Truth

by Prax Venter

He watched one such wolf-woman dressed in nothing but a leather bikini summon a white-hot jet of fire out of her palm as she targeted a ball of molten glass. The tan-furred beauty then turned her toned muscles toward pumping a set of bellows, blowing air inside the ball. She had wild red hair, bright pink eyes, and fur-covered cleavage.

  Mark felt compelled to Enthrall her on the spot. But Loa led them onward, and his attention was yanked from one wonder to the next.

  “All Vulpath can use magic?” he asked their four-armed guide.

  “All the ones I’ve seen have one of three elemental affinities. Earth, Fire, or Wind. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t… oddities.”

  He could see into her emotions and knew the mid-sized Skeema was thinking about herself. She seemed so normal to him that Mark forgot she was considered an oddity by her people- a Twig instead of a Tree or a Stone. His focus centered on the lithe dancer in front of him and her unique gifts…

  Then a realization struck Mark in the brain so hard he stopped walking and just stared at Loa. She knew the area in a street-smart way, she was looking for a new life, she needed money, and she seemed honest. He could bring her to the Awysai chieftain as a replacement for their current traveling merchant.

  Loa was potentially the perfect gift.

  All three of his group stopped when they realized he was no longer following.

  “What is it?” Loa asked.

  “Oh nothing,” Mark said, his cursed eye pulsing as he lied. “Please lead us to the best place to sell our merchandise.” He gave her a big smile. She shrugged and continued.

  Sasha and Jezebel both caught his eye as they knew he was super excited about something. He just gave them a devilish grin and followed their guide. As they climbed up the statues to the next level, he thought of all the ways he could pitch the idea to her.

  That was, until the biting cold really began to take hold. Violent gusts of wind assaulted them and passed right through his base-level, silk garments. Jezebel was miserable, her arms crossed over her stomach, and Sasha had her leathery wings pulled in tight against her back.

  “Shit, you weren’t kidding,” Mark said, his breath turning to steam as it was ripped from his mouth. “Let’s conduct our business and get out of here.”

  The Wind Level of Thomellia lived up to its name, and the four of them hurried behind the four-armed Skeema through the dusting of powdery snow swirling in the streets. In stark contrast to the other two levels, there were a lot fewer people and almost no artists crafting their works out in the open. However, they did pass a group of what appeared to be half-naked wooly mammoth men laughing through their furry trunks as they exited a building with the words “The Biting Barmaid” written over the door.

  Mark noticed every building had at least one windchime hanging near the entrance- in some cases many windchimes, and the constant and discordant dinging was quickly becoming ridiculous.

  When Loa made a quick right and into a large stone-brick building called “The Last Grain”, everyone breathed a sigh of warm, quiet relief. The inside was similar to Mav’s Magics in that the walls were lined with jars filled with random substances, but this place was about ten times the size. There were multiple rooms arranged around a central hearth that flickered with an undeniably enchanted purple flame.

  A handful of Vulpath dressed in stunning, colorful robes perused the racks, but only one turned to look at the door before going back to their business. To the immediate right was a long wooden counter and behind it was a gray furred wolf working on a painting of a vibrant butterfly.

  Loa nodded her head toward what must have been the proprietor, and they all moved over to the counter. The painter appeared to be an elderly wolf-woman. Her hand tremored slightly as she attempted to apply a thick blob of a plum purple into the insect’s wing and then Mark was astonished to see her blast the pigment with a gust of wind from her clawed finger. It was as if she was using an invisible airbrush to move the color around with surprising control.

  Another wolf-man came out of a doorway behind the counter and noticed Mark and the monster-women standing around him. He had sharp yellow eyes that scanned them over tiny spectacles perched on his long muzzle. He also had gray fur but covered most of it with a frayed, unbuttoned flannel shirt and looked to be on the elderly side himself. No one really seemed to wear pants among these wolf people.

  “Oh, welcome,” he said, pushing his glasses up his snout. “What a unique group of Enthralled you have, Collector.”

  “What, Barol?” the painting woman said without turning from her work, her tall ears swiveling to try and hear him better.

  The Vulpath potentially named Barol turned and yelled his response.

  “Nothing, dear! Keep at your work!”

  She grunted and did just that.

  He returned his kind animal eyes back to Mark. “Sorry about that. My wife’s a bit long in the tooth and deaf in the ear. Now, what can I provide for you?”

  Mark looked over at Loa, who reached one of her hands over and plucked a vial from Jezebel’s belt.

  “We have a supply of Eternal Echo we’d like to trade for coin, kind sir.”

  The old painting woman swiveled her canine head around, and Mark saw her milky-white eyes. She looked ancient.

  “EE for sale?” she croaked, and Mark smiled. The old wolf seemed to hear Loa just fine. “Is it pure?”

  Barol chuckled and exposed his fangs in a way Mark was learning was their version of smiling. The shopkeeper held out his paw while his wife hopped off her stool and approached the counter. Loa handed the older wolf-man the vial, and he sniffed at it with his black nose.

  “Lemme get a snort,” his shorter wife said, shoving her own head around her husband’s arm. She closed her half-blind eyes and pulled in a deep breath through her nose. She coughed a little, turning her muzzle to the side then returned her gaze to Mark.

  “A unique Skeema Twig, a unique succubus, and a unique satyr? Hmm, you must be one busy Lover,” she said, looking down her nose. “You sure you want to sell this?”

  Mark nodded toward the unique Skeema by his side.

  “Loa here is my contact, not my Enthralled, and she brought me very far to see you specifically. She’s the one making the decision of whether we sell to you or not.”

  The old wolf-woman crossed her arms under her large sagging breasts, smearing paint from the brush she still held all over her chest. It didn’t look like it was the first time.

  “Three gold per dose,” the woman said.

  Mark internally jumped for joy- this was three times what they got from Mav.

  Loa plucked the vial from Barol’s paw and slipped it back into its loop on Jezebel’s belt, then turned to Mark.

  “We’re leaving,” she said, but Mark’s eye whispered a faint shadow into his mind. She was bluffing. Mark nodded and played along.

  “If you say so,” he said, turning to go.

  “Now hold on there, young lady,” Barol said, putting his paws down on the counter. “Since it seems to be freshly made, I think we could bump that to four gold, fifty silver.”

  Mark watched for Loa’s reaction. She stopped and turned back to face the couple.

  “Six gold per dose,” the dancer said.

  “Five,” the old wolf woman countered quickly. “Five’s a lucky number. And I’ll even throw in one more gold for that lucky crystal lion core you’ve tucked in your belt, Collector.”

  Mark glanced down at the purple crystal he’d kept for use as a makeshift dagger. He’d never used it once. He checked with his economic advisor, and Loa gave him a sharp nod.

  “Sounds like we can do business after all,” he said, slipping the crystal out with his thumb.

  A few moments later they were down 5 vials of pure Awysai love drugs and 1 crystal lion core- but up a whopping 26 gold. Mark didn’t know how much the salamander people got when doing business with their regular merchant, but he had a feeling this was considerably more.

  - 12 -

>   “This is for you,” Mark said, handing Loa three of the gold coins from his pocket.

  “Mark…” the dancer said, her almond-shaped, gray eyes going wide. “This is far too much. I’ve… I never…”

  On their way back down, they had stopped to talk on the Fire Level of Thomellia where the hard-working artisans kept the area nice and toasty despite the elevation. Mark shook his head and spoke over her stammering.

  “No. It’s a fair percentage. I also want to ask you for a big favor. The Awysai tasked us with selling these vials and reporting an unbiased price-point. They believe their current contact is skimming a lot of the profit for themselves. I want to bring you back and suggest that you work for them instead. You would take their product and sell it, exactly like you just did.”

  She looked down at the coins resting in one of her four hands and then back up to Mark.

  “You’re offering me a job?”

  He nodded. “It’s not dancing, and the Awysai have to make the final call, but… yeah. The chieftain asked me to bring back a special gift for a chance at their weapon-summoning magic. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do. But you’re perfect.”

  “Yes,” Loa said breathlessly, then reached all four of her arms around him, wrapping him tightly and pinning his own arms to his sides. Mark took a moment to wonder if all the women of this world smelled so irresistible.

  She pulled away and scanned the surrounding buildings. “Come,” Loa said, taking his hand with one of hers. “I need some supplies.”

  Mark looked back at Sasha and Jezebel as she dragged him forward. Both were gazing at him with adoration in their eyes and soft smiles on their lips.

  Loa spoke over her shoulder as she led them down a side street. “First I want to grab a Recall Charm before we go. You should probably get one too.”

  “What’s a Recall Charm?” Jezebel asked as she clomped up near the dancer.

  “They’re one-use items that teleport you to preset places. They’re usually expensive, but they give them away like candy in Thomellia because, well they can afford it, but they also want to make it easy for people to come here and buy their works of art.”

  “Yeah, we could use that,” the green-eyed satyr nodded. “Especially if we are coming back here for the shards.”

  “That is, if that disgusting thief didn’t steal them all first,” Sasha added from behind him.

  Mark’s thoughts turned to their real goal. They still had yet to secure even one of the stupid things. He caught sight of Jezebel’s tiny doe tail popping out from under her pink t-shirt as she hurried alongside Loa and lingered on her soft, thick thighs. His thoughts on their progress instantly flipped. He was an ageless digital being who didn’t need to eat or drink, and he was surrounded by powerful sex-demons.

  Why rush things?

  They’d walk back to the Awysai, finish the quest, get stronger and then decide which crazy place to go looking for shards first. The soul-eating Dreamcatcher at the top of this mountain, or the Wrongside portal into an alternate dimension. Each location was rumored to have four Crystal Heart shards, but if the magic portal led to a whole new world, they could be searching for a long time- that was, if that thief hadn’t gotten any more ahead of them. There was a lot to do, and Mark was looking forward to building his team’s power as well as his own.

  A few twists and turns later, they moved past a row of flame-wielding, blacksmith Vulpath who also doubled as their own forge and then they arrived at their destination.

  “One Copper Jerky?” Mark said looking up at the hanging placard.

  Loa paused at the wooden door. “It’s been about ten years since I was last here. I’m glad the shop is still here.” Mark could tell she was reliving old memories as she stared past the door, and he saw a swirl of emotions within the four-armed Skeema. Regret, shame, hope, and determination all clashed for dominance in her mind. She harnessed that last one as she pushed open the door.

  The place was packed with tables and shelves all containing countless piles of objects. Weapons, rope, lanterns, tools, racks of clothes, and along one wall were bins lined with hanging dried meats. White signs indicated the type of meat and flavor. He saw a few versions of beef, but ‘Ankylosaur - Peppered’ and ‘Basilisk - Dill’ stood out. The smoky aroma created an old-world atmosphere that was both inviting and relaxing.

  “Look around, be with you in a moment,” called a deep voice from somewhere near the back of the old shop.

  Loa moved among the merchandise and led them to a wooden counter. Sitting behind it was a slate-gray Vulpath male with black stripes patterned into his coat and a pipe clamped in his muzzle. He was currently hunched over a stack of parchments with a quill in his paw, furiously scribbling away. The wolf-man seemed lost in his own world.

  “Sell any books yet, Nalo?” Loa said, her voice soft.

  The creature snapped his hazel eyes up, and he straightened.

  “Loa?” he said, slowly taking the pipe out of his mouth.

  “Hi Nally,” she said as she slapped one of her three gold coins down on the counter. “Here is the money I owe you… and payment for some supplies I’ll be needing.”

  The wolf-man shifted his eyes across Mark, Sasha, and Jezebel and then focused back on Loa as he stood up.

  “What? Supplies? All this time I thought you were dead!”

  She held out all four of her arms, palms up. “Nope, but I am so very sorry for skipping out on you.”

  Nalo shook his head slowly. “Shit, well it’s good to see you again. Really good. You look exactly the same.”

  Mark’s new eye told him that they definitely had an intimate past together.

  Loa tapped the coin on the counter with one of her hands. “Well, no more handouts. I am a paying customer now.”

  The Vulpath shopkeeper glanced over at Mark again and then down to the heart ring he wore.

  “You joined a damn battle harem?” he said putting his paws on the counter and flexing his considerable muscles in a deliberate display.

  “No,” Loa said quickly, “these are my traveling companions. Mark, Sasha, and Jezebel.”

  Mark offered his hand to Nalo and said, “Good to meet you.”

  “Mmm,” the wolf-man growled, wrapping his huge clawed hand around Mark’s. He got the feeling that this creature could rip his arm off without trying too hard.

  “Nal, we have work to do, and I promise not to vanish on you again, but we need a few things before heading out.”

  “What do you need, darlin’?” he asked, stepping around the counter.

  “Two Recall Charms, bigger pack, a new cloak…” she paused and looked over at Mark. “Also, whatever Mark and his Enthralled need too. It’s on me.”

  “Loa…” Mark started, wondering just how far one gold went.

  “No,” she said, cutting both right arms through the air. “I got this. No arguments.”

  After a brief discussion and some shopping, it was decided that Jezebel would be the pack mule for their group. She acquired a small backpack and a midnight-blue hooded cloak that ended just below her thighs.

  Sasha’s wings made it difficult to find something that fit, but Nalo was used to dealing with beast-people and skillfully cut out a section of red leather from the back of a tight-fitting coat. It left her legs exposed, but the succubus said her chrome bottom-half didn’t really feel extreme temperatures. She looked amazing.

  Mark found an old leather jacket that fit him perfectly, and both Jezebel and Sasha’s libido spiked when they saw him wearing it, making the decision easy.

  If they were going to the top of this mountain, they’d need these warmer clothes. He almost went for a dented iron mace with a worn wooden handle, but it felt like that was betting on failure. If he couldn’t get the summoned weapon ability, they’d just come back and buy a better weapon. All their gear barely fit into the backpack on Jezebel’s back, but he felt more prepared for their return trip back to the top of this frozen mountain.

 
; The four-armed Skeema was practically buzzing with excitement, and she insisted they leave right away. She chewed down some homemade jerky from Nalo as she hugged him and said she’d be back to catch up very soon.

  Before he knew it, they were down the mountain and halfway to the Chain of Lakes. Loa said that they just needed to follow the river straight south and they should reach their destination before darkness. Distance in this digital universe seemed odd to Mark. As if it were compressed somehow. He wanted to talk about it with Sasha and Jezebel but mentioning that this world was only a game or a simulation in front of Loa didn’t seem like a good idea.

  Without any stops, and no multi-armed undead getting in their way, they reached the Awysai chieftain’s giant mud dome just as the orange sun dipped below the tree line. While Mark watched a group of salamander warriors training out in front of the impressive structure, a warm wind picked up and blew leaves across the open ground. A low rumble in the sky from miles off foretold of a coming storm.

  He led the three monster-women confidently up to the entrance where Amina was already waiting for them… as onyx-skinned and naked as he remembered.

  “I heard of your swift return from scouts. I welcome you back, Mark,” she said, extending her three-fingered hand to him in greeting. He grabbed her smooth arm as she had when they attempted this gesture before. The warrior’s pure blue eyes held him for a heartbeat longer than he expected and then she turned her short snout to the women standing behind him.

  “I also welcome Sasha, Jezebel… and a Skeema?”

  Mark nodded back to the dancer wearing her poncho-like cloak. “This is Loa, she’s a friend.”

  “I welcome you as well, Loa,” the sleek salamander said with no hesitation. “I will take you to the chieftain.”

  He turned back to gather his party with a glance and then followed the chieftain’s daughter deeper into the massive dome.

  They moved down the bush-lined path and came to the ethereal, giant Awysai Goddess currently being pleasured by a male and a female. Both were running their hands over each other as they pressed their snouts and pink tongues together over the ghost’s translucent pussy.