Frefington

Thousands, Mienna had said. Indeed there are. The guards at the gate raise a few eyes at your curious party: a human youth atop a blue wolf, a woman carrying a wolf beastman child against one shoulder, and a half-elf child being led by her other hand. They didn't stop you, though. Your small family enters Frefington--and you pause to take in the view.

All about you people hustle and bustle. It's more people than you ever could have imagined, and all of them so different! There are two tall, muscular men with green skin leading a similarly green-skinned female into an alley--or rather, she's pushing them in, one hand on each of their butts. A group of short, stout folk are showing each other weapons and throwing out boasts. Dozens of humans are wrapped up in cloaks and cowls and robes and sashes and running about from one stall to another, sometimes buying and sometimes selling.

Just seeing all these people, you feel your ovaries opening up. Preparing. "Mienna," you say quietly, "all these people..." You don't know if you can make it.

"Hm? Oh, that's right, you haven't seen...well, a lot of this. Let's see. Those are dwarves, most of them are smiths selling weapons or armor since lots of heroes need to buy or repair out here. Um, the pointy ears mean elves, like Doffson but more so. Green or brown skin usually means half-orc--unless they have brown skin and pointy ears, then they're a dark elf."

"No, not that," you try to correct. You close your legs a little tighter, hoping no fluid is dripping.

"Oh, if they're behind a stall they're an NHC. The ones in armor running about are probably heroes. The ones in armor watching everyone else run about are the guards, which are technically NHCs but are a lot stronger than the others. Don't tick them off... I swear, if these filters don't fudging stop-!"

Evidently she's busy with an entirely different set of concerns. Maybe she won't mind if you slip away for a bit. Just five or six. As your eyes rove over the crowd, picking out the best candidates for producing beautiful, healthy offspring, Skoll turns her head up to watch you. "Mama... smells hot."

She's still in your 'clothes.' And with her lupine senses, she can smell the arousal on your body (and running down your inner thighs now). "Yes, love, but we need to get you shorts first, right? Mienna, stop cursing the universe's laws and lead us to that shop. Quickly."

"Grrr. Whatever. Come on; Mizz Borge's is the best shop for cheap gear."

"Miss... Borge?" Doffson echoed curiously.

"Mizz. Definitely Mizz," Mienna corrected. For some reason a shiver raced down her spine. Is she cold? Is it cold out? Everything feels so hot right now, but that might just be you.