“By the Gods, I’m booooored” exclaimed Cyllia, before chugging the last of the ale in her stein and then slamming it down on to the table with forceful frustration. This loud proclamation and ensuing thud went completely unnoticed by everyone in the Slumbering Minotaur Inn, as it was peak hours of the night and every adventurer, sell-sword, bard, lady of the night, do-gooder, up-to-no-gooder and cursed spirit in the place was being equally loud and getting equally drunk.

Chief among those people who were ignoring Cyllia (or trying their best to ignore her, at least) was the stoic, cloaked man sitting across from her at the table. His head was down, the hood of his emerald green cloak was drawn up and cast a long dark shadow over his gruff, bearded face. Cyllia's long elfin ears twitched in anger at not receiving the attention she was accustomed to and reached out to pull her drinking partner's hood from off of his face. The man would not abide this though, and with cat-like reflexes snatched the elf's milky-white, thin, but surprisingly strong wrist from the air like it were a bothersome fly.

Without even looking at the elf, the man spoke, his voice deep, and rough like footsteps on crushed gravel “Dammit Lia, I told you to cut that shit out.”

“But Armnir! I’m... booooorreeed!” she said, sounding more like a petulant human toddler than a 173 year old wood elf. “Besides, you look like the BIGGEST douchebag. We’re indoors dummy, pull your hood down. Finish your ale and then order two more! Fuggin' smile or something!”

“It hides my identity from the forces of evil. And ale dulls the senses, I must be ready in case of the first sign of danger.” Armnir spat in response, clearly unable to resist the elf’s well laid bait. “Something you would do well to replicate.”

“Omigod! We raid one bandit camp for some farmers in butt-fuck nowhere, and clear one barely-out-of-the-nest hippogriff from the path to Mollenuir...

(“It had the talons of a fully grown adult.” Armnir sulkily interjected under his breath.)

“...and you start thinking you’re the world’s greatest sell-sword.” Said Cyllia, snatching back her arm and rubbing the area where the brutish man had taken hold of it. “Wake up and read the guild message boards, dumb-dumb. No-one here knows who the fuck we are!”

Armnir, ego clearly bruised, took a small sip from his nearly full stein and pulled his hood down further over his eyes, mumbling something about deserving more respect.

“Anyway, it hardly matters if you get a little loose for one night.” Cyllia continued, flicking a small bang of her long silver hair from her fringe and excitedly peering around the room. “Kor’eth will be back soon, and he said he’d return with a quest that was a sure thing!”

“He better,” grumbled Armnir “He hasn’t pulled his weight since we took him on. ‘Never trust an orc', that’s what my Gammy always told me. She said 'Armnir, there’s five things you need to learn if you’re going to carry on the family legacy, number one, alw...”

Cyllia let her partner’s voice trail off, as she tuned him out, a skill she had become increasingly good at. Frankly, if she had to hear one more story about his fucking ‘Gammy’, she would gladly cast off her elfin immortality and shuffle loose this mortal coil.

Just as she was becoming satisfied she had time to order another drink and maybe even start sowing the seeds she had planted earlier with that hulking centaur who was working behind the bar tonight, Cyllia saw the door to the tavern open once again and in through it strode the familiar dark grey skin and shredded, hulking torso of their orc companion, Kor'eth. The already tall elf jumped onto her stool, now towering high above the sightline of the crowded bar, and was just about to wave her companion over when the sight of what was clutched in the orc’s hand made her eyes widen and took the friendly greeting from her mouth.

“Oh Jesus, he didn’t.” Said the elf.

“Who? What are you talking about? Is it Kor'eth, what has he done now!?” said Armnir, standing up to get a better view of the door. “Oh my Gods, is that...”

“Did he buy...?”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“A fucking slave-girl!?”

“Hey guys!” boomed the voice of Kor'eth from across the tavern floor, a massive shit-eating grin plastered across his square, tusked jaw. One hand was raised in an over enthusiastic wave, and the other was sure enough clutching a silver chain that dangled loosely, on the other end of which was a collared, young, sullen, barely clothed girl. With a tug on the chain he beckoned her to follow him to where his fellow adventurers were standing “Check it out! I got a great deal!”

Cyllia jumped down from the stool and stood there speechless, unsure exactly what to make of this new turn of events. Armnir, on the other hand, looked ready to commit orcicide. With hands that were practically trembling with rage, he lowered his hood to reveal steel grey eyes that screamed bloody murder. “You told us... you were going out... to get... a QUEST!”

“Aww, quest-schmest!” replied Kor'eth with a wave of his free hand “This is WAY cooler, she does anything you tell her!”

“That’s not the point Ko- wait, anything? Really!?” said Cyllia, finding herself momentarily distracted by the numerous possibilities.

'anything' mouthed Kor'eth in large exaggerated fashion.

“Oh damn the both of you, that’s not the point!” shouted Armnir, slamming his fist onto the table for emphasis “We barely even have enough money to feed and clothe ourselves, what the fuck are we gonna do with a slave-girl! Did you think about that? What about when we leave town, where is she gonna sleep?”

“Oh that’s easy,” replied Kor with a wink “she’s gonna sleep on mah dick!”

Cyllia laughed, Armnir roared. “Imbeciles! I’m partied with imbeciles! What is she going to eat? How will we feed her!?”

“Oh, funny you should ask,” replied the orc “I’mma feed her mah d-”

“Don’t! Say! It!” yelled the human, cutting off Kor'eth who had now begun to gyrate and thrust his hips in long, incredibly unattractive motions, making little “unf, hng” sounds to punctuate the movements.

While Armnir continued to yell and Kor continued to thrust, Cyllia had turned her attention to the slave girl. She was gorgeous. Young, practically untainted aside from some poorly healed lash marks that adorned her thighs and back. She was, in fact, far too good of a slave for Cyllia's idiot partner to be able to afford. Cyllia began to check the girl over, looking for a catch, trying to decide why exactly someone would part with her. Until finally, on her inner thigh, partially obscured by the shredded cloth skirt the girl wore, she saw it.

“Uhh, Kor.” Cyllia said, her voice now closer to a loud whisper, suddenly not wanting to attract any undue attention from the other patrons in the inn. Kor'eth however, was still in a back and forth dispute with Armnir. “Guys, listen the fuck up!” Cyllia said, walking between them and slapping the back of both their heads “We have a problem.”

“I know! I’ve been saying that since he walked in!” yelled Armnir.

“No, not the fucking food and lodging, Armnir, get over it. And keep your voice down.” She replied, huddling in closer to the pair “Like...we have, an actual problem.”

“What is it?” said Kor'eth beginning to actually worry that he had screwed up worse than usual on this one.

“Kor, did you...y'know, check this girl before you bought her?” whispered Cyllia

“You know it!” he replied with a wink “Once before I bought her, once on the way over here.”

“What? No! Ugh. Gross. I mean, did you check her body and shit, like, her actual skin.”

“Well, I dunno, I think so?”

“What are you getting at, Lia.” Interjected Armnir, beginning to realise where this might be headed

“She’s branded, guys.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh fuck. Don’t tell me.”

“Yeah,” continued the elf “Her thigh. MK. You know, as in Malor Keth. As in, darkest of the dark magicians. As in, rip your skeleton out through your mouth and fuck your asshole with your femur. That kind of brand.”

The three of them stood there speechless for a few moments, not an ounce of colour in either of their faces, until finally, Armnir calmly turned to Cyllia, “Lia, if it’s all fine by you, I might take the next couple minutes to beat the ever-loving shit out of our companion here.”

“By all means.”

“Guys, please,” said Kor, “I didn’t know, I sw-oof” But as promised, Armnir had pounced onto him, unable to actually topple the large orc so instead clambering over him like a spider monkey and raining down ineffective blows onto every square inch of flesh he could.

“We are so fucked.” Said Cyllia, taking one last look at the young slave before heading back to the bar to order many... many more drinks.

So I’ve never had luck getting this off the ground before and I think it’s because it seems so established already. But honestly, nothing about it is set in stone and this was always just a bit of a creative writing prompt that showcased the kind of fantasy RP I would like to work on. So whether you enjoy any of the pre-existing characters, want to add more of your own, or would prefer to start fresh, feel free to shoot me a message and hopefully we can work on something together!

Limits: bathroom stuff, snuff (death is fine, just no fetishised killings etc.), extreme gore/vore, underage characters, feet. If it’s not one of those, I’m probably open to it or into it.