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Chapter Text

Ebonburgh in the summer is a sight to behold if you’re a traveller along the McGraddie Path. The sun was high in the sky, casting its rays down upon the ringed city-state of Ebonburgh. Jessup was an ex-soldier as well as a trapper and hunter by trade. A trade that was rather difficult for them, on account of being a goblin. There aren’t many who would trust a goblin to handle a gun unless it was heavily modified to not snap their little wrists or blow them clear across a room when firing a single shot. 

But, despite that, despite having to endure abuse from other travellers on the McGraddie Path, Jessup carried on. They pursued a direstag that they’d shot; they’d been following it for hours when its path terminated at the mouth of a cave. Jessup drew a knife and one of Papa Izomaex’s glowing sticks as they trudged into the cave. 

They wandered around in the darkness, following the trail of blood, their only source of light being the faint greenish glow of the stick. That was until they heard the sickening wet sound of something sucking. They walked closer, and the glowing stick showed what they initially thought was the sight of the direstag standing on its hind legs like a man. They didn’t realize that something was propping it up until the direstag’s body fell to the ground, revealing a towering orc woman. Though to Jessup, most women of different races were towering over them. Even goblin women. She was completely bald and pale green, her lips were red and wet with the direstag’s blood, while on top of her head, Jessup could see that there were the beginnings of antlers. Evidently, he and the stag wandered into the home of one of Ebonburgh’s locals. Some kind of horrible leech or nosferatu residing in the dark. 

Jessup drew their revolver and fired, even though against a vampire, normal lead slugs were useless. 

The vampire bitch stalked towards them, her steps seeming to make the ground shake, and causing Jessup to slip and fall, coming close to cracking their skull against a stalagmite. 

She snatched Jessup up by the collar of his shirt and held him at eye level. Kind of like a child might with their least favorite doll. The stench of copper was heavy on the orc-vampire’s breath as she panted. 

“Are you here for the show?” she asked. 

“What?” yelped Jessup. 

The orc-vampire’s eyes went from normal to black pools of ink in an instant.

“I mean, yes, yes, definitely,” corrected Jessup. 

“Five dollars,” said the orc. “Or whatever equivalent you have.” 

“I…I’m in from Baker’s Row,” said Jessup. “We do silver dollars.” 

The orc made an irritated snort noise and held out her free hand, which looked almost like a bear’s paw to Jessup. “Five-dollar admission.” 

Jessup dug into the pocket of their pants and produced a stack of five silver dollars, each minted with the face of the previous President of the Goblin Union, Hadrian Jeffs. The small stack hit her hand and began to immediately sizzle her flesh like bacon being fried in a skillet. Though, despite that, the orc seemed to barely register any pain from it. 

Jessup was slowly lowered to the ground, and she stepped aside. She smiled and said in a cheery voice, “Enjoy the show, hun.” 

Jessup stepped further down the tunnel and was met by a semi-professional-looking amateur theater setup. There was a stage erected in one part of the antechamber, while rows and rows of canvas-backed and seated fold-out chairs were set up. 

Jessup wasn’t alone in the audience. In the faint glow of the magic lanterns that surrounded the cave walls, there were very obvious vampires, warm goblins, and even a couple of cowfolk from out east. 

The curtains parted, and the audience was greeted by a peculiar creature that Jessup couldn’t say he’d seen before. They looked like a goblin, sure. But they had a set of horns on their head, kind of like a bull might, and they were naked, showing off a cock that wasn’t too dissimilar from that of a bull. It was limp and smacked against their knee as they walked around the stage. 

“Y’know,” said this odd goblinoid creature. “People like to call me a freak of nature. And I’m like? Have you looked in the mirror lately, buddy?” 

Jessup kind of stared at the stage. Was this some kind of joke? Was this the preamble to some kind of vampire feast where the very obvious-looking Nosferatu would feed on them and the others? Jessup couldn’t look away from the creature’s cock, though. Despite it being limp, it was just kind of hypnotic. Like a pendulum. 

“Anyways,” said the goblinoid creature. “Tonight’s show is about love being won and lost. But don’t worry, there’s going to be some rough fucking so you won’t get too bored.” 

“What?” muttered Jessup. 

The curtains parted, and the creature fled the stage on all fours, kind of like a monkey that Jessup had once seen in a travelling show. 

Another vampire that had perhaps once been an elf, dressed in silken robes that were at least 200 years out of style, stalked back and forth across the stage with his hands behind his back. His expression was a mask of exasperation and worry.

Then a blue slime creature who bore the vague shape of a human stepped onto the stage wearing a servant’s dress that looked like something out of a history book. It was heavily modified to show off the slime creature’s thick thighs. 

“M’lord?” asked the slime creature. “What ails you so?” 

“It’s my wife, Slime,” said the vampire. “I fear that she’s made a cuckold of me with Alphonse Granger. The useless cad.” 

“The stable manager?” asked Slime. “I’m so sorry, m’lord.” 

She, assuming the slime was capable of being a she, walked across the stage and began to rub the vampire’s shoulders. The fabric of his robes immediately became wet and sticky-looking. 

“This is fuckin’ terrible,” muttered Jessup. It sure as shit wasn’t worth five dollars. 

“Would my mouth be helpful, m’lord?” asked Slime. 

“You have a mouth?” asked the vampire. 

Slime nodded, and Jessup watched as a pair of lips…or aspects of the slime’s body formed into a pair of large, generous lips. 

The vampire quickly tore off his pants, revealing a set of very pale, hairless thighs (as is expected of elves), but also a rock-hard phallus that was roughly the length and girth of an eggplant. Jessup had never seen an elf’s cock before, but he never envisioned that they were that incomprehensibly huge. 

Slime dropped to her knees and took the length in her ‘mouth’. They were both positioned to the side, so the audience could see the member plunging in and out of the transparent blue membrane of the creature. Suddenly, it made sense that the price was so hefty. Jessup had never seen anything like this in his life. He’d seen countless horrible things, but he’d never witnessed anything as beautiful as watching an elf skullfuck a slime monster that was shaped like a person. 

Jessup’s own cock was rock hard. As they cast their eyes around, they noticed that they weren’t alone. Several other members of the audience had very obvious erections, but they did nothing about them. For a moment, Jessup considered whipping it out and relieving himself of the burden then and there, but it seemed that social protocol dictated he do otherwise. 

Everybody clapped when the vampiric elf blasted a load of white hot seed inside the slime monster, turning the slime’s body a kind of creamy blue color. 

---

Jessup just had to meet this man. He had to learn everything about this show. 

After the show, he found the orc he’d met at the door sitting in the backstage area. The vampiric elf man rested on her lap, kind of like a rich old lady’s dog.

“Excuse me, sir?” asked Jessup, suddenly feeling his face get red. 

“Yes?” asked the elf. 

“That was an incredible show,” said Jessup. 

“Why, thank you…You’re not here to sell us something, are you?” asked the elf.  

“What? No, I was tracking a direstag and the ummm…guard?” said Jessup, gesturing at the orc who found it first.

“Glasha?” asked the elf. “Did you eat this little man’s deer?” 

The orc smiled and ran her thumb along the elf’s lips, and he shuddered and shook like a virginal girl on her wedding day, giggling enthusiastically.  

“Maybe, but I got us another paying customer in the process,” said Glasha, the orc. “Not many of those these days.” 

“Really?” asked Jessup. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. How do you not have more customers?”

“There’s just no audience for pornographie anymore, we’re a dying fad,” said the elf.

“That’s…Wow, you have no idea how untrue that is. I’m sure if you took this show on tour and updated some things, it would be a hit.” 

“Are you saying we’re out of touch?” asked the elf, climbing off of Glasha’s lap. “How dare you!” 

“Ailuin,” said Glasha, resting a gigantic hand on his considerably smaller shoulder. “Perhaps we should listen to him. When was the last time we went on tour? It must be an age.” 

Ailuin the elf frowned. “Perhaps you’re right, dearest. We’ve perhaps become too complacent in the cave…You!” 

Ailuin rushed Jessup, clearing the distance between them in seconds. The vampire lifted the little hunter off his feet and hoisted him until they were at eye level. 

“You will act as our guide in this modern world,” said Ailuin. “All of our connections are dead…Hopefully, a lot of them are. We will need a shepherd in this new day and age. Do you accept?” 

“I…” Jessup swallowed a bit of spit in their throat. “What happens if I say no?” 

“Then my wife and I will eat you,” said Ailuin. 

“Obviously, yeah, of course I’ll help you,” said Jessup. 

“Wonderful!” shouted Ailuin, who lowered the goblin back to the ground. “I shall rally the crew. We’re taking to the road again!”

Chapter Text

Innskeep. A single-cylinder town run by the crooked Mayor Walter. But that is neither here nor there. Mayor Walter, in fact, is barely present in this tale. We open our scene with stagecoaches blowing into Innskeep. A whole wagon train made up of stagecoaches and wagons, the likes of which haven't been seen in the town in ages, all pulled by gigantic horses with hair as black as the night sky and eyes darker still. 

“You sure you two’ll be fine in the sun?” asked Jessup as he rode with Glasha and Ailuin in their head stagecoach. 

“We’ll be fine, our vampire powers will simply be greatly weakened by the light of the sun…Though we might need you to lead us inside. The light isn’t good for our eyes,” said Ailuin. 

“That can easily be remedied,” said Glasha. “I’ve seen a few of our audience members wearing odd spectacles over the years with darkened glass. Perhaps those?” 

Honor Manning was a human, and he wasn’t super happy to see Jessup Wilkes leading an orc and an elf into his shop with their eyes closed. Though he was pleased to see that the hunter had changed his occupation to that of a seeing-eye dog. 

“I thought I told you that you’re not welcome here, Wilkes,” said Honor. 

“Have you led us astray, goblin?” hissed Glasha, exposing her rather pronounced i-teeth. But she did not open her eyes. 

“No, no, I lead you to the best tailor in the Ebonburgh area,” said Jessup, eyeing the tailor with angry little eyes, despite their neutral tone. 

“Are these payin’ customers, Wilkes? Unlike you and that sister of yours, what fucked off into the wilderness?” asked Honor. 

“Yeah, yeah, you keep harpin’ on that,” said Wilkes. “I’m hopin’ you’ll outfit my somewhat antiquated acquaintances in some new duds. Something flashy, y’know?”

“They won’t bite me, will they?” asked Honor. “I can’t be turning into a viper, I have temple tomorrow.” 

“Only if you ask politely,” said Ailuin. 

“Comfortin’,” said Honor. “Can one or both of you open yer eyes so I know where yer lookin’?”

The vampires slowly opened their eyes and glanced around the shop, which featured mannequins showcasing potential outfits. Fashion had evolved significantly since Ailuin and Glasha had last been in a clothing shop. Silk was seemingly still in use, but rather than being used for robes, the fabric was stitched together to make trousers, vests, and shirts. Dresses had become more elaborate, coming down in these great curls and furls at the collar and at the ankle. It was enough to make both of them feel rather underdressed in their silken robes and leather armor from a bygone age. 

“So, what are you folks looking for?” asked Honor, who decided to put on a more friendly-seeming professional accent when dealing with them.  

Ailuin was the easiest to outfit. Honor had played host to elves in the past. Slim-fitted grey black slacks, a white silk shirt, and a matching vest with a bowtie found a home on his frame. However, Ailuin kept tugging at the tie.

“What’s this about my neck? It feels like a noose,” cried Ailuin.

“It’s a bowtie,” said Honor. 

“It’s uncomfortable, is this the height of men’s fashion these days?” he asked. 

“Yeah, has been for about a hundred years,” said Honor. 

“You’ll also need a hat; it’s rather improper for folks to be wandering around with the tops of their heads exposed,” said Honor. 

Ailuin selected a black bowler hat and slid it on his head. Though it had a loose fit. The brim of it also made his gigantic ears point out in a direction that almost made them seem flat. 

Glasha’s outfit proved to be difficult. Honor hadn’t really outfitted very many orcs in his day, and as a result, he had to stitch together a whole outfit at the ready. The result was a set of baggy riding trousers coupled with a white blouse with loose, poofy arms. This was capped off with a feathered hat that fit her head a lot better than her husband’s bowler. 

“What do we owe you, tailor?” asked Ailuin, who dug into a cloth sack and produced a handful of heavy gold coins that were last minted two hundred years prior. 

Honor eyed the gold coins, and he recognized that each one of them was worth way more as a historical artifact than they were as actual currency. But he wasn’t sure if the vampire was aware of that. 

“How about a pair of handfuls of those coins and we’ll call things square, eh?” offered Honor, hoping he was walking away with a pay fat enough to leave this town. 

Ailuin handed off the money to the tailor, whose hands drooped a bit with the weight of the coins. 

They stepped out of the store and into the dusty streets of Innskeep, their eyes hidden from the sun by dark spectacles, but they were able to see now, which was a relief to the pair. 

“Our next plan of action should be to hit up the mayor,” said Glasha. “He’s bound to have heard about our plays from Ebonburgh proper.” 

Mayor Walter was a gigantic man. Human, too, but his height was almost equal to that of Glasha. If it wasn’t for her spectacles, they might have been able to make eye contact. He wore a white suit and smoked a cigar the size of a decent sausage. 

“Not only no, but if you perform these…these perverse plays near Innskeep, I’ll have you arrested,” said Mayor Walter. “I don’t care what the countess from her obsidian tower has to say.” 

“Mister Walter,” said Ailuin. “Surely you can see what a boon this will be to the village.” 

“Innskeep is a town, vampire,” said Mayor Walter. “In a few years, we might even qualify as a city. But that doesn’t change the facts of the situation. This is a town of religious folks. Temple and Church going people. They are not worshippers of gods that enjoy beastly displays like the sort that go on in your cave. I suggest you return to that cave.” 

Glasha made a dismissive noise with her mouth, “Since when? I recognize the worship of these same gods. A few centuries ago, there were great orgies to honor the gods worshipped today.” 

“That might have been the case two hundred years ago,” said Mayor Walter. “But this is a different age. We’re civilized folks.”

“And who's to say civilized folks don’t deserve to see a bit of action?” chimed in Jessup. 

“Says I, the mayor of this town,” said Mayor Walters. “You’re lucky we haven’t had you strung up, Jessup Wilkes. But I suppose we can wait for one of your siblings to do that.” 

“You’re a wealthy man, right, Mayor Walters?” asked Ailuin. “Surely, a man of your stature has friends…We don’t need to put on a play for the whole town. Perhaps just you and a close circle of friends? As a kind of trial to see if we’re suitable for the rest of the town.” 

Mayor Walters took his lower lip and pinched it between his fingers. “Very well…But, I want final say over what the production will be of.” 

“Naturally,” said Glasha. 

---

The town’s theater was closed for a private show. All of the town’s upperclass found themselves their or risk their friend, Mayor Walters’s displeasure. Ada Finch, the owner of the bank, was there. And even Hubys Themyar, the governor of Lelohil’s son, found himself as an audience member. The audience was host to elves, humans, and dwarves. The masters of this world, all ready to see a show. 

Vial, the alchemical mix of a minotaur and a goblin, stepped onto the stage. They’d convinced him to wear clothes, and he dressed like a miniature gentleman, complete with a top hat and frock coat, but his black trousers did nothing to hide his monstrous cock, which strained against the fabric of the pants. 

“Mercy me, I’ve not seen this much money in a single room since I broke into the bank,” said Vial.

Ada Finch glared at the little man from her box seat. 

Nobody laughed at the minogoblin. 

“Damn, tough crowd. Personalities like a rawhide wallet,” said 

Vial. “Tonight, we will be putting on a special show. A play about the epic showdown between a lawman and a would-be bank robber. Starring actress of the stage, Daisy Parkinson!” 

The crowd clapped, familiar with the work of the human actress. They definitely weren’t biased at all. 

Things started very simply with the actress dressed in a paisley dress that was modified to show off her thighs as she mimed creeping across the stage with a sack full of money slung over her shoulder. The spurs on her boots did jingle, jangle, jingle. 

On one end of the stage, Glasha appeared, freed from her feminine clothes and dressed in a loose, unbuttoned shirt, a pair of short pants, and a vest with a tin star pinned to it. 

On the opposite end of the stage, Ailuin appeared in the same costume with a tin star on the chest. Both sheriffs drew their pistols, and Daisy Parkinson raised her hands in the air. 

“Ease up now, officers, I haven’t done nothin’,” said Daisy Parkinson as the outlaw, Glory Kate.

“You say that we haven’t tracked you across five counties,” said Glasha, pulling the hammer back on her revolver and making it click.

“That’s right, Glory,” said Ailuin. “It’s the end of the line, and there’s no way out of this.” 

Daisy Parkinson smirked and slinked over to Ailuin first, resting her hand against his crotch and feeling the outline of his positively pendulous cock as it rested in his shorts. 

“I’m sure we can make a deal, sheriff,” she cast her gaze over her shoulder at Glasha. 

The orc vampire closed the distance between them, and the human found herself sandwiched between the married couple. Her free hand found purchase on Glasha’s exposed thigh.

“I think I’m amenable to that,” said Glasha. 

Her hands seized the hem of Daisy Parkinson’s dress, and she raised her shirt, exposing the set of black panties and the garters that held up her sheer stockings. 

Glasha raised Daisy Parkinson’s arms up and then cuffed her wrists together. “Wouldn’t want you to get any ideas while we fool around on the job.” 

Daisy made a show of straining against the binds, but it was clearly half-hearted. The orc vampire’s hands trailed up along the human’s thighs and towards her panties, tearing the fabric easily. 

Somewhere in town, Honor got a splitting headache and didn’t know why. 

Ailuin unbuttoned his shorts and rested the length of his cock against her dripping, warm pusssy. Admittedly, his cock was cold, but it was hard as steel. Glasha’s hands weren’t warmer, but they were dexterous a she carefully eased a pair of fingers inside the actress, causing her to moan like a needy thing. 

Glasha removed her fingers, and they began to encircle her clit as Ailuin slowly worked his length inside he, and she parted her legs to help accommodate his elven length.

“Fuck,” growled Daisy Parkinson. 

“Do you like my partner’s cock, Glory?” asked Glasha. “He’s got quite the pistol, doesn’t he?” 

“Yes, he does,” she whined, right as Ailuin started to buck his hips wildly, slamming into her harder while Glasha toyed with her clit, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm from that alone. 

The audience was glued to their seat, and some of them broke protocol. Hubys whipped out his cock and started stroking to the sight of the play as it went on. Ada did the same, hiking up her dress and playing with her pussy while she watched Daisy Parkinson getting railed by a slender elf. 

Ailuin pulled out his cock and sprayed cold cum on Daisy’s exposed belly. She rubbed his cold seed into her skin, treating it like a lotion or a balm. 

What none of the audience noticed because they were too busy oggling her exposed legs was the twin set of bite marks on the actress’s neck. Daisy Parkinson, actress of the stage, had been turned into a creature of the night by Ailuin and Glasha. After they got their fill of the show, the audience started for the doors, only to find them locked. 

Ailuin, Daisy, and Glasha stood on the stage in a row, looking at their prey as they struggled to get the door open. One by one, they tore through the crowd. They might not have done that if the audience decided to play ball. There are rules about this sort of thing. You don’t jerk off in the theater, that’s rude to the people who have to clean. And you most certainly don’t withhold art from the people in service of your goddamned wealthy friends. 

  By the end, the theater was all rending and tearing and screaming. Mayor Walters was the last one that they got to, which suited them just fine. 

“Do you see what you did, Mayor Walters?” asked Glasha, seizing him by the head and making him look at the torn-open corpse of Hubys Themyar. “See what happens when you’re a greedy piggy?” 

Mayor Walters nodded, thinking it would save him. It didn’t. Glasha’s hand became a long, taloned claw like that of a bird of prey, and she ripped his trachea out. 

Afterwards, Jessup was tasked with helping them haul corpses out of the theater and into the coach. “I just don’t see why you went through the trouble of putting on a show when you were just gonna kill all of them.” 

“It’s less about killing them and more about sending a message,” said Ailuin. 

“That message bein’?” asked Jessup. 

“The message being that art is for the people,” said Glasha. “Not elites who want to beat their meat.”

Chapter Text

The society of gnomes had flourished. Their architecture was similar to that of the spacefaring Unpeople, featuring large spiral buildings that dominated the skies and red, semi-dome buildings with central masts that gave them a resemblance to the mushroom houses of old. 

“We’ve been here before,” said Glasha to Jessup, who sat on her shoulder like a pirate’s pet parrot. “We do well with a gnomish audience.” 

“It’s just weird, I didn’t think gnomes fucked,” said Jessup.

“Oh, they don’t,” said Ailuin. “They get their jollies a different way. They like being smashed.” 

“What?” asked a wide-eyed Jessup. 

“Smashed, like with a hammer or a boot,” said Glasha. “It’s really upsetting.” 

“It’s true,” said Ailuin. “I had to watch my wife naked, smashing some gnome woman who believed me to be a coward.” 

“That’s awful,” said Jessup.

“Also, why didn’t you tell us that people are more elven these days?” asked Ailuin. 

“What do you mean, ‘elven’?” asked Jessup.

“Repressed. Closed off. Elves back in the day used to not talk about sex or violence in their strongholds and cities,” said Glasha. “It was seen as embarrassing.” 

“Highly,” said Ailuin. “The old queen of the elves sent my sister to potentially murder me for putting on the pornographie plays. Does such a figure still exist?”  

“As in an elf queen? No,” said Jessup. “I think the closest thing is the president of the Confederacy of Long-Lived Folk,” said Jessup. “They started maybe a hundred years ago. It’s Elves and Dwarves mostly ruling from cities on the East Coast. I think there are a couple of humans and vampires vyin’ for roles in the government.” 

“Fascinating,” said Ailuin. “We didn’t have many presidents back in the day.”

“Most places kind of moved on from Kings, Queens, and the like,” said Jessup. “Most orc strongholds still have chiefs, but little folk like myself became unified into two nations about ten years ago.” 

“So who’s the mayor of this gnome village…er city now?” asked Ailuin. 

“Beats me,” said Jessup. 

---

You’ve met Ilsa Winkelhock on the road before, traveller. You met her when she was a young gnome who didn’t have many ideas. All she wanted in this world was to be smashed repeatedly by a big, strong figure like Glasha. 

She is now the Mayor of Spindlepoint. The boss of bosses, with her skin painted to resemble a white suit, like a gentleman. 

“Everything above and below!” she exclaimed when Glasha, Jessup, and Ailuin were allowed into her offices at City Hall. “You’re still alive!?”

“In a very technical sense, Mrs. Winkelhock,” said Ailuin. “How have you been? You’ve certainly come up in the world.” 

“Yes,” said Ilsa Winkelhock. “Grand Gnomes fell out of fashion as century ago, and when we started holding mayoral elections, I threw my hat into the ring. Metaphorical hat, you understand, I didn’t carve off the top of my skull.” 

“I gathered,” said Glasha, lying. “We were wondering if you folks would be interested in entertaining our services again.” 

Ilsa bit her lower lip and made a soft hiss. “That’s…That’s a tricky proposition, you understand. You might dress like modern people, and you and I are of the same vintage. But tastes have changed. Most gnomes are uninterested in public smashings. We’re into fights these days.” 

“Fuck’s sake,” said Ailuin. 

“Indeed. Boxing, wrestling, even kicking for those who have sizable legs,” said Mayor Winkelhock. “Now, if they…” 

Ilsa Winkelhock shuddered and smirked before continuing. 

“If they were to put on a show like what you did to me back in the day, everybody would throw a fit and call you a brute,” said Ilsa Winkelhock. “Not me, though, I’m a big fan. But I love what you guys do, so I’ll cut you a break. You write me up some kind of a fight between a decent-sized little folk…like this goblin here, and you can get a show at the stadium.” 

---

“I won’t do it,” said Jessup. “I don’t even like gnomes in that way…Not that I’m prejudiced or anything, but I just won’t do it.” 

“Nobody’s accusing you of being prejudiced, Jessup,” said Ailuin, who sat on Glasha’s lap, taking a break from kissing her neck. “We just don’t have a whole lot of little folk in our employ at the moment, and you’d probably last a few rounds against whatever bruiser gnome they set you up against.” 

“What about Vial?” asked Jessup. 

“Vial is too gentle a soul for acts of violence,” said Glasha. “That’s why he’s our stand-up comedian.” 

“But he’s really bad at stand-up,” said Jessup.

Glasha blinked at this, registering what had been said and then breezed past it. “C’mon, think about the payout. You get paid more if you actively participate in the events.” 

“Yeah, I actively participated last week when you had me diggin’ graves for those poor motherfuckers you had me bury,” said Jessup.

“Technically, they were rich motherfuckers,” said Ailuin. “Well, that’s different. When you perform, you put your whole body on the line physically and emotionally. It’s more taxing than digging a grave.” 

“I don’t buy that for a second,” said Jessup. 

“Trust me, when you’ve been the stunt cock in plays for as long as I have, you come to understand how taxing shit is,” said Ailuin. 

Slime, who was also present, sucked blood out of a wine glass. She wasn’t a vampire; that’s just what slimes naturally eat. “It’s true. There was like a three-month stretch where I was the stunt cock in a few plays.” 

“But this is different, you see that right? You’re askin’ me to get into a scrap with some guy I don’t know,” said Jessup. 

“Assuming that they set you up with a man,” said Ailuin. “They could set you up against a hearty gnome woman.” 

“I’m not hittin’ a lady,” said Jessup. 

“Why not? They’re gnomes, they love this kind of stuff,” said Glasha. “Plus, it takes them seconds to reconstitute themselves, so it’s not like you’d be doing lasting damage.” 

“It just ain’t proper,” said Jessup. “It’s uncouth.”

“Look, Jessup,” said Ailuin, his hair being stroked by his wife like he was some kind of exotic cat. “What can we give you that would sweeten this deal?” 

“I wanna be in one of the plays,” said Jessup. “Not like this rough and tumble brawlin’ shit, but an actual honest-to-goodness play.”   

“Can you act?” asked Glasha. 

“I can learn,” said Jessup. 

“I don’t see why not then, sure,” said Glasha. “It’s been an age since we had a goblin man act in one of the shows, so it should be a treat for some audiences. But before that, Vial and the others are going to give you some lessons so you don’t make a fool of yourself.” 

---

It has been written elsewhere that gnomes are terrifying when they’re aroused. This remains true, even into the modern day. They’d gathered at the mighty Spindlepoint Stadium. A few hundred years ago, it could only fit a few hundred gnomes. Now, it plays host to thousands of screaming gnomes, goblins, and other assorted little folk like fairies. 

Jessup found themselves naked, save for a red bandana holding their hair at one end of the stadium with a claw hammer as their only weapon. 

At the opposite end of the stadium was Tanis Braun. Though his surname should have been “Brawn”. He was a gnome who measured almost four feet tall and had the muscular body of a miniature god, even though he was sculpted out of organic ceramic. He was painted to resemble a naked human of a similar build, but he lacked the secondary characteristic that many would find pleasing. Tanis Braun’s face was a mess, shards were missing from his ‘beard’ and cheeks, and when he opened his mouth, it was like looking at a bunch of shattered pieces of dinner plates. Tanis didn’t have a weapon, only his fists. 

Glasha strode across the stage holding up a sign. “Tonight, you witness not just a fight for pleasure but a pride fight! In this corner, we have Messy Wilkes, and in the other…the inimitable Tanis Braun!” 

The crowd roared. 

Jessup mouthed, ‘messy’ to themselves after Glasha shouted it. 

She stepped out of the ring and somewhere a bell rang. Tanis Braun got on all fours and began to rush Jessup like an approaching gorilla. 

Jessup screamed and started to run away, being chased by the gnome who made vicious snarling noises at them. 

Suddenly, it seemed as though Jessup was back in the charnel fields again. They were being chased by invisible enemies as they darted around piles of corpses.

A clap to the back of the head rocketed the goblin back to the present. 

Jessup was sent sprawling to the floor, and when they looked up, the gnome was hunched over them, snarling like a beast. Jessup reacted instinctively and grabbed the hammer, smashing the claw end against the gnome’s face.

Organic ceramic pieces flew all over the ring’s canvas top, and Jessup could see the hollow inside of the gnome. His one good eye was razor keen for vengeance, but also simultaneously lulling in a kind of pleasure that was alien to Jessup. 

Jessup suddenly found that their cock throbbed at the very notion that they were giving pleasure to this beastly gnome, however it came. 

Jessup crawled away and got back on their feet and rushed the gnome, knocking Tanis Braun onto his back before slamming the hammer into his face, over and over, until his body ceased thrashing. 

“I don’t like that I’m into this!” shouted Jessup. 

The headless muscle body threw Jessup off and began to pick up the pieces of his face and head. 

Jessup, while the gnome was blind from the lack of head knocke him on his side and began to go after the limbs, snapping off the leg and one of the arms with the hammer before finally settling. 

“They don’t call them messy for nothing, folks!” shouted Glasha as she entered the ring again. 

Evidently, during their melee, Jessup blew a fat load of goblin seed all over the muscle gnome. 

Eventually, Tanis Braun managed to piece himself back together again.

Chapter Text

You’ve never seen a dragon before, have you, traveller? Few have. They’re ostensibly rare beings. Nobody truly knows where they come from. They could be celestial beings from the deepest reaches of the empty black, or they could be demonic things from other dimensions. It’s really up in the air. But, you know what dragons do regardless of origin, don’t you? They hoard. None more so than Remrurro, the Dragon of the Red Mesas. However, his hoard isn’t gold or food. His hoard is something altogether different.

The troupe passed through the vast red sand expanse of the southwestern region of the continent. The vampiric hosts slept in dirt-lined coffins while Jessup, ever the rangemaster, guided the wagon train. 

“I think this is it, but I don’t know,” said Jessup as they stopped at the foot of a mountain that looked as though it had been artificially rounded and the top had been flattened as if by some great force. 

“This will probably be it,” said Vial, who sat beside Jessup on the lead wagon. “I think it’s one of the old Unpeople cities.” 

“I don’t know what that is,” said Jessup. 

“Star-faring people,” said Vial. 

That didn’t help matters, but Jessup decided not to press the issue. When night fell on their wagon train, the troupe rallied their undead leaders and began to make the long, hard trek to the entryway.

The door was a polished-walled tunnel that stretched maybe a mile through solid stone. The only clear sign that there was anything of worth at its end was the outline of bright, white light. Glasha, tall and brawny, had to crawl on her hands and knees to fit through the entryway. It was worth it, though, as they came upon the hoard. It was a vast city. It had all of the old sky-terror style buildings that were popular with the Unpeople. But they weren’t the sole structures. Littered among them were goblin-style mansion tenements, hard stone dwarven fortresses, and even delicate glass elven ring buildings. Though to name all the styles of buildings in this patchwork city would take ages. 

“Gods above,” muttered Jessup. “It’s so durned beautiful, I could cry.” 

Then they saw it. They saw the monstrous form of Remrurro. His wings stretched out to cover the roofless ceiling and eclipse the constantly burning artificial sun by which the city was lit. For a moment, Jessup and Vial thought that Remrurro’s wings could envelope the entire planet as he swept over the city and over to the ledge that they stood on. 

In the air, the dragon seemed to shrink and curl up into a ball before landing at the troupe. He decided to take on a more pleasant, human-adjacent shape. Towering, though. He was as tall as Glasha, with skin made up of red scales and pseudo-clothes made up of harder scales like something from an age of warriors in armor. His face, though, still held the reptilian beak quality, and his eyes were those of a hunter, predator with slit irises. A smile curled across the dragon’s face, and Jessup realized at once that they were standing before something akin to a physical god. Jessup was less than nothing to this thing. 

“Welcome to my hoard,” said Remrurro. “I hope you will find your stay most welcome.” 

“It’s quite the sight to see one of these old cities again, though heavily modified,” said Ailuin. 

“Indeed,” said Remrurro. “I wanted to conquer it back when the Unpeople still dwelt in their meadhalls and ring dwellings. But it was so easy to snatch it up after they left for the stars.” 

“It’s quite the feat,” said Glasha. 

“Thank you,” said Remrurro. “I hope within two years that we’ll be able to have a railway pass through the mountain with us as a stop.” 

“It would certainly ease things, travel-wise,” said Ailuin. 

“Yes,” said Remrurro. “Walk with me, pornographers.” 

The troupe walked with Remrurro down a set of carved steps that led down into the city proper, and silently they wove through the streets proper to see people of different races and class backgrounds interacting in large and small ways. 

“I like to walk through the city in this form. It’s gentle, I think,” said Remrurro. “But I would never assume the form of a man. I want the people to know who I am. The master of their fates, the city controller.” 

Jessup felt their stomach tighten as they wandered around the city before they came across the main building. An adobe and glass spire in the center of the city. 

“This is my keep,” said Remrurro. “I think it’s humble.” 

They strode inside and marched up the stairs to the peak room where Remrurro sat upon a throne like a king from the old world. 

“I have easy desires,” said Remrurro. “I want to commission a play that inspires greater faith in my abilities. I have worshippers among the residents of the city. Kobolds, goblins, etc. But I have trouble with longer-lived races. Dwarves and Elves are especially tricky.”

“So, you want us to make a play where longer-lived folks worship you?” asked Ailuin. 

“Yes,” said Remrurro. “You would do nicely, elf. Even if you stink of the grave.” 

Ailuin’s eyes widened, and he lifted his arm to smell himself. 

“It isn’t literal,” said Remrurro. “I can just tell you and your orc are vampiric.” 

“She isn’t my orc,” corrected Ailuin with a hint of venom in his voice. “We’re married.” 

“Weird,” said Remrurro. “Granted, I don’t fully understand marriage.” 

“We’ll do your commissioned play, but we have one request,” said Glasha, her voice hard as stone. “We’d like for you to be a participant.” 

“Oh?” asked Remrurro. “I was about to say. I like this prospect better than one of you dressing up as a dragon.” 

---

Vial walked onto the stage, once again naked and carrying a bullhorn to get everyone’s attention. The people in the audience screamed and wept at the sight of him and his pendulum penis. They weren’t ready for the barrage of jokes that would follow.

“Y’know, dating is really hard when you’ve got a bit cock,” said Vial. “On account’a I can’t get hard without passing out!” 

The audience booed. People screamed. The hordes that made up the Red Mesa Hoard City wanted Vial’s blood. 

“I feel that,” said Vial. “Anyways. Tonight’s show is a special thing. It’s the story of a man and his loves. If you can describe anything here as being close to love.” 

The curtains parted, and the audience was treated to the sight of the architect of their small world, Remrurro. He was naked, his hard armored scales shifted to show off a set of almost humanoid pectorals and abs. 

On their hands and knees were Glasha and Ailuin, servicing Remrurro’s thick, red cock. Ailuin ran his tongue along the ribbed ridge that ran along the underside of the dragon’s shaft while Glasha worked and sucked on the semi-pronged head. 

“This is the fate of even the longest lived,” said Remrurro. 

He rested his hands on their hands and bucked his hips as they started to kiss on either side of his monstrous length. Once his member was sufficiently lubed, Remrurro gestured at Ailuin for him to get up. When he didn’t, the dragon seized the vampiric elf by his hair and dogwalked him over to a table, where he was subsequently bent over. 

His cock easily slid into the elf’s tight, waiting hole. The size of his member shifted as he plunged in and out of Ailuin. His balls smacked against Ailuin’s like the metal spheres on a Newton’s cradle. 

The dragon’s long tongue lolled out of his mouth as he began to viciously fuck the elf.

Unlike what was advertised, this was not an act of love, but pure, unbridled lust. 

He was so lost in elf ass that he didn’t notice that Glasha was sneaking behind him on her tiptoes with her axe, kept sharp even after all these centuries. 

Remrurro slipped his cock out of Ailuin’s ass and blasted him in the back of the head with his positively scorching hot seed. I mean this in a literal sense. The seed left burn marks on the vampire’s back and burned off bits of his hair.

Initially, Ailuin was rather upset that the dragon pulled out, but when he felt the burning, he was grateful that the monster pulled out. 

With one mighty swing, Glashas brought her axe along broadside and lopped off the dragon’s head, sending the horned visage flying to the side and rocketing a jet of blood from his neck stump. 

The vampires unhinged their jaws to catch the flying blood even as the audience scrambled to find exits from the theater. 

---

Jessup sat in their caravan after the show had ended. The show had been something of a bust since they found that Remrurro did not keep gold. He really did hoard cities. And the city he’d been keeping as his ultimate prize for so long was gradually emptying.

“Why didja do it?” asked Jessup.

“He was horrible,” said Glasha. “All that nonsense about wanting to lord over everyone, even the long-lived. The fact that he referred to me as Ailuin’s property. It just didn’t sit well with us.”

“But didja have to kill’em? We could have just gone to a different city,” said Jessup.

“I also wanted to get fucked by a dragon; it’s kind of a bucket list lay,” said Ailuin. 

“Bucket list? But you’re immortal!” said Jessup. 

“Undead, but yeah, it’s still something I wanted to do,” said Ailuin. 

“Did the blood even taste good?” asked Jessup.

“No, not really, it was very metallic. Like eating a handful of coins,” said Glasha.