With an enlightening drink, and a shopping trip

Some time has passed, and you’re still in the tavern nursing drinks. The pleasant din of the crowd around you is a fitting backdrop for your racing thoughts. Clara had never flirted, or sought pleasurable company in the towns you visited. Your antics with Layleen and dalliances with a few other ladies during your travels together were always met with seeming indifference.

You also consider the muted reaction of the serving girl. Your favorite tavern has a pretty laid back atmosphere, but isn’t the kind of establishment where sex acts took place out front. You were sure some of the other patrons had seen Clara pleasuring you, but no one had seen fit to comment or stare. For a moment you considered that you may have been under a spell and tried flirting with some of the servers and patrons, but you were met with your normal luck; some ignoring you, a few polite brush offs and a giggle or two. You are stumped as to what’s going on.

“HA! For someone who thinks he’s so clever yer ignoring what’s in front of yer face,” a bellowing voice says beside you. You turn to realize that you’ve been joined at your table by a man you’ve never seen before.

A few things strike you about him. Your companion seems well-drunk, with flushed cheeks beneath a head of billowing, ruddy brown hair and a beard to match. He looks dressed for travel in some light leather armor and wears a prominent eyepatch over his left eye. He’s also roughly twenty feet tall.

“O…K,hi,” you manage, realizing that instead of your small corner table you’re sitting at a massive banquet table that wouldn’t have fit in the tavern you thought you were in a few moments ago. “And you are?”

“Aw, I’m hurt boy. You’ve raised a glass to me plenty o’ times. Certainly Mister professional solver can puzzle this’un out.”

Though a couple drinks past optimal condition yourself, his teasing does remind you of something. Trying to place his features, you recall the reliefs dotting the walls of the adventurer’s guild, the ones the old vets toasted whenever they were in the mood to celebrate. “…Magada?”

He swallows a mouthful and slams his tankard down, splashing a wash basin’s worth of ale on the table around you. “That’s right! Patron deity of wanderers, adventurers, and youthful lusts,” he booms, “and you, lad, are totin’ around me missin’ eye.”

“Your eye,” you start, before putting the pieces together, “the rock? I thought it was an artifact of Lymera, and powerless?”

He laughs long and loud. “Just cause it was in her Temple doesn’t mean it’s hers, lad. T’was something she relieved me of when she found out I was shtuppin’ two of her sisters and a demoness she was particularly rankled with.”

You have a difficult time picturing the Goddess of Love and Peace, the Tranquil Mother, the Calm after the Storm tearing someone’s eye out, but then again, you should probably be having more trouble accepting the gods as actual beings and not concepts to teach children life’s lessons. “That’s pretty ****.”

“Her acolytes like to act all pure and pretty, as if they think the Goddess of Love never took any lovers. She told me to give her one of my “orbs” in apology. Yer lucky that’s me eye in your pack, boy!”

You take a pause, and a swig from your cup. You realize the drink tastes like your favorite ale, from that tiny village you haven’t seen in years. You find yourself easing into the conversation, like your talking to a kindred spirit. “So why didn’t anyone know what this was?”

“Cause it hasn’t been in the hands of a proper wand’rer for some six hunnert years. Locked up by Lymera’s priests then poked an’ prodded by robes and bookbinders. It still carries me blessin’ though, just needed a true adventurer to hold it.”

You feel a swell of pride from his flattery, and would agree with his assessment. You left home at 15, unhappy in your small hamlet in northeast Forentia (or the Disputed Territory of Vostberg, you now suppose). You did your time as a junior adventurer, trading your pride and most of your share of the take for the “advice and training” of the seasoned pros until you could get your license at 18. You swing a good sword and can throw a fireball to surprise enemies that underestimate you, but none of your skills were worth a fancy title and the testers wanted to label you a “journeyman,” confining you to a life of guarding farmers’ wagons. You convinced them to put you at the basic “fighter” and took to calling yourself a “Professional Problem Solver.” You got by mostly on cunning, guile, and choosing a good team to have around you, and eventually you weren’t the only one calling you the made-up title and the Solvers had a bit of a reputation to trade on. “So, having your eye let me get a handjob from Clara?”

He laughs and smiles at your growing acceptance. “Aye, that’s the short of it. Long as it’s in yer possession and yer on a proper quest, it lets ye indulge yer lusts with yer companions.”

Those words warm you more than the night’s worth of drink, and Magada gives his biggest laugh yet as he sees your thoughts are already racing. “But I cann’t give the whole game away, lad. Enjoy yerself!” With that he takes one more long drink from his tankard, and when he slams it to the table your head lifts with a start.

You’re back at your little corner table in your favorite tavern in Forentia’s capitol. You somehow know that what you experienced was not a simple dream brought on by the odd situation and free flowing ale. You smile to yourself as you think of what it could mean.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Should we buy more provisions, or are we hoping to hunt along the way?”

You answer Clara’s question before spacing out again. It’s late in the following morning, and the two of you are in the large, combined armory and supply store in the city’s market district. You had decided to suggest coming here to give yourself some time to observe your elven friend and think about your situation.

You’ve been watching for any sign of unease in your party member, but haven’t noticed anything. Clara had woken well before you and seemed unfazed by the prior night’s happenings. The two of you had quickly discussed where to start your preparations and walked in companionable silence to the shop.

You browse the armors, leathers, and furs while Clara gathers various potions and supplies. You notice the wide range of armor styles, from those that cover fully to those intended to show off and flatter a warrior’s figure. Each one enchanted to provide the same amount of protection, in battle and from the elements, for reasons you’ve never quite understood but certainly aren’t going to complain about. It’s likely attributable to the fact that most armorers in Forentia are men.

Those musings actually give you an idea, and you call over to Clara, “Did you still want to get some new all-weather gear?”

“I will need something by the time we reach the mountains, if we do not intend to recruit a mage, yes.”

You point out a leather armor set, one that seems to be fashioned for female adventurers who traded all of their modesty for other perks. “You should try this on.”

Clara ambles over, and pauses when she sees where your hand is pointing. You notice a bit of shock and a blush, but no anger on her features, and push a bit more, “I’d like to see you in it.”

“Oh, of course, certainly,” Clara says suddenly before pushing her collected supplies into your arms. “Please hold these.” With that she takes the armor set and moves over to the fitting rooms.

Even with what Magada told you, you’re a bit shocked that that seemed to work. You saw her hesitating at the request, but once you phrased it in terms of your desire, she accepted right away.

A few minutes pass as you hold the potions and dried meat in your hands. The man behind the counter gives you a smirk, perhaps thinking Clara brought you shopping simply to carry her things. Then a soft voice sounds from behind the fitting room’s curtain, “Alan, can you come here, please.”

You lay the supplies down and approach the curtain, when a pair of small hands grab your shoulders and pull you bodily into the stall. You certainly appreciate what you see inside.

The “armor” Clara wears is essentially a set of leather gorget, pauldrons and shorts connected by a leather strap running vertically down the middle of her torso, and another down the middle of her back. A horizontal strap acts as a bra, but leaves most her taut stomach exposed. The boots cover much more, running up her legs to above the knee. You’ve never seen your stealthy ally stand out more, and it has an immediate effect on your arousal.

Clara seems embarrassed at the idea of the armor, but not at you seeing her in it. “It fits well, and allows for movement. I will still need my forest cloak for sneaking. What do you think?”

“I think it looks fantastic, though it might be a little distracting for me,” you say, drawing her eyes down to below your belt.

Her blush flares once more, but she moves smoothly and quickly to her knees in front of you. “No matter, I understand,” she whispers, already unbuckling your belt.

Your experiment is clearly a success and quickly getting out of hand, but you let the elf begin stroking you, quickly finding the same rhythm from the night before. She’s a quick study, and you wonder if you can take things further. “Clara, have you ever used your mouth to pleasure a man…or elf, I mean.”

She shakes her head, and doesn’t look like she’s going to take any initiative, but when you pull her head closer to your tool, she purses her lips and kisses the head, even sliding her tongue out to swipe around the glans. You let her continue getting used to the sensations, before urging her to take your cock into her mouth. “Watch your teeth, and just take as much as you can.” Clara nods, causing your dick to poke her nose, adorably, then wraps her mouth around your head and starts to slide down.

Though inexperienced, Clara seems eager to please, and remembers from the guided hand job the spots where you’re most sensitive, seeking them out with her lips and tongue. Her petite form and unfamiliarity with taking your member means she can’t get too much of you inside, but she tries gamely, and you start to feel the effects in earnest.

If the sales clerk or other customers have any issues with your behavior, as some of your moans have surely alerted them to the goings on, they haven’t seen fit to address it. This emboldens you even more, and given Clara’s willingness to let you take the lead before, you bring both your hands to the sides of her head, your thumbs resting behind her long, pointed ears. You start to bring her further down your cock, deeper than she was hitting herself while still pulling back before when you think she’ll start gagging. She surrenders control of the pace easily, and begins focusing on using her tongue and hands as your excitement intensifies.

A voice pops up from outside the curtain, and you recognize the clerk’s nasal tone, “If you get anything dirty, you will have to pay for it, of course.”

You chuckle at his priorities, but enjoy the moment. Looking down at Clara, you say “You heard the man, try and catch as much in your mouth as you can.” You feel her nod with your dick nearing the entrance to her throat, and the sensation sets you off.

You pull back to cum in her mouth, several large spurts hitting her tongue before your head slips out. You deposit the remaining two spasms worth on her cheeks as she swallows down what she caught. You lean back as she quickly uses her fingers to bring the rest inside her mouth, likely taking your last instruction to heart thanks to your wonderful new artifact.

Fully satisfied, both with your experiment and your release, you leave the curtained room. Turning your head, you tell Clara “It’s a nice outfit, but I’m not sure whether we’ll be mostly in towns or wilderness during the trip, so grab something you’d feel comfortable wearing in public.” There is no reason to push your modest companion to extremes, as with the eye in your pack you know you can create new opportunities for fun whenever the need arises.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The two of you grab lunch, once again finding yourselves at the cozy tavern you’ve enjoyed so much. Your feeling on top of the world, and are now ready to really consider your journey, and party.

Obviously, you don’t think you want to give up the eye so it can languish under guard in the Temple of Lymera, but if you abandon the journey you wouldn’t be on a “proper quest” any longer and the blessing would fade. Not to mention, you’d likely have the King’s agents and the thieves the archivist mentioned after the artifact and some of your fellow adventurers after your ass for abandoning a job that carried the Crown’s seal. For now, the best thing to do is carry on and wait for the right opportunity to present itself.

This, of course, means finding some more party members. You could head over to the adventurer’s guild building. There are sure to be a few allies you’ve worked with before kicking around, and it would be simple to convince some fresh-faced, newly licensed adventurer looking for their first big payday to join an A-Rank quest.

Looking around the bar, you notice a few candidates right here. Turns out when your Kingdom is forcibly demilitarized, there are suddenly quite of few ex-soldiers bumming about. A proud, but tired looking woman sits at the bar, nursing a pint. From the look of her, particularly her lovely, muscled thighs and rump, you’d guess ex-cavalry. Even without her horse, she likely still has the full shield and lance, and she’s certainly someone you wouldn’t mind standing behind.

A couple at another table catches your eye. The man is a brute, textbook barbarian, a couple heads taller than you and wearing more animal fur than most animals do. You could cause a lot of trouble with someone like that soaking up the enemies’ attention, but his companion is even more interesting. She’s sitting beside him, or hanging off him as the case may be, and you’re struck by her dark skin, intense eyes and the black hair she keeps in about twelve large braids. You can sense magic as an aura around her, though can’t quite pin down its type. If she’s not using it on behalf of a guild or church, as she wears no signifying markings, it could be one of the more…peculiar schools.

Finally, of course, there is Layleen. She should still be in town, either working at the clinic or holed up in a new “resistance bunker,” otherwise known as some insufferably charming guy’s place. She once shared your quests and your tent during some of the finest times in your life. Perhaps you could convince her that your current charge is worthy of her attentions?

Author's note: With that, the journey is introduced and the fun can begin in earnest. Comments, suggestions, and additions are certainly welcome, if anyone would like to see or write more about a particular companion- Ori