The Merchant Comes Visiting

Dalmira hummed pleasantly to herself; her common attire was a little tight up top, and had been the past year or two but not enough to be all that uncomfortable; her M-Cup bosom bounced along to the tune she had heard recently and was humming, her arcane book of spells bouncing about on the side of her right thigh. Dalmira was an elf, as was denoted by her distinctive ears; they were a bit longer than most other elves due to being a lesser-known variant that was prone to more nomadic lifestyles; and as an elf, she also had a more lithe frame than most other humanoids. She had taken some basic spellcraft lessons a few decades ago and was gifted a book to study, but she was mostly self-taught and found that her naturally higher-than-average charisma had been of great help as a merchant; the traveling lifestyle also allowed her to reconnect with people she had encountered before and meet new people to connect with. She usually found herself at a particular edge of the country two or three times a year.

Most merchants hardly came up this way, something about it being more money than they could potentially make. Dalmira could understand the profit chasers to some degree, but she also didn’t care much for that attitude. With the way she did things, Dalmira was willing to bend market rules for those she trusted in their favor and against the favor of people she didn’t particularly care for. She was also feeling so frustrated she needed a release, preferably one that wouldn’t be in the spirit of potentially blowing up at those around her.

Dalmira also took lesser-known routes, often bypassing towns and cities in favor of more rural areas before taking the more established paths and roads to travel through the communities she had bypassed sometime prior. Just as planned, she came up on the side of the guild and inn. The statue she had been using as an impromptu workhorse had made the going a bit slower than she would have liked, but the military had invoked a bizarre conscription mandate recently that allowed them to basically take her Clydesdale shortly after she had encountered the centaur; she was thankful there were some old complexes with statues nearby she could use her magic to transform into temporary constructs.

Dalmira didn’t know why, but the past day or so, she was feeling extra frisky and horny; it was said that every magic user had their little quirks, like pyromancers typically being pyromaniacs and some of the higher-ranked clerics get a high off of healing others. Dalmira’s quirk was she had a bit of a transformation kink; she practically felt herself getting wet almost every time she cast a transformation spell. Dalmira never shared this fact with anyone, something that personal wasn’t something you shared with people you weren’t closely intimate with, and was far too embarrassing to tell your immediate and direct family. Sexual fetishes were not something you typically talked with others about, but debates over fetishes to focus spells were numerous in the magical academic communities.

As always, the place was pretty quiet outside. Dalmira headed into the guild; she had to check in with Felnira, the same woman who gave her those beginners classes and a spellbook a few decades ago. They always did this when she passed through; it was an excuse for Damira to talk about the spells she managed to collect, and possibly learn a new spell or two; after which she talked about shopping with the guild and then headed to the inn to do the same. Stepping inside, Dalmira could feel that more eyes were on her than usual as she entered the complex. She walked up to the counter; the kobold that met her looked more sensual than she thought was possible.

“Hi,” said Dalmira, “could you let the guild master know I’ve arrived? Tell her Dalmira has gotten in.” The kobold gave a curt nod and scuddled away to take care of that.

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While Dalmira was taking care of her arrival details, Delvin and Hilthrika were in his chambers at the inn, engaging in sexual activities. “Oh yes,” groaned Hilthrika as she was shoved forcefully up against the wall, “pound me, Master.” She gave an erotic moan of enjoyment.

Delvin quirked his head to the left for a moment before saying, “The imps are reporting an acquaintance of interest has arrived; return to your disguise and position at the guild.”

“Just when we were getting into the best part,” moaned Hilthrika indignantly as she returned to the form of Marin, her miasma manifested gathered her attire and returned to her body, “and I wanted to show off some new tricks that could make our intimate time kinkier.” Marin disappeared in a cloud of demonic smoke that sank into the floor in a split second.

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“Dalmira,” said Felnira, “we were expecting you a few days ago; what happened?”

“A bit after I met with that centaur adventurer that’s new in the area,” said Dalmira, noting the seemingly subtle changes to the other mage, “I encountered some patrolling knights; they invoked some obscure, or bs, rule that allowed them to conscript my horse for their military exercises; I had to enlist an old statue from nearby, so the going was a bit slower than I would have liked. I suppose I’m lucky my merchant cart wasn’t confiscated as well.”

“You learned a spell for bringing statues to life,” inquired Felnira.

“Only for short periods of time,” said Dalmira. “What did I miss?”

“Delvin experienced a power surge, and we’ve been making a few new adjustments around the guild; I suggest you meet with Marin for the necessary details, then go see what Delvin can do for you at the inn.” Dalmira wasn’t the type to voice her suspicions until she had some sort of evidence to point towards.

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After a few minutes of waiting around, Marin emerged from the back to greet the elf merchant woman; she took extra note of the natural sensual figure of the elf woman as she came up front. Marin had only interacted with the elf merchant a small handful of times before, and the interactions were so sparse Dalmira wasn’t sure she could tell if Marin had any physical changes as well; she had an incredibly difficult time telling kobolds apart, and drake-kin with a figure like Marin’s were more of an oddity than anything else. This whole guild was full of oddities, likely placed here so the nation of Irocet wouldn’t have to actually deal with them.

“So,” said Dalmira as she greeted Marin, “anything, in particular, you are looking for?”

“Well,” said Marin, “a new project popped up that requires a very specific material that’s immensely difficult to acquire.”

“And what would that be?”

Marin motioned for the merchant to come in a little closer; she then whispered in Dalmira’s ear, “Psyche Crystal Chalk, the chances of that being present in the mortal realm are slim to none, seeing how the material to make it is absurdly rare in its native realms.”

“I lucked out on actually acquiring information on where to find that very material a few weeks ago,” said Dalmira, “but that specific information comes with a price.”

“Understood,” said Marin, “speak with the guild staff about helping them restock, and I’ll meet you near one of the private meeting rooms at the inn when you’re done. We should at least see what you have for the rest of us.”