Ogres, Bears and Ambushes, Oh My!

“Weeeell…” Adam said, taking a swig of his glass of ale, “Allow me to start from the beginning.”

“Don’t you start all stories that way?” Cirasiros said, tilting his head. A few monster girls giggled in response.

“I mean, when I first arrived in Old World. Y’know THAT beginning.” Adam retorted, waving his hands for theatric flair.

“Oh.”

“Anyway, my crew and I were told travel to Mermouthia was mostly safe. A few horny monster girls on the prowl, a harmless fling here and there, but nobody could have prepared us for this…”

...

The road to Mermouthia.

Pure, majestic, primal beauty.

The massive forest is lush, covered in tropical vegetation, teeming with jungle life, the ecosystem a perfect microcosm of natural rainforests, a rapidly diminishing biome in the world.

Under the depths of the canopy, our travelers move nestled in a wooden horse-bound carriage. The flags of the Kingdom of Mermouthia wave on both sides. It rattled and shook due to the bumpy dirt road. But as a method to haul massive shipments and new travelers, it worked like a charm.

If you were there, you could count three of them.

A young 23 year old Hispanic man sits slumped in one of the box seats. His head is shaved and bald, his clothes baggy – his shorts are worn and frayed, a stained wife beater barely clings on. His arms are covered in tattoos, black replicas of Mary, Mother of Jesus and stylized skulls. His eyes were shut, the bright light of day hurting his eyes, as the pupils were dilated from whatever the locals fed him a mile or so from the portal. Away from prying eyes.

His companion, to the right, is another Hispanic man, his head shaved save for a tuft of hair at the base of his skull. Dressed in grease stained sweatpants and a long john thermal shirt, he idly smoked whatever passed as a blunt in Old World, the smoke wafting out of the box seat of the carriage.

God knows these idiots failed their background check ten times over. Adam, sitting at the opposite end of the carriage sporting AWIO provided clothes and a sword, was seriously curious as to a.) Who the fuck did they bribe at AWIO b.) Better yet, who in the fuck sponsored them.

“Ey, man, wuzzup wit dat horse chica, bro?” the one on the right side asked, tapping his fingers on an AWIO provided dagger. He had an eye on their guardian, a centaur hired by AWIO to protect the carriage, but he was intimidated by her - she was a strong young woman, sporting a silver lance, leather chest armor which hugged her well-built frame, leading ahead for potential threats. “Mebbe she need a man, you know?”

The man on the left gave a weak laugh. “Ese, she ain’t into yo’ broke ass. ‘sides look how big she is, holmes. Dat pussy wider than yo’ walk in closet in Salinas.”

His friend cackled, breaking into a cough. “Fuck you, pendajo! She jus want to get a dick in er, man.”

Oh God, give me a break.

Tuning out any further conversation by Cheech & Chong, Adam stared out the window of the carriage, saying nothing.

Until the underbrush next to the carriage shook. Something was alive, moving. A few abrupt, shadowy figures rushed on by, before silence.