{{:3 No worries, Kitts. Happens to everyone.}}<br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;&lt;outside of the inn&gt;&gt;</span><br/>Except for hints of fading twighlight on some of the Cheral canyon's east-facing cliffs, Armel has slipped into the darkness of night. Two everburning lamps, along with the light pouring out of the door-less portal, are the only sources of light in the inn's yard.<br/><br/>"...why, there's one right now..." says a soft voice to Geno's left, from a darker section of the wall he is leaning against. "Hey there." it calls out to him.<br/>The dragonfolk recognizes the speaker as female, but in the dimness he can only make out that she is some sort of very large canid.<br/>"How's it going,<span style="font-style: italic">darastrix</span>*? Enjoying ourselves?"<span style="font-size: 84%; line-height: 116%;">{{*-Draconic word for "dragon"}}</span><br/>She moves closer, and now Geno sees that she some unusual variety of foxtaur. Her fur, where it is visible beneath the plates of her metal barding, is emerald green and punctuated by rows of bony spikes that run the length of her back. Her frame is heavy, even for a taur, and she's obviously been eating well lately. Yet it would be a fatal mistake to assume from her thickness that she is flabby or slow. With each graceful step she takes, the dense bands of muscle that are visible sliding beneath the soft curves of her flank and legs leave no doubt that this is a creature who, despite her weight and armor, is capable of moving at a frightening velocity when she's motivated.<br/><br/>At the moment, though, her demeanour is leisurely. She regards the Borygan with a lazy half-smile as she slowly saunters up to him, as though they were close friends.<br/>"You made short work of the Heodo punks, I hear." She stops mere feet from the dragonfolk and rests her hands on her hips. Unless he backs away, Geno is now standing close enough to feel the heat radiating from the taur's body and see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. Her smell is exquisite: a sacharine bouquet of flavors with hints of several species.<br/>"And yet, here you are...thin as a rail and without a scratch on you. Very impressive. You must have quite the metabolism."<br/><br/>"My name is Nurkisi Gamol. This--" she gestures to a shady human in dark leather armor standing behind her, who Geno hadn't even noticed until she pointed him out. "--is my servant Wu." The man nods slightly, but says nothing.<br/>"And you,<span style="font-style: italic">darastrix</span>? What might your name be?"<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;&lt;main hall of the inn&gt;&gt;</span><br/>"First touch is free. But if it happens again, I'll eat you." says Jess to Rihyan. "Fair warning."<br/><br/><br/>"Oh don't worry about her, she's real good with a kukri." says Soma proudly, in response to the question about Yuki being alone. "Anyone lays a finger on her, she's liable to cut it off and make a necklace out of it. Besides, the Inn is neutral ground. It's more-or-less safe, 'less you've got enemies with deep pockets."<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>When a massive centaur moves to block her escape route, the fluff-tailed youth lets out a panicked yelp and skitters her feet against the stone floor to change her direction of flight. She dashes to the right, leaps, and starts to clamber [using her racial climb speed] her way skillfully up the paneled wall.<br/>[her touch AC is 13, and her grapple bonus is -5; capture is basically guaranteed unless you roll a 1]<br/><br/><br/>Not knowing that the two are allies, the griffon laughs ascerbically at what he sees.  "Better hurry, fox! That taur's got eyes on your meat!" He quickly pockets the bag of 'gold', having no intention of returning it if the fox is robbed by the centaur and ends up empty-handed.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;&lt;a minute ago, across the room&gt;&gt;</span><br/>The drider Leska surveys her latest toy: an young adult elf who lies spread out on the table in front of her, shirtless, with his arms and legs bound by strands of webbing. She once more notes with approval that he has taken good care of his body and is pretty handsome to boot. Being ugly would not have saved him from what awaits...but it would have at least made his end quick. As it is, however, his comely features have ironically added to his agony; over the last few days the drider has enjoyed 'playing' with him to the limits of his endurance. But now, as is the inevitable fate of all of her toys, Leska has grown bored of him. And so there remains but one last pleasure for her to extract: the satiation of her hunger.<br/><br/>The eight-legged monster scoops the elf under his arms and pulls him up so that his eyes are level with her mouth. His hindbrain, oblivious to the doom that awaits him past those soft lips, finds this position--pressed up against her extremely-well-endowed chest--to be quite exciting and it sets in motion the male prandial response.<br/>Leska feels a poke against her navel, and giggles with amusement. "Hehe...looks like<span style="font-style: italic">someone</span>'s getting<span style="font-style: italic">excitied</span>..."<br/>"Pl-please, Leska..." stammers the elf, clinging to the composure that his race is known for. But he knows that looking for mercy in this spider's heart is like digging for water in a desert: there's nothing there.<br/>"<span style="font-style: italic"> 'Please?'</span>Hehehe...he's<span style="font-style: italic">begging</span>for it now! He just can't wait to be part of me..." She grins down at her other captive who lies web-bound on the floor. She has left this second toy's eyes uncovered and positioned her so that she can watch the action, as a preview for what awaits her when Leska grows bored of her as well.<br/><br/>The drider draws the elf close into a deep, passionate kiss. And for all of his loathing and horror, he cannot help but enjoy it on some level. That is, at least, until she starts kissing more greedily, and widens her gape to draw his entire head into her eager maw. At this point, as his world slips forevermore into moist darkness, terror at last overwhelms him and he begins to thrash against his silk bonds with every ounce of strength he can muster. At first, the drider proceeds slowly and savors each swallow, both the taste of her prey and the look on the face of her spectator. Then, once the squirming elf has been consumed past his waist, she finishes him off with a single powerful gulp that sends him spilling into the tight confines of her belly.<br/><br/><br/>"Mmmmmmm...He was--"<span style="font-weight: bold">*CRASH*</span><br/>Surprised, Leska whips her head around to see that a polar bear (?!) has just sat on and destroyed one of the longtables in the corner; the same table where an angel had been conjured minutes earlier.<br/><br/>Distracted from her meal by curiousity, she stands onto her eight legs and navigates her way to the western side of the main hall. She leaves her remaining web-bound captive unattended at her table without a second thought. The girl isn't going anywhere under their own power, afterall. And no one would be foolish enough to steal one of her toys--not unless they wanted to end up becoming one.<br/><br/>The drider arrives at a small table where three mercenaries are seated, and plops herself down next to a grizzled, splintmailed human with an eyepatch.<br/>"Evening, Leska." says the merc, fixing his eye on her sated gut.<br/>"Hey Gurst." she says. "Gurst, you know most everybody in town. Who are those guys over in the corner?" she indicates {the PCs} with a jerk of her head. "What's their story?"<br/>"Was wondering that myself, actually." says Gurst, "Buncha them I've never seen before. Tha nervous girl in the blue..." the mercenary looks at Mindy. "She lurks around, asks a lotta questions but doesn't talk much. Ah dunno know her name. The girl with the purple hair is Somaline Ananda, shapeshifter and con-artist. Her friend in the red is a pit fighter, just goes by 'Jess'. The rest...dunno..." He and Leska scrutinize the unfamiliar faces who are gathered around the broken longtable: the heavily-armed bunnygal in dwarven-runed cloak; the bronzed man in plain garb; the incongruous polar bear; the bulging, winged centaur; and--here the mercenary's eye lingers especially long--the flawlessly sculpted female, whose radiant features are concealed by nothing more than a cloth draped over her shoulders. (Sen, as usual, is all but overlooked, nestled discretely as he is between his large allies)<br/>"Ah'd say they're cultists, as they've got some serious spellpower at their disposal. But they aren't wearing Nezibolgian colors. If ah had to guess, I'd say they're an unaligned gang, just arrived from the wasteland."<br/><br/>"Unaligned, huh?" says Leska thoughtfully. "New meat...Fun. I should--<span style="font-style: italic">oh!</span>" She is interrupted by sensations from her lumpy abdomen; the elf imprisoned within still harbors the illusion that if he only pushes hard enough, he will somehow avoid the grisly fate that is presently oozing from the walls around him. But the only result of his renewed shouting and struggling is a moan of predatory pleasure from the drider. "<span style="font-style: italic">Mmmmmm</span>, yes... <3 that's it, boy..." She wraps her arms around her belly and affectionately rubs her restless prey through the tight walls. "Keep squirming. Just like that..."<br/><br/>Though not a pred himself, the grinning Gurst watches the drider's sadistic display with heated interest.<span style="font-size: 84%; line-height: 116%;">{{he's a vorarephile x3 big surprise}}</span><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;&lt;other side of the room&gt;&gt;</span><br/>"So, sxiteen-hundred for a night." says Jess. She looks around and tries to divide 1600 by the number of people, but she can't remember who is and isn't paying and it quickly becomes too much mental arithmetic for her. "Uh...well I'm putting in...two-hundred." She opens her belt-pouch and produces a Jejunian trade bar* plus a handful of gold and silver pieces. She starts to count the coins out, then looks up sheepishly. "I mean, one-forty. I'm putting in one-forty."<br/><span style="font-size: 84%; line-height: 116%;">{{*-small ingot with a portrait of Gyriax stamped onto the front and the seal of Jejuna stamped into the reverse; equivalent to 100 gp}}</span><br/><br/>"What? Are you broke<span style="font-style: italic">again</span>?" says Soma. "What happened to all that prize money?"<br/><br/>"I got hungry and thirsty, that's what happened. And that efreet Sapheine don't work for cheap you know." Jess looks down at her shiny new top.<br/><br/>"Girl, you need to learn about a thing called frugality." says Soma as she counts out two hundred of her own gold.<br/><br/>"Nuu! >_<" objects Jess "I need more money is what I need!" She tosses a few silver pieces back into her bag and gathers the rest into a pile on her lap. Then, noticing Takal's facial reaction to her words, she chuckles. "Man...I don't think I could ever do your vow. I love stuff, and stuff costs money...If I were poor, I'd go crazy..."