The Tale of the Nemorvian Band
Preface: "On Nemorvians" an excerpt from "Adlar Ashton's Guide to Alaria"
The Nemorvians are one of the strangest races in all of Alaria. To begin with there are only female Nemorvians, male Nemorvians do not exist. Impregnating them is hard, something that adds pleasantly to the life most lead (but more on that later). If one does manage to get pregnant the child will always be female and always be a full-blooded Nemorvian.
Physically they are about as humanoid as most other races in Alaria. Their basic shape is like that of a Human female, although they tend to be of a much thicker build than the average Human or Common Elve. Their skin is generally a shade of copper brown that looks much like that of a common brown cow, although the exact shade and coloration varies. This is only one of the physical features the Nemorvians share in common with these bovine beasts. They also have small cow-like horns while their ears are slightly larger than a Human's, with the way they extended making them look nearly bovine in nature.
Yet it is not their horns or strange animalistic ears most notice first when encountering a Nemorvian, it is their breasts. They all have thick, heavy, overlarge breasts with many members of the race having breasts so large that they seem unnatural. What's more, every Nemorvian lactates for their entire life once they reach sexual maturity. This milk is highly sought after. It tastes delicious but this is not the reason it is so valued. If ingested by a male it will immediately make them hard and horny as well as giving a small burst of energy similar to what one feels when drinking a reinvigoration potion.
This is one of the reasons that most Nemorvians spend their lives as whores. Aside from their desirable large breasts their milk can make any man hard and ready to fuck even if he has just ejaculated. This means that if a man has the inkling, and the coin, he can fuck a Nemorvian till he is physically exhausted.
There is another reason that most Nemorvians live their lives as prostitutes. Each one, no matter how strongly willed, seems unable to resist a man's member when it is erect. The mere sight of it will turn each Nemorvian into a drooling, mindless, horny, meek bimbo willing to do whatever they are told as long as the act is sexual in nature.
Most Nemorvian's live their lives happily as whores, valued members of brothels or as personal slaves to some of the richest or most powerful in Alaria. But there are a few stronger-willed Nemorvians who try to lead a different kind of life. Some take up lives as priestesses as part of a religion that is sexual centered, most normally Oohr or Ynara worship. Some rare few are known to try to take up the life of an Adventurer while there are even whispers of some becoming bandits with the hope of "saving" their enslaved sisters.
But where did these Nemorvians come from? No one is certain, but recorded history makes it clear that they were not always present in Alaria. Certainly before the Great Collapse there was no record of them.
There is one legend of their race's origin that many put stock in, although the details vary depending on the source. Regardless, here is the legend in its most basic form: The Nemorvians were originally the female population of a large city-state or small kingdom. At one point a group of their women did something that insulted the goddess Ynara. The goddess of large breasts was left so angered that she cursed their entire population, transforming the women into the beings we now know as Nemorvians and making it so their bloodline would never again have men in it.
If this legend is true it's an odd thing that so many Nemorvians now worship Ynara. Perhaps enough time has gone by that even they don't remember the curse that created them, or perhaps the curse laid upon them by the goddess of large breasts has left a lingering need to worship the one that made them what they are. Most likely only the gods know if this legend is true, but as with all things I hope to one day discover the truth as I continue to research the hidden history of our world.
Chapter One: Bandit Attack
Nowlen Drezen sat in his carriage; the expensive curtains drawn as he casually ate pistachios and read the latest edition of Adlar Ashton's Guide to Alaria. "Hmph," he grumbled as he finished a passage in the chapter on the races of Alaria. "Adlar really has gone mad. To claim that some of the fat-uddered cows known as Nemorvians try to live lives other than that of a whore? Preposterous!"
The attractive, young noble was on his way to the city of Iphasea, the capital of the small kingdom of the same name. His family had business there with the king and he had been dispatched to conduct it.
Looking up from his book Nowlen thought on this. "About time Father starts entrusting the family business to me. As the first born it was always my birthright to take over from him. And now that he's getting older, well..." He let the thought hang in the air, not needing to finish it. All of his brothers knew their father grew less formidable with every year that passed. They all knew it was well past time for one of them to take over the family business, they just needed to make the stubborn old man see this self-evident truth.
The carriage started to slow, irking Nowlen. He had told his coachman that he wanted to be at Iphasea before sundown and that he expected him to make good time on this journey. Angrily he leaned forward and opened the small window that looked out onto the high seat the coachman and the guard next to him sat on. "Why are we slowing?" he demanded.
"Sorry my Lord," the coachmen, also the leader of Nowlen's guard on this trip, replied. "But I don't like the looks of the stretch of the road up ahead. T'would be the perfect place for an ambush by bandits. The road curves and the forest here is very thick with large branches hanging overhead. Archers could perch up there and--"
"And you're just being paranoid!" Nowlen growled. "I know you're paid to protect me, but really, you think a band of cowardly bandits are going to attack us? You're both heavily armed and there are two more guards sitting on the back of the carriage. Father insisted on so many of you coming with me that I had hardly any room for my things!"
"But ser--"
"No, enough," Nowlen snapped. "We must be to Iphasea before sundown. Now get a move on!"
With a huff of annoyance the young noble slammed the little window closed and threw his body back into his seat. In the process he dropped his book. Cursing, he leaned down to pick it back up just as the carriage picked up speed. "Stupid commoners, always incompetently troublesome. And look, the fool has made me lose my spot!" After picking the book back up he started to flip through its pages. "Dwarves, no, Bunordaens, no, Night Elves, no. Ah, here we are, Nemorvians."
Having found his place he turned the page but before he could start reading the next passage he heard a sudden scream of pain followed immediately by the carriage veering off to one side. The young noble was jostled almost out of his seat as the carriage careened wildly. He expected the carriage to slow down, assuming at first that it had run over a large rock or a small, downed tree. But to his great surprise he felt the carriage speed up and could hear the coachman shouting for the horses to go faster.
Except, he realized, it wasn't the coachman shouting at the horses, it was the voice of the guard who was sitting beside the man. Quickly Nowlen scrambled forward and threw open the little window, demanding to know what was going on. Even as the words left his mouth he could see the coachman leaning over, an arrow sticking out of his chest and fresh blood streaming into the hand holding the arrow.
"Bandits, ser," the man said with a pained groan and a hint of an "I told you so," in his voice. "Fired on us from above then leaped down onto horses they had waiting. They are giving chase now, best keep low," he groaned, the warning punctuated by another arrow flying by. Ignoring Nowlen after the warning was given the man turned and shouted desperately to the men sitting on the back of the carriage, "Keep them back!"
Nowlen quickly slammed the window closed then scrambled around, throwing open the curtains that covered the small back window. He saw the two guards there, one loading a crossbow and another aiming one directly behind them. Barely visible through all the dust being kicked up by the speeding carriage were three cloaked figures on horses riding hard after them.
He saw that the one in the lead was armed with a bow and was taking aim. A moment after the bandit fired the guard who had been preparing to shoot his crossbow was hit. The man tumbled forward out of his seat, falling onto the road.
With a scream of alarm Nowlen slammed the curtains closed and sunk into his seat. He quickly looked around for his sword but remembered that it was packed with his things in a trunk secured to the roof of the carriage. Sweating profusely and his heart pounding he started to laugh madly to himself. "Wouldn't matter anyways, was always shit at swordplay. My brothers were always better at such things."
As he sunk down into his seat he heard a voice call out, "Keep 'em back!"
The guard behind him called out, "I'm trying but they are too--" and then an abrupt scream cut him off. Nowlen heard a thump behind them, knowing the second guard back there was gone.
Nowlen started to sit up, thinking about peeking out the side window to see how close the bandits were, but there was no need. Shadowed figures of riders appeared through the curtains on both sides of the carriage. The bandits had caught up!
The door beside him was wrenched open, slamming into the side of the carriage and leaving him fully exposed. Looking out and backing away to the other side of the carriage he saw a cloaked rider standing up on their horse, riding hard and preparing to leap into the carriage with him. Then, with amazing grace, the figure did just that. As they landed they pointed the tip of a drawn blade at the noble and threw back its cloak.
The face that was revealed was a startling one. Not that of an old, grizzled man as most bandits were. Instead the face was young, pretty, and unmistakably feminine. Yet it was no Human woman looming above the cowering noble. The bandit's skin was too dark, almost golden copper brown in tone. Her ears were too big and were long and pointed, but not like that of an Elve. They stuck out straight from her wild tangle of red-brown hair and looked more animal than Elven, each one pierced with three metal hoops of differing sizes. Sticking out of the woman's hair were two small horns, yellow-brown in color and one with a golden ring around its base.
"You're a Nemorvian!" Nowlen shouted in surprise at the bandit.
