One last adventure.

Your heart yearns for something more as you restlessly contemplate your impending departure. On a whim you call for one of your eunuchs to bring your adventuring gear. You slip your enchanted mithral vest over your head, its sylvan coils light and deceptively durable, proof against spear and fang. Leather pantaloons and a silken cape of fire protection go on next, followed by your supple and stealthy elven boots. You put a ring of protection upon your left pinky and a gauntlet of ogre power upon your right hand. You strap a cleaving bastard sword and a heart seeking dagger to your hips. A bag of holding is slung across your shoulders, two vampire bolas, an assortment of potions and scrolls and a staggering array of other oddments concealed within its extra-dimensional pocket.

“Master, be careful,” one of your svelte **** girls says dreamily amongst the bedsheets, her sleepy eyes showing concern. You smile as you admire her naked charms, tousle her lovely golden hair then depart for the Silver Eel, a tavern where bawdy adventure always awaits.

A waxing moon limns the cantankerous architecture of the dismal streets. At the end of an alley more crooked than most, in a particularly ill frequented and seedy section of the city you find the Inky Squid, an inn of no particular repute. Sullen Stygian sorcerers lurk amongst the shadows that hem its oppressing walls. They glower grimly, deep in the thrall of their inner demons. Addled mercenaries passed about a bubbling hoopa pipe, reeking of sweat, apple and sess. Painted harlots lounge in indolent semi-nakedness, their slender wares enticingly on show.

A lone exotic dancer garbed in low cut chemise and tiny diaphanous skirt moves to a strange music. The delicate ivory of her roundly slender limbs is limned by a feeble light, lending mystery to the sultry motions of her fluid flesh. Dusky tresses and long kohl darkened lashes framed her every glance.

You take a seat and order a drink, biding your time. Suddenly a filthy shaking hand clasping a glowing jewel the size of a hens egg descended upon the table and its filthy owner collapsed wearily into the nearby seat.

“Interesting bauble,” you note wrinkling your nose at the noxious stench of your new companion.