Chapter 2

The elven inhabitants of Tarimore all gather around a bonfire at the center of town. The priestess, a tall gaunt elderly woman with silver hair that extends to the ground, approaches the fire holding a dozen carved wooden sticks. Her shapely legs emerge from the deep slit in her sheer white gown as she walks. She raises the sticks and speaks an ancient ritual phrase.

Upon finishing the speech the elven priestess tosses the sticks into the air, just over the flame. All of them burst into sparks, save for one. It falls back to the dirt with an unceremonious flop, and the priestess bends to pick it up. She reads the name engraved on it... Elora.

You are flush with a mix of fear and pride. Every young woman is taught that the warrior who enters the ruins is a hero and is revered by all. And yet, no one knows the terrors the warrior must face deep in the dungeon, and of course, they never return.

You barely have time to react as you are ushered away to the town temple. Once inside you see the main hall has been emptied, and there are dozens of candles and incense surrounding a small table with what appears to be a set of warriors gear on it.

The priestess says no words as she pulls your clothing away. Your supple young body is glowing in the candlelight, highlighting your toned stomach, petite breasts, and perky ass. The older woman grabs the armor on the table and begins to strap it to your soft lavender elven skin. You are surprised at the armor, it is not as sturdy as you expected, merely rough pieces of leather with leftover chainmail. Once you are fully donned you can't help but notice your stomach is completely exposed, along with your thighs and upper chest. The gear is merely a short skirt, long leather boots and gloves, and a small chest-piece. You are also handed a backpack, full of rations and a water-skin strapped to it.

You are still in shock you can barely find the words to ask the priestess why the armor is so simple when she hands you an old sword and ushers you out of the temple and towards the ruins. Only a few broken stone pillars remain, leading to an overgrown tunnel jutting out from the earth. A bricked staircase leads down into darkness. The priestess wishes you a safe journey and nudges you to the threshold before taking a few steps back.

Your hands are sweaty and your petite body is shaking as you look into the pitch. You try to gain your composure, remembering all the strong women before you who entered the dungeon without fear, eager to protect their village. You take one step down into the ruins, and from there the other steps seem to come easier. What horrors wait in the dark?