<div class="floatleft">(http://orig00.deviantart.net/065f/f/2017/187/5/9/august01_by_ravagedgirl-dbfdsq3.jpg)</div><em><sup><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Location: Lone table<br/>Company: Elora<br/>Approachability: Busy with failing a spot check. </span></sup></em><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Since the first moment she'd spent over here, August's mind had fumbled into turmoil trying to figure out the reason for her sudden interest. It had not occurred to him that it could be something straightforward. Had any of the backhanded deals the Red Band had cut anytime in the past come back to haunt him? Why him, then, and not the others? He had entirely failed to notice one of the barmaids stripping in the background, at least for the next few seconds as he was dedicated to his, uh, guest at the table.<br/><br/>With that dedication came a punishing clarity for details; The way her eyes seemed to smolder, the straining of her garments from just typical movements, the angle from which he could probably see up her skirt if she moved her foot on his thigh just a little higher; Large, heaving breasts barely held back like a horde of orcs behind a buckling portcullis. If said portcullis was seconds away from splitting in half down the middle.<br/><br/>Funny how easy he noticed things when he started an analytical approach. This time around it only seemed to hurt his ability to keep composure: Because like any youth who had come of age, filled to the brim with vigor, virility, and energy, that flimsy tolerance for keeping it in check failed. August had averted his eyes from the woman's bountiful cleavage, but the damage was done. The young mage was acutely aware of something swelling, thickening, leaving a lengthy impression between his legs and making a bulge in his robes. There was a futile hope that, since the well-endowed woman was looking at his book instead of him, she wouldn't notice. But it was fleeting as his "problem" grew, and that hope reduced to a glimmer of dropped coins floating down into the black of the ocean depths, swallowed and gone. All she had to do was look in his direction, and it would be obvious.<br/><br/>It was then that he looked up, and could swear that his heart had seized. One glance at the head barmaid baring it all gave him context, and his questions slammed together, giving him his answer. He might have been naive in some regards, but even August could catch a hint if it came in the form of a fucking anvil falling on his head.<br/><br/><em>Tavern of Kneeling Wenches...wait...Kneeling for...<br/><br/>I do feel that if you play your cards right, you may leave out of here a changed man, Warren said before leaving him be, abruptly.<br/><br/>Then Chariss winking at him earlier, Enjoy yourselves and someone will be with you as soon as they can for a bit more lively entertainment.<br/><br/>...son of a--fuck--<br/><br/>DAMN IT, HILDE.</em><br/><br/>For a few seconds he blushed madly as he figured it out, face turning redder by the second as he had finally discovered what kind of Tavern he had just sat down in. In less than thirty seconds he was trapped in his chair with a steel hard-on that you could bludgeon someone with. How could he have been this easily... bamboozled? Hoodwinked?<em>Hornswoggled?</em>Should have known he'd been sent somewhere quirky and flirty...it was definitely not a brothel, but something more...intimate? August didn't know. All he knew was that the woman next to him hadn't even given her name, and she had a melodic lilt to her voice that made his cock twitch, and he recognized it as magical in nature. To some degree, it was...relaxing.<br/><br/><strong>"O-other than potions? I've done some herbal medicines before...some recreational mixtures too...I uh..."</strong>His arousal was a touch distracting.<strong>"have made a few exotic oils as well. Some merchants pay well for them all, provided I find them."</strong><br/><br/>August metaphorically stood his ground. As flustered as he was, he was not going to run from this. Maybe it was the parting words of advice a stranger had offered him, or maybe the fact that he wanted to stick it to his crew-mate rival that there were things he<em>could</em>do. Or maybe he wanted to have a clear head as he plotted some form of vengeful prank. Or maybe it was knowing that there was no chance of calming himself down by fleeing, not after what he had just seen. Either way, he was in for the long run.<br/><br/><strong>"Uh, I-I am being rude, forgive me; I am August Brightmoor. Traveler and sell-sword mage...May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"</strong><br/><br/>He was looking her in the eye, with valiant effort to keep his gaze from wandering the way it so<em>desperately</em>wanted to.