A little experimentation...

You shake your head, somewhat annoyed with your friend's sense of priority (Friend? you think to yourself, bemused by the choice of expression). Fair enough, you have desires of your own, but that didn't mean you have your brain where your penis is. No, you've got something good going on now, far too precious to throw it all away getting your dick wet while out in the open. You look to the defeated mage with a thin trickle of drool down his cheek; this earns you a disdainful guffaw from the thug.

"Suit yourself, buddy. Didn't know you swung that way," he smirks.

"Oh, get your little affair over with," you grumble, hands reaching for the mage's pockets. You pull out a thick spellbook, but quickly draw a blank after leafing through the first few pages. Of course - outside of Common and Gnomish, you're not even certain you understand your cult's sacred texts, never mind whichever ethereal **** this mage is aligned to. Tossing the tome aside, you raid the rest of his baggage, opting to disregard his generic staff, managing to salvage a couple of healing flasks and a slightly dulled trinket.

Worn Helian Amulet
+5% fire resistance

A little expected, and granted you could toss your thug buddy a bone by covering his pyrokinetic weakness a little, but after the high of securing a warhammer, you feel understandably underwhelmed. With some effort you proceed to disrobe the mage; thankfully, the Gritsheim bandit is too occupied with his prey to throw any wisecracks in your direction, and as his arms slide out of the sleeves the spellcaster vanishes in a burst of light as his face eats the dirt.

Trainee Robe
+2 Def
+5 MDef

You would probably need to bring this somewhere to have it altered before you could get any use out of it, and you wish it could have had more physical defense capabilities, but such is the life of a mage. All very well, but what about the other one?

"Hey, munchkin. Over here," grunts the thug. You roll your eyes at the prospect of having to watch the human display his handiwork for you, but you stop in your tracks as you see just what's going on. Contrary to your expectations, the thug is fully clothed with the exception of his pants, pulled downwards enough to let his flesh weapon through. The mercenary, Bethany, is in a similar state of un-undress, with her leather skirt lifted upwards and panties pushed aside to allow simple entry.

"What are you doing?" you can't help ask, as the bandit thuds into the girl's crotch. Even in her **** state, the mercenary's face bears a faint blush from the action as she murmurs occasionally, and her hair bounces enticingly around her brow.

"See, if ripping off their stuff is what makes 'em respawn," huffs your partner between insertions, "Then what it means is if ya don't loot the corpses, they're free game, right? I mean - " Another groan. "Fucking is kinda like combat, innit? Goes on until someone gives up?"

Your mouth gapes open, though somewhat less visible under all that beard. You haven't expected that leap of logic to come from a goon like him!

"Go ahead," he heaves. "Saved ya a seat up front."

In that instant, you feel your mind collapse upon itself, any reason or tactics rudely shoved aside at the presented opportunity. The loot clatters to the ground carelessly, but you feel no shred of concern, eyes on the twin targets in front of you. Your stubby fingers scrabble over her chestplate until you locate the right straps, undoing a couple of them just to loosen the protective material enough, and you slide the armor upwards along with the simple tunic underneath. Going topside was a thing for most gnomes - while interspecies romances weren't unheard of, their stature meant that short of getting squashed during lovemaking, they were rather limited in their positions and fetishes. You aren't much different, and you're about to indulge yourself in one of the standard romp maneuvers. Raise your robes, you expose your gnomish crotch, looking for all intents and purposes like a second beard with a dull, protruding trunk in the front. Holding onto the mercenary's peaks you sandwich your dick into the space between them.

"Ahhhh!" you squeal, in a particularly unmasculine way, but you can't be bothered. This is the desire you dreamed for, watching scantily clad heroines stomp you into the ground while teasing you mercilessly in every way possible. For once in your life as far as you remember, composure is the last thing on your mind. You grapple the mounds in your palms as your butt grates on her midriff, trying to set the Alluvian record for fastest titfuck.

"'ey, scrub! Goddammit, yer like a bloody dog in heat! Ooooh." The complaint is briefly pushed back as the thug feels another spasm around his cock. Your only response is to pant wordlessly, relishing the sensation of your rod snugly fitting in the girl's torso valley, quickly slathered by your earthy-smelling precum. No wonder the thief was so adamant at getting some; this feels amazing!

"GODS, WHAT THE FUCK?!" You pause, terrified by the scream, and your gaze meets Bethany's own horrified, angered glare. You feel the blood drain out of your dick, followed by your face. How were you to know that humping her chest like a rabid rodent would wake her up?

"Take this!"

"Ah!" moans the girl hotly, and you see her right hand swipe at you. No sooner than you reflexively tense for impact you feel her hand strike you weakly on the side, with all the strength of a lettuce leaf. You glance backwards, awed. "Is that - "

"Undermine," sneers the thug, referring to his new debuffing ability. "Been fucking her so tight in all the right places, she's weak as a baby after all those crits. Now do your thing!"

"CONVINCE!" Catching on, you manage to take a hand off that sweet, sweet funbag and shoot magic into the mercenary's eyes. Instantly her eyes roll backwards, followed by her head, issuing lustful gasps and moans from her open mouth. It's a stark contrast from the foul language she was using earlier, and you feel yourself hardening again.

"Do it!" A strangled cough reminds you of your present duties. "Bitch's starting to feel a little light!"

Instinct parses the statement faster than your logic can, and you're once again fucking her tits at full throttle. You watch the rouge tinge on the merc's face deepen as she squeals under your combined touches, fingers teasing around in the dirt while shaking and shuddering in tandem. The sight drives you ever onwards, spittle spraying from your panting mouth while you hyperventilate, your cock a flurry of blurry fur between the masses.

"Lali-ho!" Squeaking, you feel your lower body seize up. A strangely similar sensation to spellcasting ripples through your lower staff, before it's followed by a burst of your gnomish cum, thick and gooey with the mottled appearance of liquid rock. The first blast reaches her eyebrows, drawing a line along her nose and cheek, then joined by a second cousin that almost hits her in the nostril, trailing into her open lips and ending at her chin. Other weaker ones pull about her neck and collarbone. You feel yourself double over, amazed at the exertion and catharsis, and slide off her stomach with your lower body exposed, dripping a trail of cum into the dust.

"Oi! Loot her! Remember?!" interjects the bandit, with a sound that can only be described as a gargh. "Ungh! She's - gonna - AH, FUUUUCK!"

It takes you a few precious seconds to register this, and by the time you do the roughneck heaves, grunts and rams his load into the player, shuddering forcefully with each deposit. Your eyes dart around, and you see the sword the mercenary brandished earlier, left abandoned at the side. You barely manage to close your fingers over the handle, transferring the ownership variable under yours, and heave a sigh of relief. Next to you, the swordswoman spasms as her legs flail helplessly before she squeals a final, high-pitched whine. Her limbs collapse, splayed weakly, and she falls back into unconsciousness. No sooner than that, her body is surrounded by glowing circles, and she despawns into the nether.
You stare back into the dusky sky where the automatic teleport took her, still marveling the experience you had. You're plastered, with your withdrawn willy for all to see, and you simply cannot give a fuck.

"Gods' sakes, cover the hell up! Nobody needs to see that!" scowls the bandit, quickly wiping himself down and jerking up his pants. "Fuck me sideways, I'm starting ta think yer even more of a freak than I am! ...Seriously, if ya actually do fuck me, I'll gut ya twenty times ta next week before I burn the pieces and piss on the fucking ashes."

"Pipe down, will you? Screwing the lady was your idea." You take a deep breath, drawing in the faint smell of lingering sex before getting back up. "A rather grand idea, I'll admit that much. Here, have a weapon."

Two-Handed Iron Sword
+8 Melee attack
Class Penalty: -3 Agility while equipped, for all classes except Mercenary and Warrior.

"The hell?! I can't use this!" demands the thug. "If I so much as hold onto this thing I'll be respawning before I can even get it next to anyone's neck!"

"Welcome to my world," you dryly remark. "Where even the numbers and alphabet want to screw you over."

"Fuck buckets," spits the hoodlum, relenting as he reaches for the weapon and holds it. You can see the uncertainty in his eyes as he gauges its weight, shifting it here and there as he attempts to find a stance that doesn't feel unnatural. Eventually he tries an overhead swing like the female player nearly did. Unwieldy, but likely to take the head off anything that didn't pay attention.

"So, we gonna keep this up, or ya gotta better idea in mind?"