Kinky adventurers Ch. 01: Pt. 01-04

The walls of Tristanfell sure were a sight for sore eyes. What with the week of travel before the escapade with the Kra'koa even began, the additional day and a half spent wandering the road begging for enough copper pieces (which Ilya temporarily transmuted to gold) to ransom Kit, and the additional three days of travel since then, every member of the party was footsore and weary of long days on the road.

Of the four of them, Ilya was probably the least used to it. She had only been out adventuring for a few months, while the rest of them seemed to have made a career of it. She practically stumbled through the city gate and couldn't tell whether the looks she got from the town watch on duty there were because of her revealing attire or the thick layer of dust, sweat, and filth covering her body. Either way, she was too tired to care.

As soon as she crossed the threshold into the city proper, however, a strange feeling came over her. A common goal and the confines of the road had kept the four of them together for the past two weeks. Now that they were here in the city, what would keep them from falling apart?

Nothing, a voice inside her whispered. Despite grumbling, disagreements, and ill-fated adventures, Ilya realized she was fond of their little crew and desperate for them to stay together. Each of them in turn held a special place in her heart, and the thought of them drifting apart saddened her greatly.

"What's wrong, Ilya?"

The comment caught her by surprise. She looked up to see Kit looking at her with concern. "Oh, it's nothing," she deflected. "Just a little tired, is all."

"You can say that again," Sixto grumbled goodnaturedly. "I'm beat." He mopped his brow with the back of his hand. "No offense to any of you lovely people, but I need a break from you all. And," he conceded with grace, "I'm sure you could use a break from me."

"We still have the box to deliver," Kit said. "Don't forget." Kit couldn't--she was the one carrying it.

"Oh, I'm not forgetting," Sixto assured her. "Believe me, I don't intend to let the past two weeks go unremunerated. I just need a little space and a chance to let go for a moment."

"That's fine," Kit replied, "but I still think we should know where each of us is staying, so we can be in touch if something comes up."

"That's not a bad idea," Ash chimed in. "I, too, will be out and about tonight, so don't expect me for dinner." She had a mischievous grin that made Ilya suspect she already knew exactly what she would be doing.

These people know so much more about life than I do, Ilya thought ruefully. Ash and Sixto both seemed to know exactly what they wanted out of life, and how to get it. It felt to Ilya as if they had already explored all there was to experience and had decided on the subset that interested them. Ilya was desperate to explore the world herself, yet somehow being around them made her feel a little left out, excluded, as if she was late to the party.

"I'll be at the Hearthstone," Ash said. "At some point tonight, anyway."

"That's not a bad choice," Sixto nodded, approvingly. "I'll grab a room there myself, eventually."

And with that, they both strolled off in different directions.

The city of Tristanfell was laid out as a walled octagon straddling a rather broad, slow moving river. The companions had entered from the west, and in addition to the main road they were on heading into the heart of town, two side roads bent away at angles on either side, running parallel to each of the adjacent sides of the octagon. Sixto and Ash had gone left and right, respectively, leaving Kit and Ilya standing in the main thoroughfare.

"Well?" asked Kit, looking over at her remaining companion. "What do you feel like doing? We have all evening." The address they had been given to deliver the box was a business--an artisan clothier and workshop--that was almost certainly closed by now. The sun had slipped below the horizon as they entered the city, leaving them in a city of considerable size for the first time in two weeks.

"I don't know," Ilya replied. "I've never been to Tristanfell before." She looked around her. People of all kinds were headed in every direction, some on foot and others on horseback. Handcarts and wagons pulled by mules and oxen passed by her. Most of their drivers--of every race imaginable--looked weary, some wary, a few eager for a warm meal or other entertainment at the end of the road.

"What's exciting about this place?" Ilya asked.

"Exciting about Tristanfell?" Kit replied, somewhat taken aback. "I don't know if people typically describe this place as exciting, exactly." Then, sensing Ilya's novice eagerness, she decided to put a positive spin on it. "The marketplace is always fun, though," she offered. "Merchants bring their wares here from all over the Sunshine Coast and well beyond. It famously stays open late, too. Let's go take a look." Kit smiled and cocked her head toward the center of town.

"Sure!" Happy to have someone to explore with who wasn't completely jaded, Ilya went along gladly.

Ilya liked being with Kit the best. In fact, the two of them had joined forces prior to meeting Six and then Ash as part of this delivery job. Now, though, the momentary silences between them felt a little awkward. Ilya didn't know what Kit was thinking, but she had a hard time not recalling images of her friend all tied up and almost completely naked. Up until the adventure in the swamp, she had always seen Kit as a protective, big sister of sorts. That felt comfortable and safe, and she liked being the little sister looking up to her.

That feeling was harder to maintain after holding a rope tied to Kit's neck, looking into her eyes, and saying "You're mine now, slut."

It had been an act, for sure--on Ilya's part, anyway. She didn't actually feel any desire to own her friend. But Kit had been an honest to goodness captive at the time--tied up, helpless, exposed. Watching Kit in that moment had awakened something in Ilya, though she still wasn't sure what, exactly.

Though the sun had set and the sky was fading to turquoise and deep blues, the main roads of Tristanfell were still rather well lit, and busy. Nowhere was this more true than in the center of the city. On either side where the main road crossed the Sansa river sprawled a bustling night market, lit brightly with paper lanterns. Numerous vendors standing behind small, portable stalls shouted and hawked their wares--mostly fried foods, desserts, and trinkets. A young-looking woman with long, wild gray hair sat cross legged on the ground near the bridge, a mat in front of her and a stack of cards at one side.

"Care for a fortune reading?" She asked in a surprisingly deep, dry voice. She was looking at Ilya, but her eyes flicked to Kit as they approached.

Ilya at first didn't notice the comment had been directed at her, what with all the undirected shouting and the general hubbub from the market. Once her eyes locked with the young fortune teller's, however, her face broke into a smile and she strode over. Perhaps it was recognizing another young woman with a wild mane of hair. Perhaps it was a deep, intuitive something Ilya could not explain. Either way, the fortune teller smiled back. Kit rolled her eyes but said nothing, unwilling to ruin Ilya's naive enthusiasm.

"Have a seat, stranger," the raspy voice continued. Its owner had a narrow, pale, face with almond eyes and sharp features. Besides her wild mane of hair, she wore a dark tunic, colorfully embroidered vest, and baggy linen pants. She wore no shoes. Her smile seemed genuine and harmless.

That's what they want you to think, Kit thought to herself warily. She had been burned enough times by con artists to know to be suspicious of just about anyone you met in a big city. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

Ilya, however, plopped down in front of the fortune teller, mirroring her cross legged style, and offered her palm.

"Oh!" The woman said. "You want a palm reading, then?"

"Oh!" Ilya inadvertently copied. "I thought that's what you did."

The fortune teller smiled. "Of course I can. I personally find tarot cards to be so much more exciting, though." She reached for her deck and set it on the small mat between them. Ilya could see the cards were worn from much use. "Let me show you. This first reading's on the me." She gave Ilya a wink.

With a practiced grace, the young woman rapidly shuffled the cards, then flipped over the one on top. It revealed a tower--right-side up from Ilya's perspective--with a glow of fire or magical radiance from its topmost chamber. Around it, on either side, gathered storm clouds flashing lightning and rain.

"Hmm..." the fortune teller mused. "The tower. That's one I don't see too often. It usually indicates disaster waiting for you in the future or trauma from the past. It can also imply dark secrets yet to be revealed, or a shadowy past that haunts you."

Ilya looked dismayed. "That's not good at all! I thought this was supposed to be light hearted."

"Hah!" The wild haired woman laughed at her customer. "If I were a charlatan, merely out to make a few coins at the expense of the gullible, that's exactly what I'd do." Kit rolled her eyes, but no one saw. "I'm the real deal. A bona fide fortune teller. Savras channels his divination through me and my humble cards. I am merely the vessel." She spread her arms wide and shrugged.

Ilya considered the fortune teller silently for a while. Something she had said during the reading had unsettled her. Contrary to her usual enthusiasm, Ilya wasn't sure she wanted to know more.

"I promised that one was on the house," the fortune teller went on. "Would you like another reading?"

When Kit saw that Ilya was honestly hesitant, she dropped down next to her and said, "Read mine instead." Kit was usually not one to throw money at nonsense like this, but Ilya didn't seem to want the proffered reading and if they left now the poor woman would have done work for no pay. And she looked like the kind who didn't make a lot of money on a good day.

Turning from Ilya, the fortune teller looked Kit over. Her eyes swept over Kit's body from head to toe. As she made eye contact again, a devious smile spread over her face. "Alright," she said. "I have a good feeling about this one already."

Kit felt honestly unsettled by her searching gaze and cryptic reply. This was not your usual street performer, that much was clear.

A quick shuffle of the cards later and the woman's long, deft fingers turned a card upright in front of Kit.

"Ooo, the satyr!" The card showed a humanoid figure with a naked, human torso and furry goat legs. The head had horns while the eyes sparkled with devious playfulness.

"What's he supposed to portend?" Kit asked with trepidation.

The fortune teller smiled broadly. "Oh, there's no reason to be anxious. This fellow means all kinds of fun and mischief are in store for you."

"Great," Kit said sarcastically. "That's exactly what I've been looking for."

The wild haired woman cocked her head and considered Kit out of the corner of her eyes. "You say that, and yet I sense all kinds of adventure in you, waiting to come out." When Kit said nothing but continued to look wary, she continued, "This card, facing the way it is, means obsession, addiction, playful exploration, and powerlessness in the face of desire. It sounds like a lot of intense excitement is headed your way."

Kit loosened her coin pouch and tossed a couple silver into the woman's lap. "I hope not. But thanks for the warning." The fortune teller laughed and dropped the coins into a small pouch.

"Much obliged," she said.

They both turned to Ilya, who still wore a troubled look. Kit and the fortune teller made eye contact once more.

"One more for this one," Kit said, tossing another silver piece in the fortune teller's direction. "And make it a happy one."

All seriousness, the woman shuffled her cards again. "I promise nothing. Savras reveals what there is to reveal."

Whatever, Kit thought. Just make it good. I don't like that anxious look on Ilya's face. She's too young for that.

The fortune teller considered Ilya carefully, hands deftly shuffling cards without breaking eye contact. Then, without looking down, she pulled a card from the middle of the deck. Flicking it over, she looked down.

It was the same card, the Satyr. Only this time it was facing the other direction.

"Fascinating," she breathed.

"What, the same fortune?" Kit asked.

"No, not at all," the fortune teller corrected. "The orientation means everything. This reading is completely different from yours. Oriented like this, it indicates independence, freedom, release from captivity, oppression, or control."

A long pause ensued. Ilya stared intently at the card on the mat before her.

"Given the previous reading--the Tower--I can't help but feel there's something important going on," the fortune teller speculated. Looking up at Ilya, she asked, "Is there something from your past you're trying to break free of?"

The hairs on Ilya's arms were standing on end. Even Kit had to admit the moment felt portentous.

"Thank you," Kit offered as she and Ilya rose to their feet. "This has been... lovely."

*********************************

The two women wandered on in silence. There was more than enough on display at the market to hold their attention, but Ilya was uncharacteristically withdrawn and absorbed in her own thoughts. Kit cast glances her way, looking worried. Ultimately, however, she decided that Ilya, though young, was a grown-ass woman and could deal with her own shit. If Ilya wanted to share, she would listen, but she wasn't going to pry. Kit walked alongside her friend in silent solidarity, enjoying the warm night air and the hustle and bustle of Tristanfell.

I: Make a perception check, both of you.

E: Oh, great. Here we go. [Rolls...]

Sb: Me, too?

I: Yes, you too. What did you get, both of you?

E: Balls. 8.

Sb: Slightly better? 10.

I: Good to know.

E: I hate it when you say that.

I: I know :)

Had her attention been less focused on her friend, Kit might have noticed they had picked up a tail. If she had been even more perceptive, she would have caught the way the food vendor ahead on the right looked at them, or the meaningful glance back a few paces behind them. As it happened, though, she noticed neither, and Ilya was too busy trying to parse out the feelings the run in with the fortune teller had brought up to pay much attention.

Perhaps they can be forgiven for their lack of attentiveness. After all, the Tristanfell night market was famous throughout the Sunshine Coast, and this particular midsummer night it was at its best.

E: Thanks, DM. Really makes me feel better.

Si: Hey, Ingrid's cutting you some slack. You both rolled terribly.

Sb: Thanks, Silus.

Si: If you lose the box after all that trouble, I swear to the gods...

E: I'm pretty sure the one who came up with the short end of the stick last time we messed up was me.

Y: You're not wrong ;) Let's do more of that, shall we?

I: Ahem. As I was saying, the Tristanfell night market...

On the left, a halfling woman juggled balls of fire in front of a hat weighed down with copper and silver coins. Nearby, a similarly dressed halfling man sold firecrackers to youngsters. Just beyond the halflings, the smell of batter fried vegetables wafted across the warm air, reminding them both of summer festivals, youth, and fun. Kit stopped briefly to purchase a skewer of fried radish, squash, and potato for each of them. Ilya smiled at this and seemed to cheer up a bit.

Several steps on, the most delightful smell of them all tickled their noses: fried dough, mingled with sugar and cinnamon and cooked in long sticks.

Si: You could just come out and call them churros, DM.

I: There are no churros in Tristanfell, Silus. But there are long sticks of fried dough with sugar and cinnamon sprinkled on them.

Si: Oh? And what are those called?

E: You're not there, so you don't get to ask.

I: That's exactly right, Emma.

"Oh, those are my favorite!" Ilya exclaimed, hurrying over with a bright smile. A middle aged human man smiled back.

"Welcome, miss! What can I get for you this fine evening?" Aside from the cinnamon bread sticks, he sold a flakey, honey-soaked pastry and chocolate dipped strawberries.

"What not to get is the real question," Ilya replied, sounding mock-distraught.

"Aye! Well, there's no reason not to get some of everything. You only live once, you know." The man winked at her conspiratorially. Kit walked up behind Ilya as she reached into her coin purse and asked for two of each.

Just then, Kit felt the point of a knife press hard into her back as a soft, velvet voice whispered into her ear, "Don't move if you value your skin. Shrug off your pack and we'll be on our way."

Kit took instant stock of her surroundings. From experience--or was it intuition?--she knew there was at least one more behind her besides the one with the knife, whom she guessed based on the pitch of her voice was a human female. Slightly in front and to her left, Ilya was busy interacting with the sweets vendor, blissfully unaware.

E: What about the sweets vendor? Is he acting shifty?

I: Make an insight check.

E: Here goes nothing... [rolls], 16.

The vendor, on the other hand, didn't seem quite as engaged as Ilya was. Kit could swear she saw him flick his gaze over at her--or rather, over her shoulder--while Ilya was picking out a honey pastry.

You honey-tongued bastard, Kit thought. But now was no time to give the man a piece of her mind; she had more immediate problems to attend to. Kit went stiff but did nothing else, pretending to be paralyzed by fear in order to buy herself more time.

"That's right," the assailant behind her coaxed. "Now shrug off your pack without moving and my blade doesn't have to explore your insides."

I: You can't see whoever's behind you, but you feel the point of their dagger against your back. What do you do?

E: Fuck this. I'm not going to just lay down and take it this time.

Overconfident bitch, Kit thought. Maybe it was her innate disgust for violence and anger at those willing to inflict it on others for personal gain, or maybe it was her recent experience surrendering to the Kra'koa. Either way, Kit felt a well of anger and determination surge up in her. Almost instinctively, she formed and executed a plan.

In one, quick motion Kit did what she was told: facing forward and staying otherwise still, she shrugged off the shoulder straps of her pack--inside of which was the box they were being paid to deliver. As the pack rapidly descended toward the ground, it knocked the blade pressed against her lower back aside.

Hearing the female voice and another behind her gasp quietly in surprise at the too-rapid compliance with their orders (I knew there was another one, Kit congratulated herself), Kit spun around, striking out with a leather gauntlet-clad arm at what she guessed would be head-height for the whisperer.

I: Make an attack role with disadvantage, since you can't see your target.

E: Yeah, but I took the 'blind fighting' style, so it's just a straight roll, right?

I: Oh yeah! Damn. Perfect for this. Yes, go ahead and make an attack roll as normal

E: 18!

She guessed well. Her gauntlet caught one of her assailants hard in the side of the face. Letting out a loud 'umph,' a human female dressed in nondescript tunic, breeches, and traveling cloak stumbled to her left and crashed into her colleague, who had his hands full catching Kit's bag as it slid to the ground.

Ilya turned around, a quizzical expression on her face, just in time to see Kit clock an elf male in the side of the head with a wicked left hook. He crumpled to the ground, dragging his still stumbling compatriot down with him.