Trouble In The Inn

Trent glanced to his right at the female's gesture. He certainly didn't like the way she evaded the conversation. Perhaps the Orb of Permanence was too powerful to be spoken about, or maybe she feared for her life if such information slipped from her mouth. Trent scorned inwardly and took a look at the creature she was presenting.

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of an Elvarian female who had just revealed herself. She was wearing a brown split dress that flowed elegantly around her, the fabric hugging her sexy, alluring curves and providing graceful openings for her reflective thighs. Trent noticed that all the indigenes in the bar were staring, both males and females. Perhaps it was because Elvarian females were rarely whores, and if one was, it would come at a very high price.

Trent hadn't fully realized the diversity of this world when he was attaching his game to it. He had come across a few elves and dwarves with the interface and high technological systems, but he hadn't bothered making contact.

The elf walked with steady allure and confidence, and even at such a slow pace, Trent noticed her K-cup breasts hardly remained in place, as the straps of her dress only shielded her nipples. Her thighs were so thick, they vibrated as she approached, and he could only imagine how fat her ass might be. /img./

"Sire, this is Ascezeca. A young, fine elf, bearing no last name. A very rare one indeed," the minotaur spoke.

Trent's eyes lingered on her breasts, and he thought he could feel their warmth. The elf stood obediently with her legs together and fingers interlocked, her arms cupping her cleavage. Trent slowly rose to his feet, watching her green split pupils follow his ascent until he towered over her.

"What do you say, Sire?" The minotaur inquired.

The sexual stimulation that the goddess had instilled in him seemed to be returning once again. After all, he hadn't been satisfied and was left with blue balls. Seeing this young elf with short, brown silk hair matching her brown skin and attire, Trent admitted to himself that he could no longer hold back his urges.

He wondered if the indigenes of Paradox counted their age, and if they did, how old this elf might be. He also wondered if certain boundaries from his world were upheld here as well.

Trent reached for her sidearm and ran his fingers down, expecting her to flinch with sensation, but she didn't. Her alluring eyes were the only things moving, while the rest of her body remained still and submissive. 'Well trained,' Trent thought to himself as his hand travelled to her back to grab what she was packed with behind.

His fingers trailed down the curvature of her waist, and upon reaching the end where he could feel a protrusion, Trent gulped, widening his hand span and grabbing the soft flesh.

'Oh my....Christ! What is this world?!' Trent thought as he fondled her rump. The ogres and other males could only salivate, knowing they were never financially capable of affording such a luxury. Trent doubled his grasp with his other hand, pulling and massaging it.  'It feels just like the goddess'! Perhaps, it's as big as the goddess'!

Trent glanced at the minotaur. "I'll take her," he said. "How much?"

"Sire?! You have already gifted us 100 times her price!" 

'Ohhh.' A happy smile spread across Trent's unseen face as he returned his gaze to the elf, who was still looking up at him expectantly. "You are mine now, Ascezeca. Do you hear that?" Trent whispered to her, and she nodded slowly in a dutiful manner.

"Vortaal!" "Vortaal!" "Vortaal!"

The deep, resonating chant of the male indigenes abruptly came to a stop as the inn's door creaked open and the chime of a bell echoed through the room. Everyone, including Trent—who still hadn't let go of the elf's ass—glanced in the direction of the door. It wasn't just the arrival that caught their attention; it was the overwhelming presence of Mana radiating from the new entrants that everyone could feel.

A group of figures tramped into the room and stood at the doorway. Some were bulky, some short, while two shared humanoid features. But they were all dressed in midnight blue suits, almost like armour—except for the figure in the middle, who seemed to be the leader, dressed in a darker armour, almost black.

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Group: Darth Sentinels {Group 42}

Role: To maintain orderliness and serenity in Paradox outskirts/ prevent indigene and gamer encounters.

Head: Darth Lieutenant

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Silence enveloped the inn, and Trent had to turn fully, reluctantly leaving the elf's rump to take a good look at the newcomers. The one dressed in darker armour was a devil; her curvaceous figure was unmistakable beneath the body-hugging attire. Her tail must have been wrapped in, as Trent couldn't see it swaying around. 'Look at those milk jugs!'

Behind her large hips were a few figures: an elf male with his arms crossed behind his back, two huge ogres, and one dwarf. They were all dressed menacingly in matching attire and looked quite regal compared to the denizens in the inn.

"Pardon me, Martry. But shall we know the purpose of such a visit?" The male minotaur had just emerged once again after the surge of new Mana had enveloped the inn.

The devil's black eyes scanned the inn, finally settling on Trent. Her gaze remained fixed on him as she spoke. "The Darth Society has decreed that no fear shall be brought to human gamers. Attacking them within the gaming maps is strictly forbidden," she proclaimed. "But earlier these hours, one of the victors of a Battle Royale was assaulted. On behalf of the Circle, I issue this warning again: any indigene caught harassing human gamers will face severe and certain death."

"They are the ones harassing us!" an ogre yelled from behind. He must have mustered enough courage to do so, because others quickly rallied to his cause.

"Those are our maps! Our world!"

"We do not listen to any Darth Society; we serve our Beasts!"

"You traitors! You are denizens as well!"

"The human gamers should materialize away as they come!"

"Siiiiiilennnnce!" The tall elf behind the devil bellowed in a deep, masculine tone. "You must be aware that speech against the Darth results in death as well."

Trent, intrigued by the sudden unravelling of events, began to [read] the elf and the devil. He [read] the elf as follows:

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Name: Stutt-Thenone

Race: Elvarian

Role: Darth Lieutenant

Manifestations: Three

Beasts Tamed: None

Essenced equipments: None

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'Darth Lieutenant? I thought the she-devil is the leader,' he said to himself as he proceeded to [read] the devil.

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Name: Zhen-Nis

Race: Infernian

Role: Darth Assassin

Manifestations: Fifteen -·-ππ-·-

Beasts Tamed: None

Essenced equipments: One

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'What? She's a Darth Assassin as well? System? What's those two badges next to her Manifestations?'

[It shows she is an experienced Essence channeller, ranked {Supreme}]

"And you, fellow Darth, identify yourself and state your purpose for visiting this inn in the outskirts," the devil demanded, snapping him out of his System thoughts.