Tur!” laughed one tavern maid as she squeezed the water out of a particularly nasty cleaning rag over Anwen’s hair. The villagers did no harm to their prisoners, except for the stinging smacks to their already sore backside, but after a while, traffic in the market died down. It picked up again after midnight, as the inebriated villagers left the tavern. But then, it was mercifully quiet. Adrienne had been speaking again, if only to tell Anwen to stop trying to talk their way out of this, as it only seemed to make things worse. “I could almost sleep if my wrists and neck weren’t chaffing.” “And my butt….owwwww” Anwen responded. Shortly after sunrise, one of the villagers, a kind-seeming older woman came and unlocked the stocks. “Leave this town, don’t come back,” she urged them. “What about clothes?” Adrienne asked. The woman walked over to her worn-out mule, from which she had recently unloaded basksets of fish, and peeled the smelly, threadbare horse-blanket from its back. “It’s all we can spare,” she answered as Adrienne’s expression seemed poised to object. “Let’s go,” said Anwen, wrapping the blanket over their shoulders the best she could. Adrienne wanted to stop to get her bearings, but the elderly woman interjected, “Go now! Not everyone is as willing to give up the best entertainment this village has seen in a long time. Go.”

It would be simplistic to say that the two suffered much trial and tribulation on their way back to the capital. They encountered bandits, bees, thistles, and just about every other hardship of the road. But in half a week’s time, they arrived at the castle’s postern gate. Adrienne had decided not to risk the journey through the entire capital city clad in nothing but a smelly horse blanket.

Archmaga Karana would normally have made her underlings wait some time for an audience. But this time, her servants met them at the door, washed them and dressed them for court, and admitted them immediately. As they bowed, the Archmaga waved her hand and two small stools slid into them, landing them seated below her throne. No one was entirely certain of the Archmaga's age. She had been reigning for decades now, and still seemed to be in her thirties. Just as her appearance concealed her age, her stature belied her power. She was of average height and slightly stockier than average in build. Her olive skin contrasted with her curly auburn hair. Some might say she was beautiful, others might disagree, although the latter knew the importance of keeping suchr thoughts to themselves. Throughout Glantri, she was known as an iron-fisted ruler with a severe temper. Some of the mages might have balked at her draconian leadership, if they weren't so afraid of her temper. She stared long and hard at the two diplomats seated before her before she deigned to speak. “Word of your humiliating failure has already reached me through my spies in Kerameikos. I frown upon failure.” “I’m sorry your supreme maj…” started Adrienne. “Shut up. No apology or excuse will compensate me for the damage you have done to our cause. You will return, secure your incarcerated companion’s freedom, and continue to serve me as my representatives in Kerameikos.”

Anwen protested, “But, your Supreme Majesty, we are mocked and disgraced in Kerameikos…surely you wouldn’t subject us to-“ “Surely you would want more dignified representation than the current state of affairs there allows us,” interrupted Adrienne.

“I have a plan,” said Karana, “And yes, it pleases me that you reap the harvest of your failure. Wait there for orders from my secret operatives.”

“Why can’t your operatives just free Emelyn instead of us?” asked Anwen.

“Fool! Haven’t you been listening? And yes, I have one tool that will help with the job, but you must keep it hidden and use it only under orders, or in the most dire emergency, for it could ruin my plan.” She waved her hand and two servants approached with a singularly odd-looking wand on a pillow. “This is the Wand of Num the Mad. I want you to spend a day in the library and laboratory studying its history and powers. Return to me tomorrow, and I will test you. If you are prepared, you can return to Kerameikos on the next morrow. If you are found wanting, you will face my wrath.”

A few pictures: The foreign minister and her attendant's meeting with the Archmaga, in a quiet upstairs room of her castle tower. She had ordered her servants to humble them by dressing them in more modest clothing than their station typically allows, hence the simple blue tunics. These outfits are only "modest" in financial terms, however.

(Wow, there sure are a lot of food and mudfights in chapter 1, but plenty more ENF, wedgies, hort buns, and spanking is on its way. In this next part, we are introduced to a few other characters. Here we go)

Back in Kerameikos, Maelyrra and Lauranthalasa were celebrating with the duchess the newly-renewed treaty between Alfheim and Kerameikos, hammered out largely in light of the exposure of a Glantrian plot to set the neighbors against one another. There had already been two days of banqueting and celebration, and there were at least two more to come. On the third day, an impressive carriage arrived from Glantri. Resplendent in court finery, Adrienne and Anwen emerged from it, to the shock and bemusement of the revelers.

“Back for more pie? We have plenty!” taunted one of the more inebriated courtiers. “What a surprise to see you in clothes!” another snickered.

Amidst taunts and jeers from the crowd, they approached the duchess. “I must admit that I am surprised to see you in Kerameikos again, considering the state in which you departed,” Chorinna smiled. This remark sparked raucous laughter from the crowd. “As promised, I will consign your companion to your care. You’ll find she has been well-treated, and per her custom, well-fed.” Again, the crowd reeled with laughter. “I suggest you take her and be on your way.”

Anwen started to speak, but Adrienne interrupted, “That is most beneficent your grace, but we intend to tarry longer, with your permission.” The crowd suddenly became quiet, anticipating the answer to this highly unexpected request.

“Surely Archmaga Karana can supply us with a new ambassador—one less, disgraced, to put it gently.”

Adrienne flushed red with anger, and her words came slowly, as if her face was a dam straining to hold back a great flood of rage, “It is the Archmaga’s will that we continue to represent her in Kerameikos.”

“If that is her will, than so be it. Who are we to understand the mysterious ways of the mages?” Again, the crowd burst into laughter. “Please, be seated and feast to the renewed alliance between Kerameikos and Alfheim. A toast to the alliance, and to our newly-returned guests, who made it all possible!” Anwen and Adrienne tried to ignore the taunts and laughter as they found an open pair of seats at a long table at the edge of the courtyard. The seats were unoccupied as both table and chairs wobble unstably in the muddy ground near the drains. The tall guard from the fateful day with the elven delegation appeared, with Emelyn in tow. Joining them at the table, she smiles thankfully at her comrades for subjecting themselves to further humiliation on her behalf. Unable to discuss their situation further, they remain quiet for a time.

Throughout the evening, much drinking and celebration took place. Just as dessert was served, Chorinna’s favorite types of pies, one of the courtiers, Myriah, stood and walked toward the exit, passing behind the duchess as she did. Just as she passed her, she removed a dagger from her corset and lunged toward her. Giuliana, captain of the duchess’ guards, had been alert, and tackled Myriah to the ground. But the would-be assassin’s elbow hit eh back of Chorinna’s head, forcing her face into the pie on her plate. In the ensuing struggle, Giuliana managed to wrest the dagger from Myriah’s hand. But before she could subdue the assassin, she found herself temporarily blinded by a cream pie.

Myriah spun Giuliana and kicks her, sending her falling on top of Sarah, another guard who was arriving to assist. Smashing into a table, the armored guards send wine cups and pies flying everywhere. Myriah put the duchess in a headlock, and dragged her back from the table. Sarah regained her feet and tackled the assassin in a nick of time. As the two of them hit the ground, they fell into a small, closed pavilion tent. Those watching the brawl were surprised to see two courtiers in a compromising state of undress attempting to cover themselves, now that the tent had been knocked away. They clearly had been caught in an amorous act, but all eyes turned back to the assassin. As she recovered her dagger and moved to throw it at the fleeing duchess, Giuliana, a full ten feet away, threw a cream pie which blinded her long enough for Sarah to take her down before she could finish the throw. The dagger dropped harmlessly to the grown and Myriah was led away to the dungeon. Chorinna ordered a servant to inform the party that the duchess would retire to her quarters with some of her guards, in light of recent events.

After ascertaining the good health of the duchess, Decethea the court Cleric turned her attention to the scene behind her. “Dirty wh*r*s, to do this at a state feast! And right behind Her grace, the duchess! You must be punished.” The courtiers, barely free of the collapsed tent, were dumbfounded at their sudden discovery. Many in the crowd disagreed with Decethea, but few would challenge a religious leader of such power.

Few but Rain, the court mage: “These girls are already having a bad evening. Let them leave without further insult or injury.” “It seems they are having too good an evening, and that is at issue,” barked the Cleric in response.

“I warn you,” Rain continued, “Do not further mar this great day of celebration.”

“Morality must be upheld in the cour—“ her sentence stopped short as Rain mashed a cherry pie into her face. “That should shut her up,” Rain mused, waving to the crowd for approval, over the protestations of the head cleric. “Well, you two-bit heathen, I’ll have you removed from the council for this! I’ll--” With a mere gesture, Rain makes Decethea’s mutterings become lost under a punchbowl full of wine. Again, the crowd cheered. At this, Clarion, a more junior cleric approached the dais, and plastered a cherry pie in Rain’s face from behind. “I sometimes think she’s a blowhard, too, but don’t disrespect our religion.” “Well, I never—Clarion!” Decethea protested.

Rain made a small gesture and a salvo of five pies flew off a table toward Clarion. The unusually agile Cleric ducked, and one hit the floor. Two flew past her and made contact with the dancer and serving wench behind her. Smiling with satisfaction at having dodged them, she didn’t notice two of them hovering, then changing direction. She turned in surprise when one hits her backside, only for another to splat her in the face.

The crowd laughed hysterically. “Oh that does it!” Clarion called out. She charged Rain, who retreated to the edge of the courtyard. In her haste, Clarion slipped in the muddy ground, and slid into unstable table occupied by Adrienne, Anwen, and Emelyn, who all landed in a heap of limbs and mud.

“You seem to have found your place, Cleric. Among the swine.” With that, Rain left the courtyard, the raucous crowd, and the cursing cleric. As the spectacle subsided, Decethea turned her attention back to the persecution of the amorous courtiers, only to find that they had left during the commotion. Rain had thoroughly beaten her, and her mind committed itself to finding an opportunity for revenge.

Some images from this section. The Glantrians ask to remain, bear the taunts of the duchess, and the assassin strikes.

More. Thought you might enjoy a look at the couple caught in the act. The Cleric (in the indigo outfit) is angry, and the mage (in red) opposes her. More to come another time.

wow I am loving this story. Are you going to write more? And is the Duchess going to face any humiliating mishaps?

Oh, yeah. There's tons more to this. So much I think just about everyone gets a go-round, Duchess, Elves, Mages, Warriors, Rogues, Pirates, Heroines and Villainesses of all stripes. But some characters clearly have worse luck than others. And there are still a few dozen characters we haven't met yet. they come in gradually, aside from the crews of ships, so it shouldn't be hard to keep track of. Thanks for the feedback. Knowing someone is enjoying it helps motivate me to work on this instead of the million other things I am up to.