Scarlet Date 2, Part 1: Home, Home on the Range

Francis

Francis waves goodbye to Josie and Skye, then heads to the Suite to get ready for his date. He wasn’t exactly expecting that Scarlet would want as close to a full-day date as possible, so he doesn’t know exactly what to anticipate. His make-up already looking good (<Man, Tina knows her stuff.>), he slips on some stockings, a set of lingerie, his mithril boots, and a sky blue sun dress. Checking himself out in a mirror, he muses, <Wow. I really look like a woman like this. A woman that hit several branches falling out of the homely tree, but a woman. Still not worthy of them, but I’m starting to get there.>

He hops into Dungeons for Damsels real quick to pick up a couple of things: another Potion of Long Rest (<Given how often I’m using these, I really need to learn how to make them...>) and a transformation that he really should have grabbed already. He pockets the potion into his inventory and settles in as the transformation takes hold. <I knew I was overeating. No wonder I was feeling so bloated.>

Francis: -50 BP

Daphne: +1 BP (Commission)

Perfect Nutrition – The Master knows that good health is 80% what you eat and 20% what you do. He is also aware that changing his body will result in changing his diet. The Master will innately know exactly how to adjust his diet to build/maintain good health goals for himself and others. When others follow his directions, they will feel both arousal and an increased attraction to him. This increased attraction is not enough to overcome being incompatible to another person’s sexual orientation (Fit Freak).

<So, that definitely confirms that Daphne only gets commission on items this shop would normally sell. No way she’d only get 1 BP from what I bought today.>

Heading to the One-Shot Room, Francis has no idea what’s in store. The sight he takes in is surprisingly familiar. A bluff overlooking his hometown. The dry heat of early summer barrels into him as the sun shines brightly overhead. His gills are not happy about the change in climate. The Rio looks good, separating his town from their sister city across the border. He’s home. Or at least a facsimile of it.

Waiting for him is Scarlet. She’s wearing something akin to a cowgirl stripper costume: pink cowboy boots, Daisy Duke cutoff jeans, a flannel shirt tied up to expose the midriff, and a pink cowboy hat. She’s staring out at the town. Wrapping his arms around her midsection, he leans down to rest his head on her shoulder. “<Interesting choice,>” he notes.

“<I asked Daphne to recreate as much of the area around your home as possible, having us start at your favorite place. Wasn’t expecting this. It’s beautiful out here.>”

“<Yeah>,” he agrees, “<Better at night, assuming you’re prepared for it. The town still makes too much light pollution. Face away from town out here and the sky is teeming with stars.>”

“<What do you mean, prepared?>”

“<Desert gets very cold most nights. Not enough cloud cover to keep the heat in. Plus, lots of critters come out in the evening. Javelinas can mess you up if they decide to. Usually carry a rifle when I come hiking out here.>”

Scarlet muses on that for a bit. “<Are we in danger?>”

“<You tell me. I don’t know what parameters you set. I do still have a bow and some arrows in my inventory, if it comes to that.>”

“<Maybe we should get to town?>”

“<’Bout two miles or so to get to the trail-head parking lot. Hope you’re ready to hike.>”

Tina

Back in the Green Room, there are two individuals breaking the room’s color scheme: the expected silver rabbit, and an unexpected gimp, wrapped up head to toe in tight black leather, with the only things exposed are piercings: rings through the nose septum, rings through the nipples, spiked barb in the belly button, and several studs and rings through the penis. Attached to the gimp is a letter, pinned to a nipple ring. The silver rabbit looks disturbed.

“Hi, Ms. E. Do you know why I’m here? My new agent only told me that I was making a guest appearance?”

“Hello, Ms. Campbell. The poor creature before you is your agent’s assistant. He is an object lesson, if you wish to learn it. I presume your instructions are in that note. If you would please retrieve it, we can move on.”

As Tina grabs the note, the producer rabbit speaks in that gross antithetical language that she used with Vinny. The assistant flips off the rabbit, then a chain spurts out of a hellish portal, attaching to the septum ring. The chain is yanked through the portal, dragging the assistant behind it. The portal closes in a spurt of flame.

“What was all that about?”

“I offered him a chance for freedom, but he prefers his chains. Again, an object lesson. If you are not careful, Ms. Campbell, that could be you.”

Tina reads her note.

---

“Campbell,

Today, you will performing a magic show on another Harem Hotel season’s set. You are to be on your best behavior. No murdering! The season’s host will explain her expectations. You will be paid 10 BP for your participation, plus an additional 10 BP if your performance makes it into an episode for that season.

Don’t forget: you’ve only done 1 Insta-Thot post today. You are expected to post 3 a day to improve your name recognition. If you want to just be known as a fatty, keep posting food images. Lean into the Thot part of Insta-Thot if you want the effort to be actually rewarded.

Prudence”

---

Tina sighs. “Man, why can’t I get a decent agent?”

“Well, Hotel Concierge Inc is based in Minauros. You are only going to get a devil as an agent until you can free yourself from your transformation. At least your current agent is interested more in keeping you contained than selling your future wife’s soul to another Minauros corporation. It is the closest thing to a fair situation that you are going to get.”

Tina’s ears droop, understanding just enough of that to feel deflated, but not enough to understand why. “I guess.”

“Hey, Ms. Campbell, cheer up,” the rabbit says, “You did a lot to develop your relationship with your future wife last night. I am proud of you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of the disaster that was my date,” Tina groans, “Let’s go.”

“Oh, no need. The host is coming here to pick you up. No backstage traversal for you. She is a friend of my father’s, so she should treat you reasonably well.”

A door opens, revealing what looks to be one of those tropical destination resorts and another woman steps in. A big, busty woman in a vaguely ringmaster ensemble. She smiles at the rabbit and says something in another weird language. Sounds kind of like Francis’ pretty gibberish.

The new lady switches to English to say, “This one really needs to learn how to not scream out her thoughts, eh? If you feel the need to speak a name, mine is Titania. May I have yours?”

Before Tina could reply, the bunny does. “Please don’t steal my contestant’s name, Ms. Titania. Play nice.”

Huh?

“Again, think quieter,” this Titania replies. She gives Tina a good look-over, noting, “Well, that is an amusing magical situation you find yourself in, Ms. Campbell. Feel free to perform your spells in whatever manner you like. Just don’t break anything structural. And, most importantly, my season’s participants have to figure out they are on the show; don’t spoil the surprise. With that, welcome to Tahiti. It’s a magical place.”

Scarlet

Scarlet feels like she is dying. It’s so hooooooot!!!!!!!!!!

Francis offers her a bottled water from the trunk of his car. It feels like it’s melting from the heat. He then turns on the car and the AC starts to blast hot, moving air. “<It’ll take a bit for the AC to start to cool. Sip, don’t gulp.>”

Scarlet takes a big swig of the hot water, her parched throat feeling like she’s drinking lava. He takes a reasonable sip, then drops another bottle for her in one of the cup holders. He starts the conversation, “<Hey, drop me in NYC in the winter and I am sure I’d overestimate my ability to handle things. I’ll take care of you. Once the chariot is ready to drive, what’s the plan?>”

Now he’s demanding I think? After that **** march? She downs the rest of the water and cracks the other bottle open. “I lived my entire life in the City, outside a stint at Rutgers. I just wanted to see someplace new. Figured you could show me around town? See the local tourist traps?”

He laughs. “<Well, Aldea de Perros has a population of around 3000, with maybe another 500 people in the wider area on this side of the river. Most of them moved here to work for the Border Patrol. ‘Cross the Rio is our sister city Pueblo de Perros, which is not that much bigger. Not a lot of tourists travel this far off the beaten path. I’ll be happy to show you around town through, if that’s what you want. Where to first?>”

Scarlet’s stomach gurgles loudly. “Food,” she states, not quite a demand.

“<Very well. Your chariot is ready to go.>”

When he starts driving, the air flow in the car improves. It is so weird to be in a car going this fast. Traffic is so stop and go in town that it’s not worth taking a car. Not another car in sight. She grips the handhold hanging by the window hard as the car speeds up.

“<Am I driving the chariot too fast?>”

“Please slow down. Sorry, but chariot, really?”

“<Closest analog to the word I’d use in English. I am trying my best to not think in it right now. Voice still has complete control there. Glad I figured out this loophole.>”

“What’s she saying?”

He replies in a tone that tells her to drop it in no uncertain terms, “<You don’t want to know.>” Pausing for what feels like miles zipping past, he adds, “<Though I think we’ve mostly slayed her by now. Just one thing really left.>”

The road seems to go on forever, an unending line crossing the desert. So, it’s quite noticeable when a very scary looking wall is erected on the north.

“What’s that? I thought the border was south of here.”

“<The very edge of a state maximum security prison. It’s about 5 miles north of here. 3 sets of wall surrounding inhospitable desert before you get to the prison proper. Second biggest employer in the town. You want a tour?>”

Scarlet shudders. “No thank you. So, Border Patrol number 1, scary prison number 2, any other big employers?”

“<Last big one would be city and county governments. You know, schools, police, fire department, various local government bureaucracies. Technically, as an adjunct I’m a county employee. After that, it’s all small business Mom ‘n’ Pop places. There are rumors of a Milky Queen opening up soon if you want a chain restaurant. You know what they say, a Milky Queen opening is a sign that you’ve made it as a small town and it closing is a sign you’re a small city.>”

“Sorry, but what’s a Milky Queen? Please tell me it’s not a porn show thing.”

The rest of the car ride is spent talking, of all things, some nuances of fast food franchising. Because Milky Queen (which is apparently a medium-ish regional fast food chain) has the easiest requirements to met in order to qualify for a franchise, they are always the first to move into a market. Once a market is big enough for the bigger name places like MacDoogal’s to be interested, they push Milky Queen out. Francis heard Milky Queen has good milkshakes, made thick enough that it’s company policy to present them upside-down without a lid. If it spills, well, that’s a problem. And McDoogal’s milkshake machine in every location is always on the fritz.

Soon enough, the car stops in a parking lot and the air conditioning turns off. Francis parks the car under the shade of a weird looking tree. Anticipating the question, he notes “<Honey Mesquite. Good for attracting bees and smoking meat. Grows like weeds out here. If you want dinner in the One-Shot Room and are feeling adventurous, we’ll cross the river. Figured we’d try the Texan side first. Welcome to The Bee’s Knees.>”

Daphne

Daphne is lugging around Dr Hornblower over her shoulder, heading towards the one staff break room that can be accessed via the hallway doors. It takes some particular effort to type in a long string of buttons to get to said staff room. The door nearest to the Master Suite has buttons arranged in a plus sign, then a couple of extra buttons on the side instead of the straight line of buttons the other doors use. She has to press the topmost button twice, the bottom most button twice, the left button, the right button, the left button again, the right button again, the left side button, then the right side button. Irene called it the “Konami Code” once? Doesn’t matter. Daphne needs to get access to the staff areas somehow. The door opens to what would be a sad office break room, half filled with seawater. Setting Dr Hornblower down on a chair, she swims in and grabs a fish from the staff room refrigerator. She munches down on it while she waits for the alarms to stop blaring.

Frenzy Chiefess Ariel swims into the break room soon enough, Cassiopeia in tow.

“You! You are not allowed back here, <traitor>!”

Ignoring the insult, Daphne calmly states, “My Beloved has asked me to try to fix Zoe. Would you prefer me to ignore my Beloved’s will? Would that be good for the frenzy, Chiefess?”

The eely security mermaid whispers in Ariel’s ear. Ariel fumes in anger, then spits out, “Fine. 30 minutes. Media Room. Be there. Now get out!”

Daphne swims up to the de-aged doctor and scoops her up. Dragging herself into the hallway, she chooses the door behind her, waiting for her weird human legs to pop back out. She keeps Dr. Hornblower in her grasp. Need to make sure the plan works before I start trying to unravel whatever was done to Dr. Hornblower.

Francis

Francis thinks about the conveniences on the show as he sets down his lunch tray. Not a soul in sight, but his meal is assembled perfectly. A couple of beef ribs, a little brisket, some roasted brussel sprouts, and a mesquite flour biscuit with some honey from the Bee’s Knee’s apiary out back. Scarlet’s plate looks perfect, too. A sampler of most of the options here. Scarlet grabbed the drinks, but doesn’t look too happy about them.

“There is something seriously wrong with the tea.”

He takes a sip. “<Seems normal. Is this a ‘Yankees don’t drink Southern Sweet Tea’ thing? To be fair, I usually go about a quarter sweet tea, three quarters plain.>”

She rolls her eyes. He lays her plate in front of her, poking at the wad of pulled pork. “This doesn’t look like barbecue.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “<Meat smoked on mesquite for so long that it falls off the bone? This is barbecue. Try it.>” He grabs a rib and starts to tear into the flesh. Watching her sit there in trepidation, he adds, “<Part of travel is trying new things. Trust me, it won’t hurt you.>”

She starts to dig in, tentatively at first, then with gusto. He smiles behind the rib bone. The two eat happily. He gets up to go serve some dessert. A pair of ruby red grapefruit tarts, the citrus grown from a relatively close orchard.

“<Don’t eat here often, so I thought we could splurge.>”

“I’d eat here every day if I could.”

“<You just had a $30 plate of food, Scarlet.>”

“Oh.”

She digs into the tart and groans in pleasure. <Is this the transformation I bought, or is she just enjoying it that much?>

“So, now’s a good time for a hard conversation. I have two conversations in mind. Which would you prefer: help me deal with my last night escapade or we talk about your relationships?”

“<Last night.>” Francis instantly replies.

“Avoiding the relationship talk? That’s fine for now. Last night was weird and it’s implications are disturbing.” She then describes her visit with the divine. Francis listens with rapt attention. <Am I feeling a tinge jealous? Considering how I got to... shouldn’t finish that thought.> When she finishes, she punctuates the story by asking, “What do you think I should do?”

“<Simply put, do what Eilistraee asked. Learn about her. Try to enjoy the dance, no matter the circumstances.>”

“So she has a name. Skye certainly never uses it.”

“<It’s kind of a silly thing if you think about it. Names have power. If Skye walked in here and shouted your name, you’d likely turn to look at her. The girl is afraid that, if she invoked Eilistraee, she’d earn an intensity of focus from the goddess that she couldn’t handle. Replacing her name with a nickname, with a title? I only do it to make Skye more comfortable. I want Eilistraee’s attention, if I can have it.>”

“Why would she say that you know her better?”

He summarizes the theological discussion he had with Skye on their date. All the while, he’s silently praying in Aquan <How much can I say? How much should I say, considering…?> No immediate answer comes.

“In other words, neither of you truly know her yet. This Eilistraee.”

“<That is fair. My reading is more extensive than hers, but it suffers from the same ultimate problem, relying on Gygax to convey truths he didn’t necessarily believe in. We’ve both learned the proper tongue to discover her in her original texts a few days ago, so we haven’t had the time needed to meditate on her true nature. I know I’ve been reading when I get the chance, but finding the time is hard, considering how this game has been stretching me this week. There is something to be said to hear wisdom from one devoted to it’s study.>”

“Should I even consider anyone else, assuming I’m not allowed to be a freelance monk?”

“<I’ve been drawn to her story since I first read it off of the Internet for a game I was DMing. If another draws your attention better, I have no issues, assuming it’s not someone like The Spider. And, yes, I know it’s silly for me to try to avoid getting The Spider’s attention by referring to a nickname. Trust me. You don’t want her attention.>”

He pauses, then sighs, “<Skye on the other hand, may have a problem with it, especially if you spurn her goddess for someone that does not have a particularly good relationship with her. I can talk to her about it. She wants me to be more active in that kind of pursuit anyways.>”

“The three of us should sit down sometime and talk through all of this.”

“<I’d like that. I’ll carve out the time. If nothing else, we could help her cook breakfast. Talk over cooking eggs. Good talk?>”

“Good talk. Next stop, could you teach me how to drive? I don’t think I’ll ever get an opportunity as good as this one to learn.”