by Reed James
The chain snapped. She sat up and ripped the gag from her mouth. “Shelly!”
She reached for her sister's gag while I swung for the chain binding Shelly's feet. The younger had small breasts topped by pink nipples, her brown hair gathered in pigtails. She had a round face bursting with joy.
“Erica!” she cried out when the older girl ripped out her gag. My ax fell.
The chain snapped.
I moved around them, feeling the exhilaration of the shared kiss with Maria and Dëshoma. They felt so close to being in my harem. Twist would just like to fuck, and I needed to get Kulri to confide in me what her true quest was before I could grant her the request to allow her to pursue it.
I wasn't about to get caught in some moral dilemma of doing the right thing or keeping a promise I made to her.
SNAP!
The rusting chain snapped and Shelly sat up and embraced her sister. The pair kissed each other's tear-stained cheek and rocked together. I severed the last chain while the pair started prying off the bolts that held the manacles shut.
“Your father asked me to rescue you,” I added. “He's waiting for you.”
“He's alive?” gasped Shelly, staring at me. Such joy burst in her face.
“That he is,” I said, wondering if I should tell them about the deal. “Do you, uh, has anyone seen their clothing?”
“It's been shredded,” Twist said, poking at the corner. She was making a pile of the loot she was finding from the cultists and around the altar. She appeared to have found a chest I hadn't noticed, perhaps because it spawned after Feverblight died, and had looted it. She had a pile of coins, trash loot, and magic items spread out before her.
“Sorry,” I said. “We'll be heading up there.”
“It's fine,” Erica said. “We're alive. You saved us.”
The sisters both slipped off the altar and pressed against me. They gave me chaste kisses on the cheeks, their naked bodies pressing against my armor. My cock, adorned with my piercing, throbbed in my leather pants.
Dëshoma gave me a hard look. A warning look.
I didn't grab either girl's rump. Which was a shame, because they had gorgeous rumps. But I wouldn't take advantage of them. One would be my servant. Maybe something would happen then, but until that happened, I'd let the girls lead. I could get my pleasure from other places.
“Well, this is it,” said Twist. “Let's start divvying it up.” She held up a belt made of woven, golden disks. Hadn't I seen that on the cult leader? It was bright and shiny now. “This polished up nicely. All on its own. I can feel the magic on it.”
Iris darted down and examined it. The little pixie circled it, her wings buzzing fast and hard. “Golden Girdle of Faith Restored,” she announced. “Acolyte item. Gives a boost to your Faith.” The primary stat for Dëshoma's class. “Once a day, you can remove a curse with it.”
“The Goddess Shuwëmeri doth grace me with this gift,” Dëshoma said, taking the girdle from Twist. She wrapped it around her waist, the golden discs sparkling around her slender hips. The coins each were adorned with the busty image of the fertile Goddess. “I shalt honor thy gift, Goddess of Fertility.”
Twist rolled her reptilian eyes.
“Next is this dagger.” She picked up the serpentine blade that Feverblight had wielded. A smile crossed Twist's scaly lips. “What do you think, Iris? Cursed?”
“Surely thou art not intending to wield such a stained and tragic blade?” Dëshoma asked, disgust on her face.
“He ain't using it. Besides, why not use it for something better than butchery.”
Dëshoma's eyebrows knitted tight but she did not comment on it.
“Well, it's not cursed,” Iris said. “And it is a Rogue weapon. It deals extra unholy damage from all the suffering it has absorbed. It has an ability on a two-minute cooldown. You can increase your crit chance for twenty seconds.”
“Perfect,” said Twist. She slipped her poniard into her belt pouch and then sheathed the sacrificial dagger. The scabbard molded to fit the sinuous blade. “Now this looks like yours, Marcus. Found it in the chest.”
Twist tossed an ax at me. It had two heads instead of my one and was made of a burnished copper, the handle carved from a deep-red wood. The Goddess's figure was carved into the haft, her arms reaching up to rest against and support the head. I could feel life brewing in it, a passive ability and a 1/day one.
“The Blessed Ax of Fertile Hew,” Iris reported, her wings buzzing fast. “It heals a slight amount of your Hit Points when you land a blow. More on a crit. Plus, once a day, you can restore all your Hit Points.”
“Would have been useful before we defeated Feverblight,” I said and grinned. But loot was still loot. I would make use of it. I swapped out my weapons, adding the Bloody Bronze Ax to my pouch while this one, a Level 10 weapon, I gripped in my hand.
“This is mine,” said Kulri. She bent down and picked up a pink robe that looked like it would cup her breasts while leaving her belly bare. The tails would fall down her back and sides much like her current set of robes. It had pussy sleeves and holes in the center of the cups. “It appears my nipples shall be on display.”
“She is a Goddess of Fertility,” I said. “Have to be ready to nurse.”
“Oh, my, indeed,” Kulri said, blinking. “It has a... unique property.”
“It'll let her lactate once a day!” giggled Iris. “It'll give any who drink of her milk a buff to all stats that last ten minutes.”
“Yum,” I said.
“It also gives the wearer a penalty to physical attacks, but that hardly is an issue for Kulri,” said Iris. Then the pixie glanced at me. “It also increases her fertility chance. Fitting for the Robe of Shuwëmeri's Gift.”
My cock throbbed, remembering the ring on there. It had a one-time use ability: I could breed the woman I made love to. It made sense. Everything about this place was bent towards that one purpose. It must have been wild to visit while it was active.
“And that leaves this rapier,” said Twist. “I don't think any of us can use it.”
Iris landed on it. “It's a Duelist-class weapon.” She walked along the length of black iron. The blade held an elegant slimness almost like it was forged out of the shadows themselves. As it moved in Twist's hand, it left a slight blur behind. “It has a once a day ability that lets the wielder's next attack always hit and bypass any resistances. Plus, the attack will deal triple damage.”
“Shame no one can use it,” I said.
* * / *
Maria du Marne stared at that elegant blade and something stirred inside of her. She could feel the branching paths before her. Three different roads she could tread upon. She could focus on Strength, or walk a hybrid path with Dexterity and Faith.
Something about that rapier's elegance felt right. She reached out and took it from Twist. She held it before her and her stance shifted. The blade blurred as it moved before her, leaving inky traces of shadows behind it.
“I know the path I wish to walk,” she said; her soul, granted power by her destiny as a Shardhunter, shifted. “No longer do I walk solely down the road of Strength. Now I embrace Dexterity.
“Now I am a Duelist.”
Those words shifted something inside of Maria. She gasped as a new skill blossomed in her mind, Precise Strike. The rapier, which had felt awkward in her grip, now felt comfortable, the balance of the thin blade more appropriate for the new, more graceful, fighting style she would pursue. She could still perform a Hard Strike but the idea of wielding her current shield was unappealing.
Something lighter, perhaps, she thought. A buckler would be perfect.
“It fits you,” Marcus said, his eyes on her.
She shifted, blushing, then glanced at Twist. “So you didn't find the Tear of Ethileri?”
Twist glanced at Maria. The reptilian rogue's lips grinned. “I might be a thief, but I always split my loot with my partners in crime.”
“Twist, our purpose in this once
grand temple was not one of base larceny but of ensuring a brighter future. By our courage, have not we maintained Shuwëmeri's sanctification upon these hallowed grounds?”
“For you, maybe.” The thief shrugged at Dëshoma. “Didn't find anything like a tear.”
“This is, perhaps, not the appropriate temple to search it out in, Lady Maria,” Dëshoma added. “Searching through Ethileri's temple would be more conducive to finding one of her divine artifacts.”
“Ethileri's a goddess?” Marcus asked.
“Of healing,” said Dëshoma.
“Even I know that,” Twist said, shaking her head. “How remote is where you're from, Marcus?”
“You would not believe it.” He chuckled. “Well, Maria, I guess you're stuck adventuring with me a while longer.”
“I guess so,” Maria said and felt a surge of guilt at how much joy that brought her. The men in her village, Derrick among them, needed her to find the artifact. They had a few months at most before the Cock-Wilting Plague killed them.
“And there was a single shard,” Twist added. She tossed it to Marcus. “Party leader, I suppose this is yours. Perhaps I'll stick around and see what treasures I'll find with you.” She glanced down at the collection of coins split into five piles and grinned.
“Before we depart for the surface, may I pray, Lord Marcus?” Dëshoma asked.
* * / *
Dëshoma closed her eyes. She could feel that path branching before her. Three choices. Three classes. She could continue down her current path of Faith and become a Priest, or she could focus more on the martial and become a Disciple, and lastly she could refine her mind with Intelligence, studying the why of religion, theology, as a Cleric. Her intuition prodded her towards one, but she wanted to pray and meditate on her choice. Once made, it could not be changed.
But that wasn't why she prayed.
She clasped her hands before her, head bowed. She was unaware of the others watching her in silence, even Twist. Dëshoma felt the faint traces of Shuwëmeri lingering in the stones of the sanctum. Though Dëshoma patronized Ëshuxeri, she served all the Gods of Light and Order. From Dihhomamer, their leader and God of Light, to Axyileri, the Goddess of Pleasure.
“Shuwëmeri,” she prayed, barely more than a whisper, “I pray that thy anger towards the folly we mortals possess has waned since the Shattering. The world is in need of Thy and Thy fellow siblings' order once more. Your passions must shine throughout this broken and pitiful world. Where there is now pain, pleasure must flourish. Where there is war, protection must arise to safeguard the innocent. Where there is crime, law must again rule to provide stability to those living in fear. Where destruction breaks, creation must rebuild. Where betrayal hardens the hearts of men and women, faith must soothe scared wounds. Where lust dost pervert the purpose of life, love must flourish to bring us closer. Where the cloak of dark doth lie, light must shine to drive back night. And where rot doth fester and putrefy, fertility must kindle new life to flourish.
“So, gentle Shuwëmeri, let Thy fertility spread once more through the cracked lands. Let Thy gentle nourishment sustain Your lost children in these dark times of ruin and woe. From Thy temple, let the miracle of life's renewal spread to suffuse every womb and enhance every seed. Have not Your mortal children suffered enough for our ancestors' misguided sin?
“Let the Hierophant's sentence be commuted. Allow the rebirth to begin.”
Gasps rose around her.
* * / *
A presence swelled through the temple at the end of Dëshoma's moving words. Something settled around us, pouring into the rocks and stones. The two sisters held each other in naked awe. Maria fell to her knees in reverence. Swayed in her spot. Twist's cynicism melted away for a moment. Then she closed her eyes, a tear forced down her cheek.
It swept over me. I felt it in the root of my cock. In the depths of my balls. A tingling blessing. The cock ring vibrated, stimulating me as the temple came alive. The grime of eons, dirt and dust and detritus that stained the walls faded. The stones grew brighter. The altar held the color of fresh milk. A light seemed to glow through every corner of the room.
“The temple stirs to life,” said Kulri.
“It shall summon new adherents,” Dëshoma said, opening her eyes. “It is beginning. The end of our punishment.” Joy shone across her face as she stared up at me. “Lord Marcus, I thank thee for coming to mine aid. It was folly for me to come here alone. I, too, shall travel with thee. And not just as your party member. Thou art special. I can feel it. If thou wouldst have me, I would be thine.”
“Join my harem?” I asked.
“If I cannot be thy wife, I would be thy concubine. To travel at thy side as we quest to mend our broken world.”
I held out my hand to her. “I would have you, Lady Dëshoma. Gladly. You are a radiant flower. A bright daisy shining in the sun.” The poetry of my words surprised me, but her words moved this elegance in me. “I would gladly add you to my garden.”
She took my hands and I felt a shift. She wasn't just my party member, but a part of my harem. It was another magic in this world. A connection that deepened between us. I almost didn't want to sully it with RPG terms, but I knew she was a permanent member. One day, the others might part to continue their own quests. Maria when she found her Tear, Kulri when she discovered what she searched for, and Twist when she grew bored.
Not Dëshoma.
I helped her stand, pulled her to me, and kissed her on the lips. The sweetness felt incredible. Her halo glowed brighter. Iris buzzed around our heads, cheering in celebration. I felt the other three party members watching.
What were they thinking? I had no idea, but I was glad that I had my Dëshoma. My delightful acolyte.
I wondered what class she would pick? I could feel my own choice. Duelist was one, but there was the path focusing more on strength. Not a Fighter any longer, but a Warrior. Then there was the route of faith. To become a holy warrior, a Paladin.
Which to choose?
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Harem Grows
“Papa!” the two girls shouted as they rushed to their father waiting outside the temple. Unashamed of their nudity, they hugged him.
He held his daughters tight, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. He met my gaze, his grin broadening. The absolute hope and joy that blazed in his gaze made me feel better than I had in my life. I had really done something momentous.
I had saved those two girls from being killed. This world was too real for me not to feel these emotions. I almost wanted to cry. Maria and Dëshoma were crying, both of them wiping at their eyes. The sunlight fell on us, the forests surrounding the ruined temple chirping with birds.
“My darling daughters,” the old man said. “Praise be the Gods of Light and Order. You're safe.”
“We're so sorry, Papa,” said Shelly. “We didn't mean to be captured.”
“To make you worry,” added Erica. “And we didn't find any Heartleaf or Wildthorn berries.”
“That doesn't matter.” He relaxed his hold on them. He glanced down and his face went red. “Er, well, doesn't matter at all. Just matters that you're safe.” He swallowed and met my gaze. “I know I promised to hand one over to be your servant.”
“You did, Papa?” gasped Shelly.
The old man stared at me and I expected the pleading to allow him to reward me in another way. I was prepared to agree, when he said, “My Erica is a great seamstress. Can sew the best clothes.” He pushed the oldest forward, her round breasts jiggling. “Now my youngest is a cook unlike any other. You get her the ingredients, and she shall create feasts for you and your companions to enjoy.”
The sisters took hands. “Thank you for rescuing us,” the eldest said. “I would be honored to aid you and your fellow Shardhunters in any way possible.”
“As would I,” Shelly said, her cheeks blushing red. “I truly am skilled in the kitchen. My food is said to give strength to the workers of our village and provide more
endurance than others.”
“And we would be willing to do other things,” Erica added.
Shelly nodded, her cheeks scarlet.
My dick throbbed. “You'd be willing to be concubines? Members of my harem.” This would make three.
Shelly nodded again, even more vigorously, while her sister said, “Of course, sir. Shardhunters are the hope for our future. Whichever one of us you choose will serve you well.”
Twist chuckled. “I know how they can serve me.”
“Do not cheapen their offer with your vulgarity,” Dëshoma said.
“Why, they've already done it.”
I ignored them and focused on the two beauties. They were both tempting. Erica had those round breasts with their perky delights while Shelley had that barely legal nubility about her. Blushing in her virginal arousal, embarrassed and horny all at the same time. It was so hard to choose.
Which one would be more useful to me. While Erica might be a fine seamstress, I wore metal armor. She could benefit Dëshoma and Kulri, if the elf stayed around, but not myself or others. On the other hand, Shelly's cooking sounded like it would produce all manner of passive party buffs that could be useful in my future adventures.
I held out my hand to Shelly.
She smiled and extended a trembling hand. When she grasped my hand, the harem magic flooded out of me and into her. She was mine now. Part of my harem. She gasped and shivered. Her little breasts quivered. Her smile grew.
“Oh, Shelly, I'll miss you!” Erica said. “I'll come and visit whenever I can.”
The two sisters embraced and kissed each other on the cheek. Then Shelly hugged her father tight. He wished her well, tears streaming from his eyes again. They were full of joy. He was parting with his daughter, but he knew she would be safe.
None of the local wildlife attacked us on the way back to the Shardpool. We left the old man and Erica behind. I hoped nothing bad would happen to them in their quest for crafting materials. After a few minutes, we reached the pool and stepped in. I was the party leader and chose the location.