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Chapter 8 by Wulfblade Wulfblade

What's next?

Second attack (another natural 1)!

DM: Second attack still pending, rogue. Don't forget you also get swipe with that right dagger.

ROGUE: Yes, yes, I’m on it. Okay, redemption time. Aim for her bodice laces... not my dignity. > A dice clatters against a half-empty glass of rootbeer<

DM, narrowing eyes: You roll... and it’s a natural 1 again.

ROGUE, groaning: Oh, come on!

DM: You lurch with your right-hand dagger toward the barmaid’s bodice laces, but your impetuous swing goes wide and the weapon embeds itself in a nearby wooden pillar with a solid thunk. In your frantic attempt to retrieve it, your feet catches on your tangled pants, sending you sprawling forward. As you topple, your leather vest and shirt snag on the handle of the lodged dagger. With a sharp rip, they’re torn free, limiting you to the modesty offered by your underwear and leaving you in a precarious and scandalously revealing state at the barmaid’s feet, ass cheeks up. Flustered, you scramble to cover yourself, while the barmaid’s gaze lingers, amused and sparkling with mischievous delight.

ROGUE: Fuck!!

DM: The barmaid leans on a crate, hiding a laugh behind her hand. ”Well, that’s one way to get my attention,” she purrs, her eyes teasingly scanning your exposed form.

BARD (laughing): I ‘d like to see that again in slowmotion!

SORCERER: On the bright side, at least she’s consistent.

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