Gurgla the Crafty

Hungry.

You're hungry, not for food. There are fish aplenty in this mountain stream.

Hungry with lust. You open your mouth and bellow out your frustration. The river water washes your cries away. You kick up to the surface.

You look up through the transparent webs of your fingers to the sun shining between the boards of the bridge curving above you. It had seemed like a good idea to come up into the hills, after the tribal chief's jealous wives cast you out. For the first few weeks, you were able to snare a long-shafted Elvin messenger or tasty Gnome peddler every day or two. Your mother taught you well how to wear down their resistance with your tickling tongue, until they begged to please you, to plunge their little pricks into your hungry love-grotto.

But the summer has slackened the rushing waters, and travelers are scarce, taking the short cut by way of the low-water ford. The few resident water nymphs are too wary and shy to come into your reach, but lying still and deep under the water, you've heard them chatting to one another. One told a tale to her sister of a pack of arrogant elf warriors who invaded a nymph's spring to **** her, only to find themselves enchanted into taking their lusts out on one another. You also gather from their talk that there's a deep lake upstream where the Gnomes have been busily working away for quite a while, building something over the hot springs that bubble up on one shore.

Rolling up your few belongings in a fishing net, you set off upstream. After a long dry day of climbing over rocks, resting when the stream gathers in pools deep enough to hold you, you reach the outlet of a high mountain lake.

You're still hungry with lust, but you have a plan. You can just taste those little Gnomes already...