The Three Adventurers

Included kinks:

High-Fantasy, Medieval, futanari, mini-gts, size difference, female muscle, strong-fat body type, full-figured women, big penis, exhibitionism, action, masturbation

All characters are entirely fictional and all above the age of 18!

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Disclaimer:

Expect a more elaborate introduction to a mostly fun-focused, faster paced and character driven journey that makes fun of the setting, the tropes of the genre while including all the kinks one would want featured in a futa story. Future chapters will be kept shorter - don't you worry.

Hope y'all enjoy.

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Lord Daeron kept drilling his gold embroidered boots dismissively into the damp soil.

"What are we waiting for again?" he urged on. Easily for the tenth time in the last two hours alone.

"For the ground to dry, my lord," Lyanne said in a tone that almost gave away how she truly felt about him.

She rather kept her green eyes locked onto the bridge stretching out before her, creeping up to the reinforced wooden palisade that surrounded the small island as the mighty Durstrom swung his thick arms all around it.

"We've been waiting for days," the young lord chuffed again, earning an annoyed sigh from Fel as well as Gunjon.

"Because we waited for the right weather. For the river to ebb away and for dry footing if we have to fight up hill," Lyanne said but didn't grant him a gaze.

"It didn't rain for hours," the blonde brat growled and silently grew more inpatient by the second.

"The attack will commence very shortly, my lord," Lyanne said first. "Once the sun disappears behind the hill."

"The sun? What does the sun matter now?"

Even the seasoned warrior grinded her teeth and had to turn away otherwise Lord Daeron would have seen her eyes roll and her face turn into a grimace of pure pain.

"To not have to fight uphill with the sun in the defenders back, my lord," she managed to say while pretending to inspect the lower banks, which she was convinced she could draw blindfolded by now.

The raven-haired warrior dug her iron gauntlet into the hilt of her sword when she heard him ready himself once more, eager to bring them at last to the brink of madness. But her comrade chose to strike first.

"Watch and learn. This is warart. Nobody knows more about it than Syn and Lyanne," Fel said in a voice twice as deep as usual.

"You mean 'art of war'?" Gunjon joined in, with utterly stuffed cheeks, which he kept constantly occupied just to avoid conversation with his "grace". Lyanne couldn't blame him.

"That one! Yes!" Fel shouted with the same girlish excitement she always brimmed with when she learned a new word. Or remembered one she already forgot.

"You don't need to tell me what I need to watch, neither what to learn, orc. I'm a Lord. I know of such things," the boy amongst seasoned warriors chirped.

"Lord of what exactly?" Fel asked as casually as the giant broad axe lazily hanging over her right shoulder and grinding against her metal armrings.

Gunjon almost choked on a chuckle, which only added to the nobleman's fury.

"How dare you?! Do you not know who I am?!" he yelled and focused solely on the completely unfazed orc before him.

"No. Should I?" Fel asked in the same nonchalant tone as before.

This time the hearty laugh swelling in Gunjon's throat couldn't be contained.

"Fel. That's enough," Lyanne interjected sternly and also looked at her right-hand man heavily struggling to master the art of chewing and snickering at the same time. "Both of you."

Disrespecting men of nobility never settled well with Lyanne, despite having met enough Lords and Ladies to know better. Only few were deserving of the power they wielded and even less showed any awareness of the privileged lives they were born into. Sadly, they only made up for that with heaps of pride, endless ambition and seemingly unlimited amounts of gold. Lord Daeron would soon be blessed with all three in abundance, and proved once again why it was easier to separate between those ancient bloodlines and traditions that came with those prestigious titles from the utterly incompetent hands they were passed down to nowadays.

"You probably don't even know what a Lord is where your kind is coming from. But here we respect Lordship. And I'm not just any ordinary Lord, Orc! Soon I'll be the duke of all of Hammark. And rule over the second biggest realm in the entire north!"

Fel drew a loud, excited breath and everybody who travelled with her knew exactly what thought just invaded her mind.

"Not that sort of ham," Lyanne sighed.

"Oh..."

The giant orc's excitement left her face as fast as it arose and Lord Daeron's was still burning with rage.

Fel couldn't look any more unbothered if she tried and probably still pondered what an entire realm made of ham would look like. She shifted her axe as she gave into a hearty stretch right in front of Lord Daeron's scolding eyes. Almost like she dared him to take a closer look at her basically fully exposed figure. The narrow slaps of fur wrapped around her hefty chest and groin did little to hide the muscles and curves on her, or contain the jiggly layer of fat dancing on her belly and hips. And then there was her cock, which simply pushed away anything that tried concealing it from the outside world on most days. Let alone in before battles, which she always entered fully hard and throbbing. Quite a peculiar orcish habit, but at least Syn made her wear something instead of the completely naked look Fel openly preferred. Maybe sometimes the small victories are the ones that need to suffice, Lyanne thought. Just like Fel containing the smug grin she was absolutely capable of.

Gunjon was much less successful in hiding his. No matter how much he wolfed down chops of mutton. How someone this piggish wasn't round like a barrel would always remain a mystery to her. Anyway, back to the child posing as a soldier.

"Beg me pardon, my lord," Lyanne said, her words burning on her tongue, "my comrades didn't mean to affront you. And my orcish friend is not yet fully aware of the customs of our people in these lands."

A triumphant smirk crept on young Daeron's freckled face, the sort of smile that was impossible not to despise.

"She will have to learn them eventually," he said with a swelling chest and eyed the 7'4" wall of green fat and muscle before him top to bottom. "And some discipline. No soldier of mine will be marching into battle under my command, with... that sort of appearance."

One could almost tell that green member throbbed harder out of pure spite.

"An eager warrior is a capable warrior, my lord," Lyanne said and caught herself frowning as well as Gunjon staring at her in disbelief.

Their contractor's bickering must have chipped away on her sanity, otherwise she would not have found herself defending Fel's pre-battle erection.

"Eager?" he spat and turned back to the fully armoured knight. "I call this a lack of manners at best. An insult at worst. And insults will not go unpunished under the new duke of Hammark. This I can tell you."

Lyanne wasn't easily impressed by threats, especially coming from someone standing a foot smaller and over ten years younger than her, with all of his authority coming solely from the fame and riches behind his name. But a duke was still a duke.

"Feel free to discipline Syn's warriors in her absence," she said and looked over to Fel who lightened up with glee. "If you feel like your guidance is required, my lord."

She didn't have to look at his face to know how it morphed into one of shivering shock, when Fel flashed her tusks in a wide grin that intimidated anyone who wasn't used to see it a dozen time a day.

"That... won't be necessary," he muttered and found his footing again when he took his eyes off the imposing orc warrior. "It's not up to me to reprimand Syn's fighters for her. It's up to her to keep your lazy asses in check."

"Who do you call lazy?" Fel growled again.

He didn't dare to reply, not when he realised Lyanne wouldn't come to his aid this time.

"A-anyways. Speaking of Syn. Where is she? One would expect she would be leading her band into battle, but I haven't seen her all day," he said in a wavering tone but high-held chin.

"That means everything is going according to plan," Lyanne said and felt the warmth of the sun slowly fading away as the hill swallowed all light. "It's time."

She lifted her arm, her metal pauldrons rattling when she gave a silent command that sent in motion what Syn and she had planned for days.

An eager murmur went through the warriors that rallied all around them and passed by his Lordship without paying him any mind.

"Fel. You know what to do?" Lyanne asked.

"Oh yes, boss," she simply grinned tensing in anticipation and swiftly grabbing the last chop of meat right of Gunjon's grasp almost mid-bite.

"Hey!" he growled, but even he was only second to the orc's constant cravings.

She merely grinned widely and playfully clapped his shoulder, which made him stumble back three paces at once before turning around to Little Daeron, just to make sure he got a good look on her huge green cheeks jiggling with every step as she left.

Gunjon's head grew red with anger, like anytime someone dared to get in the way of his food travelling into his bottomless stomach. An islander through and through he was, which he put on full display with colourful curses in an accent barely anyone could even comprehend.

"You know she'd be really angry when she heard you talking about her ass like this," Lyanne chuckled when his restless lips found some rest.

"It's not wrong though."

"Ready yourself," she said softly and couldn't find herself disagreeing too much when she shouted after the exhibitionistic orc. "Remember. No killing, Fel."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know. No fun," the orc howled back, with unbroken fighting spirit and hasty steps.

Gunjon put on his kettle hat shielding his bald patch equally from arrows and blinding his comrades as he looked at Lyanne with growing enthusiasm.

"Come on," she growled when the buckle of her leg plates no longer closed around those muscle-bound legs of hers.

"Well," he said, his groomed moustache lifting for a knowing grin.

"Don't give me that look," the knight sighed and let her war skirt drop down over her exposed muscular thighs, at least it would cover her noticeable bulge. "Fine. I'll make do without."

He had a point though. From now on she should probably focus more on her arms instead of her legs. On second thought, her biceps were also a tight fit already. Curses!

"Tell me one last thing," Lord Daeron said eventually and in an even more snarky tone. "What did you mean with 'no killing'? I thought the point of battle is to defeat the enemy."

"There are many ways to win a battle, my lord," she said and got up to her full height, shield in hand and her horned helmet tugged under a mighty arm twice the size of his Lordship. "Sometimes even without bloodshed."

"This isn't what I told you to do. I want them dead," he insisted.

Lyanne was taken aback by how casually he ordered his brother and his vassals dead. So much so she almost struggled for words, which was by all means no little feat.

"Syn thought your vassals would be of importance to the future Duke of Hammark."

"This is not up to her to decide. They are traitors and I want them dead. This is what I paid you all for."

"Why is power always wasted on the cruel or the foolish... or in this case a cruel fool," Lyanne thought and shook her head as she put on her helmet.

"You can discuss such matter with Syn herself after the battle is won. Lord Daeron," she spat and simply had to add. "And besides, thusfar you only paid half. Maybe you can afford the other half once you're actually Duke of Hammark."

His head turned as red as a cherry, but she was beyond caring.

"Give the signal," she ordered to Gunjon, satisfaction clearly stamped onto his face.

"With pleasure."

Everyone stared at the lower bank when Fel made her way up to the raging waters under cheers of everyone assigned to her command. She grabbed the massive iron spear longer than she was tall and rivalling her arms in thickness before tightening the knot that connected the rope. And then the rope stretched when she rushed into the stream, axe and spear both held over her head as the water reached all the way up to her neck. Everyone else besides a 7'4" orc of her stature would have been washed away in an instant. Thankfully, Fel was as proficient in cutting through rivers like she was cutting through ranks of infantry. Only few terrified archers realising their defences were bypassed shot down at her in vain. Naturally no one of them thought of bringing heavy equipment and bolts to bring down a futa orc warrior, but one couldn't be blamed to not expect such a foe either.

Fel reached the other bank with ease and put on a show as she drew all attention by displaying her full figure to the baffled defenders. Whistles from both sides of the river thundered back at her, almost as aplenty as the arrows sticking in her leathery skin in an attempt to stop her from hilting that spear deep in the ground. Meanwhile, her comrades on the other side tightened the rope around the big tree until it could carry the weight of 10 fully armoured men at once, which immediately shimmied along it and across the Durstrom.

"Gunjon."

"Yes?"

"You will lead the archers and crossbowmen after me. Hold your fire until you hear my command."

"Understood."

Lyanne looked around and stared into the eyes of dwarves and humans alike. Everyone was brimming with vigour and complete trust in Syn's plan -- like they should. As much as they would have preferred a proper fight, today promised them the easiest gold they'd ever earn. A decent conciliation for days of twiddling their thumbs.

"Onwards, boys," Lyanne grinned and lifted her sword into the air and with a loud Warcry everyone followed her over the wooden bridge.

They met no resistance. The first row of defences, an improvised barricade was hacked down within seconds and not a single arrow was shot at them despite being within range. This unsettled Lyanne as much as knowing who was hired to defend the gatehouse, despite outnumbering them 3 to 1. Their little manoeuvre of lining up many of their men on the bush-covered hilltop, just in front of the sole rider and the rest of the leadership, to make their numbers seem greater wouldn't change that fact either. Today's opponents were known for such trickery and also for snatching victory away no matter the odds.

The gatehouse came into view and the rest of the bridge remained undefended. Lyanne peeked over to Fel who lined up at the palisade with the first few dozens of men who already crossed the river. Everything looked good thusfar. Too good.

Suddenly, the gate opened and a single figure emerged. A towering man, covered top to bottom with bulky armour as dark as the night and armed with an even more oversized sword leaning over his shoulder. Archers took positions on the ramparts and manned the palisade as soon as he entered, prompting for Gunjon to command his skirmishers to ready themselves as well. But the single warrior kept walking at them at leisurely pace and when he stopped an audible murmur went through Lyanne's men.

"Good day. Can I convince you to turn around and spend this beautiful day with something less bloody?" the gigantic knight said in a charming tone.

Everybody knew who stood before them, nevertheless while most feared a man of his reputation, Lyanne had looked forward to meeting him in person for many years.

"I'm afraid this is not possible, good ser," she returned with a grin and knightly courtesy of her own. "It takes bravery to face all of us by yourself. Someone else would have filled you with a hundred bolts and arrows already."

He laughed out loud and took another few steps closer, the giant sword seemingly growing longer with every step.

"Good I checked who I was up against first. I knew I didn't have to fear such dishonourable cowardice once I spotted the three silver spears on your banner," he said, still completely unimpressed by facing 300 men alone.

"The same goes for the flaming boar as well, Ser Lundor," Lyanne said and nodded warmly.

Another stream of whispers washed over the men standing behind her, but she rarely ever felt more excited.

"The blue blade," many gasped, somewhere between admiration and fear.

His clean-shaven grin only grew wider as he stopped and lifted his legendary weapon, too thick and heavy to be called a sword. A "heap of metal" was a fairer description of the monster he wielded. Rumours had it, it was forged from a stone falling from the sky which gave it its signature colour shimmering in the sun. Surely, hundreds of men were cut down with it, now that its owner earned his money as a sword for hire. Probably the best there is.

"You honour me, Lyanne Ironarm. About time we cross paths," he said and bowed nobly in a show of respect that was very hard to come by for a futa.

Lyanne felt like screeching like a little girl when her biggest childhood idol, probably one of the reasons why she became a knight. Only narrowly did she swallow her embarrassment before Ser Lundor would notice it.

"This is hardly the first time we meet. Well, at least not the first time I have seen you," she chuckled. "You still fought in tournaments back then. And I hope you don't mind me saying, but you still wore your hair back then."

Ser Lundor laughed out heartily, with some of his elite men joining in from the palisade.

"That must have been ages ago. Well, can't say I don't miss those days. But we both let them behind us, don't we?"

"And now we stand here. For gold," Lyanne joined in.

"Noone is getting paid yet. Right now, two former, undefeated tournee knights are merely standing on a bridge and keep talking about the good old days. But soon we have to figure out what to do next," he said.

"Any suggestions?"

"How about a duel? We are both more than used to them," he suggested and ordered his men to drop their bows with one swing of his massive arm.

"Sounds intriguing. But what's the price? We both rarely fight without a proper reward these days," Lyanne smirked.

"Well, how about holding on to the title of invincibility?"

The futa knight pretended to weigh up the offer just to catch a quick glimpse on Fel and her men who by now most must have made the crossing.

"Back then this would have been sufficient to me, but nowadays both our prices have risen I'm afraid," she eventually returned.

"How about the bridge then?" he said and didn't seem unfazed by Lyanne's knowing smirk to re-appear.

She hoped he would made that sort of offer. He was known for doing that and for others to be foolish enough to accept it. How many times did he end battles with a single swing of his mighty blade before they even begun? Yet, today it was merely an offer out of desperation. Far too outmatched were they to consider anything else. Both were aware of it, but nevertheless was Lyanne tempted, even when waiting would have suited her just fine.

"The bridge? Does this bridge come with the men defending it as well?" she asked.

"Everyone under my command. I can't speak for the noble Lord and his retinue or Karstjan's men, but my brethren in arms will lay down their weapons. Well, if you defeat me. Can I expect yours to do the same?"

"Lyanne, I don't kno-" Gunjon began.

"You can," she interrupted him and earned a seasoned grin from Ser Lundor. "You have my word."