Disclaimer: All characters are 18 or older. The characters in the story are exceptionally endowed. If you're not a fan of that, perhaps you should look elsewhere.
Excellia, Villeta, and Kargon are original characters belonging to Ashraam, used at his request.
*****
Excellia reflected silently on how much she hated her job.
It had been a little more than a season since the amazon princess had abandoned her homeland and departed the jungles of Lak'Tathion. She'd left to seek strength in the wider world, to face great challenges and overcome them, to earn glory and respect among her people. But the wider world had proven to be utterly disappointing. It had been nothing but one foul-smelling barbarian town after another, performing menial tasks for a handful of the metal coins they used for currency. At this rate, she would be a wizened crone before she had even a single trophy worth any real honor.
Looking inward, she cursed fate for trapping her in such a frail body. True enough, compared to the women of these barbarians, she was a goddess. Like all her amazonian sisters her skin gleamed bronze in the morning sunlight. Her long, wavy crimson hair cascaded down her back in a burning waterfall, all the way to the small of her back. She stood eye to eye with most of the barbarian menfolk, and every inch of her body was covered in toned, lithe muscle. Well, almost every inch. She was undeniably woman, with a shapely pair of orange-sized breasts and an undeniable curve to her hips. Her traveling outfit did nothing to conceal her glorious physique, originally consisting of nothing more than a wide cloth band threaded between her muscular thighs and held around the waist by a sturdy leather belt that bore furry pouches on the front and back, and the leather strap harness that held her mighty two-handed axe tight to her back. She'd added a wide, fitted cloth band over her breasts when the stares of the barbarian menfolk became intolerable.
But as lovely and powerful as she was compared to these women, compared to other amazons, particularly her sisters, she was pathetic. They loomed over her, almost seven feet tall, setting the redhead at eye-level with their full, jiggling, cantaloupe-sized orbs. While she strained and trained her body with almost every spare moment, her sisters were effortlessly muscular, bearing thick slabs of shredded muscle on every limb. As if fate was not cruel enough, her sisters never passed up an opportunity to rub their superiority in their youngest sibling's face, easily defeating her at any sport or challenge she could think of. She'd suffered under their cruel taunts and mockery for her entire life, her rage simmering with each passing moon that failed to deliver her the body she so longed for. She had the heart of a true warrior, and she longed for glory, but her body seemed destined to ruin her aspirations.
The greatest amazonian warriors, those whose great and glorious deeds inspired tales and songs that were repeated in celebration for many generations, were said to be incredibly powerful. Strong enough to crush the skulls of their enemies between their thighs, strong enough to behead fearsome monsters with a single stroke of an axe, strong enough to crush stone and bend steel with their bare hands. She'd always been captivated by such heroic women, she memorized all the greatest tales and songs. She wanted nothing more in all the realms than to become a warrior strong enough to inspire such legends, to become a great amazon. But as her coming of age came and went and her hopes of a sudden growth spurt died, she became desperate for some way to tip the scales in her favor, to gain an edge. There was one thing the warriors of legend all had in common. They all had left the jungles and found strength and glory in the world beyond. It was a crazy idea, yes, but it seemed her only hope. Of course, she might never have had the courage to go through with it if she hadn't lost her temper during a spat with her sisters and allowed herself to be goaded into making a hasty oath to do it. By the sacred laws of the amazons, an oath was a very serious commitment. She was left with two options, one, to go through with the oath and either succeed or die trying, or two, have her honor stripped from her and be exiled in disgrace.
But to her ever-growing disappointment, the land beyond the jungles was not some thrilling wilderness where adventure and danger were part of everyday life. It was almost painfully dull, in fact, all the land she'd seen thus far was boring expanses of farms and grasslands, punctuated by the occasional town, or even more rarely, a real city. There seemed to be no challenges to be found here worthy of honor among the amazons. She'd sworn to herself she'd find some sort of task worthy of her attentions after her last quest had put her in a stinking sewer, hacking the tails off enormous, mutant rats. But when her meager reward had been spent, she had been left with no choice but to take another menial task for the promised reward.
This time, she had been charged with the chore of retrieving stolen good from the kobolds inhabiting the Dam-Kobol mine outside of town. According to the man who'd charged her with the task, the mine was actually named for its founders, Daniel Kobol and Richard Dam. It's common name had been changed to the 'Damn Cobalt' mine by some bitter, unemployed miners when the veins it had been built to follow were fouled by Cobalt deposits. Then, once again, the name had changed to the 'Damn Kobold' mine after a warren of the small, scaly creatures had breached into it from below and rapidly moved in to occupy every nook and cranny. It seemed whenever the kobold numbers reached a certain threshold, their subterranean supply lines were unable to support their numbers, and they were forced to start raiding nearby settlements to make up the difference.
And so here she was, staring at the entrance to the mines. She'd been promised a gold piece for every kobold she slew, plus the value of any supplies she retrieved and the profits from any other items or materials she could retrieve from the mines. She sighed softly, and tugged at the rope harness attached to the rented mule that hauled a now-empty cart, pulling the beast toward a weathered hitching post by the mine's entrance. The gave the beast a pat on the side of the neck as she tied the harness to the post, then turned to the archway leading into the mine. She reached behind her, undoing the buckles that held her heavy axe on her back and bringing it to bear, hands tightening on the red leather grip, broad, arcing blades gleaming. She hoped she'd be able to at least enjoy the task a bit. At least there was real fighting involved, it had been too long since last she'd drawn blood.
She crept into the mine cautiously, advancing with short steps, keeping her eyes peeled as she entered. Immediately, she could see the evidence of kobold habitation. Tiny sleeping chambers crudely hacked into the stone walls, honeycombed to accommodate as many as possible at a time. Piles of garbage in the corners. Racks of mining equipment, crudely modified to accommodate tiny kobold hands. But as she passed passage after passage, she found no kobolds. Even the traps the kobolds were so famous for were apparently inactive. Perhaps that was the trap? To lure adventurers in, then activate the traps and leave them with no method of escape? No... the tiny, scaly beasts were cowardly, they wouldn't want to trap themselves in with an angry adventurer...
It took her a moment to realize the dull thumping she was hearing in the silent tunnels wasn't her own heartbeat. No... it was drums. Finally, some sign of her prey. She listened carefully at each intersection of tunnels, following the echoing, distant sound at each turn. The sound grew louder as she got closer, and she found her heartbeat mirroring it, stepping faster and faster as her excitement grew. She was getting closer and closer to the source. Soon, she could hear a chorus of voices, a rhythmic chant spoken in the kobold's harsh, hissing dialect of draconic, thousands of voices as one. She felt her lips curl into a wicked grin. Her anticipation grew. What would she find when she came upon the source of the sounds? Some manner of gathering, obviously, but what? A ceremony to some dark god from the depths? A celebration of some foul accomplishment? A ritual with cruel intent? The sound still grew, louder and louder, and her pace continued to quicken. Could there be something truly dangerous at work in these mines? If she could be the one to stop it, that would certainly be a glorious achievement. A fitting start to her legends, perhaps. Soon the sounds were all but deafening, a roar that echoed and amplified through the stony tunnels, matched only by the sound of her pulse, adrenaline surging with each beat as she prepared for glorious battle.
Finally, she rounded a beam and spotted the first one of the little beasts. It had its back to her, facing an archway opening onto some massive cavern. It was clad in rags, the simple garments draped over its scrawny, bony frame, its rusty-red scales dull and lacking luster. Its snout was hanging open as it chanted, pumping a fist into the air, its attention clearly rapt on whatever was happening on the far side of that arch. She barely paused in her swift strides, her mighty axe coming across low and quieting the chorus by one voice. Her grin grew wider. First blood in a battle was always a heady rush. A lone amazon warrior against an army of lizard creatures. Surely that was worth a telling or two.
