[pre-story]Content Warnings: Unrealistic anatomy, huge cock, interracial (human/elf), romance.
Disclaimer: All characters are 18+[/pre-story]
Partners
The Sultry Sorceress Tavern was packed, tonight. It was rarely all that quiet, but tonight, the handful of townsfolk that were regulars found themselves amid a crowd of at least a dozen outsiders, strangers of strange descriptions. A mature, full-figured beauty with long, flowing dark hair tended the bar, pouring and mixing drinks one after another, just barely managing to keep up with the orders coming in. A trio of buxom barmaids bustled around the room bearing trays full of drinks and empty mugs, all three dark-haired and bearing a striking resemblance to the bartender, even the halfling. A gnome with unnaturally colorful hair and tie-dyed robes had climbed up to sit on the edge of the stage where the local bard played, a pint in one hand as he sang along with surprising skill, though his words had a bit of a slur to them. A muscular, heavily-scarred orc wearing what looked like alligator hide leaned against a wall, arms crossed under her impressive emerald bust as she eyed one of the human barmaids wolfishly. A dwarf in flowing silk robes sat at the bar, looking painfully bored a snifter of brandy in one hand. Beside him, three humans argued emphatically about weapons, the dark-skinned bald man with a braided goatee touting the sheer power of a hammer, the fair-skinned blonde woman with her hair in a bun extolling the virtues of a fine blade in well-trained hands, and the freckle-faced male with curly copper hair claiming spears to be severely underrated.
The bartender stepped up to the group of humans, setting a pitcher of mead and a bottle of wine in front of the redhead. The man grinned, a broad, bright white smile, fishing out some gold and silver coins and slid them across the bar. He grabbed the bottle in one hand and the pitcher in the other, gave his fellow warriors a parting nod, rose from his seat, and began to make his way across the tavern. Gordon LiRousa certainly stuck out in the crowd, weaving around tables and chairs with surprising grace, he looked a bit lanky at first glance, a head taller than any other human in the place, with a crown of curly copper hair that stood out like a beacon. He was about as tall as an orc, but not as stocky, his limbs long, almost gangly even, if it weren't for the thick muscle built up on them. His fair skin was dusted liberally with cinnamon freckles, but free of scars and wrinkles, with, along with his usual playful attitude, made him seem more like an overgrown teenager than a man in his late twenties. He made his way over to a small table against the wall where his ebony-hafted spear sat, propped against the wall, his bag and armor already locked away upstairs in his room. He fell into the chair with a thump, still grinning broadly, setting his precious cargo down on the table with a thump and swiftly moving to pour himself a mug of mead. "Nothing better than a warm bed and good drink after a long quest, huh, L?" He asked, clearly pleased as he raised his mug to his lips and took a deep drink, emerald eyes flicking up to look across the table.
Elirel Baum-Paril smiled as he arrived, quickly moving to uncork the wine and pour herself a glass of the deep red liquid. She was a good bit shorter than her adventuring partner, about eye-level to his chest, though of perfectly average height for an elf, as she reminded him whenever he made a short joke or rested an elbow on her head. She was a bit thinner than most, admittedly, with narrow ribs and somewhat slender hips. But her size was no reason to underestimate her strength, her toned, wiry muscles and gently-sculpted abs were clearly evident beneath her warm brown skin. She was a practical sort of girl, in the end, so she made the practical choices. So, while she'd rather let her long, silky, platinum-blonde hair flow freely in the wind as she fought, she did the practical thing and gathered it into a single thick braid that hung down to the small of her back so as to keep it under control. While she disliked it, she did the practical thing and bound her already modest breasts so she could use her bow properly. And while Gordon shed his armor at every opportunity, she did the practical thing and kept her suit of fitted mail-and-chain armor on and her bow within reach until she went to bed. Maybe she ended up looking a little bit overly serious, or boyish, but she didn't mind... much... In the end, she was still alive, and she'd kept Gordon alive, too. She shook her head, bright blue eyes looking up from her glass and glancing across the table at Gordon. "It certainly hits the proverbial spot." She replied to his mostly-rhetorical question.
Gordon's grin was even wider as he slammed the now-empty mug down on the table with a thump. "Ah~..." He sighed with pleasure at the the taste of cold mead after so long, clearly pleased. "And what a quest! We're on fire lately!" He exclaimed, suddenly, then chuckled. "Or, at least, the bad guys are. I loved that trick with the two arrows at once! What spells were those carrying, grease and firebolt? And the timing was perfect! Right as the boss was ready to do the sacrifice, fwoosh! Up in flames!" He commented, gesturing an explosion, then chuckling again. "And then all the rest of the ogres are just freaking out, thinking it's divine wrath or something! Fucking. Priceless."
Elirel raised her glass of wine, swirling it once or twice before bringing it up to her lips and taking a sip, eyes closed to properly savor it. When she opened her eyes again, she looked back across the table with a subtle smile. "Credit where credit is due. You put on quite the display yourself, once they realized what was happening. It's no simple feat to hold the line against a whole cult of angry ogres." She replied. "And, I might be wrong, but I believe I saw you channeling in battle, as well! Not many can focus like that surrounded by combat, let alone while actively fighting. Very impressive." She added, offering her partner a nod of respect. "I'd have been overrun for certain if you hadn't been there. I shudder to think what might have happened if I'd been captured..." She muttered, shaking her head.
Gordon puffed his chest, striking a heroic pose, grinning proudly, before relaxing into his chair once more, chuckling and shaking his head. "Ah, being eaten isn't so bad. Remember the deepwyrm? It's mostly just dark and smelly. Nothing to worry about."
Elirel rolled her eyes. "I imagine it's a different story when the eater chews their food. Still, I'm not terribly concerned about getting eaten, I'm more worried about the stories of orc farms." She replied, giving a shudder. "What a fate that would be..."
Gordon shook his head, his expression a bit more somber. "Yeah... Thankfully, they only keep women. Most tribes consider it shameful for an ogre woman to birth anything less than a full-blooded ogre, so there's no point in keeping male prisoners. They just eat them."
Elirel blinked, looking across the table blankly, confusion creeping into her expression. What part wasn't he getting? "...Yes, and, I would hate for it to happen to me." She clarified, slowly.
