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Dick Powers · (01-28-2022)

Sex Dungeons & Bad Dragons

Our story begins in a place where all epic adventures start.

A tavern.

Within the mystical kingdom of Californication nestled within the bosom of Los Aasimon, lies the town of Melrose Plaice. A bustling market town filled with diverse races from Halflings to Goliaths, Dwarves to Elves and even this one tree that lures people into the woods and peer pressures them to smoke dankroot. Passing the stalls and busy cobbled roads we duck into a side street entering a seedy bar named Pryce's Pub; owned by the most dastardly Gnome you ever did meet, one Theodorc Pryce, a former merchant turned pimp who won the tavern in a pissing contest uses it mainly to promote his guild with his Elven cohort, Vianna Lome, the Xtreme Warriors Federation. Some Ponzi scheme to get hot oiled-up barbarians to fight to the death. Besides that, Theodorc is a solid dude and runs a nice hive of scum and villainy where the action is strictly non-stop.

Going up the wooden stairs we enter one of the rooms above; the door swings open and you see the might bulge of...

"Dick "The Rock-Hard" Powers! Bard of Legend!"

Dick stands proudly, his hands on his hips posing in the morning sun piercing the steamed window, a busty maiden lays satisfied in bed, she covers her chest and raises an eyebrow looking up towards the tall half-human, half-god, all-fuckable, Dick.

"Why do you announce yourself every time you bust a nirn-nut?"

Dick twirls around grabbing his lute to the side and strums a chord.

"Firstly, babe, just say nut, there's no need to be specific to the magical and different world we all live in and secondly, you never know when your story is gonna begin and I know chapter one will start once I lay my seed in your forbidden garden."

Before she can even respond Dick has already leaped out of the room with a heroic "AH-HAH!" diving feet first into adventure as well as that invisible step on the stairs, not the magical kind, just when you think there's an extra step and there's not and you end up tripping on air, you know that kind? And Dick goes into a fall but rolls a 20 on an acrobatics test and rotates into a sweet front-flip and powerslides onto the first floor fingering the lute with such expertise that the wood of the instrument moans under the strain, basically squirting out a harmonic melody casting charm person onto every creature in the room who stands into an ovation as Dick Powers gets to his feet. Even the mimic disguised in the corner revealed himself to let out a wolf whistle but he was immediately descended upon and destroyed by rowdy orcs who killed him so hard that the mimic's ghost was sent to double hell.

And nobody cared.

Dick gives a bow to the crowd before leaning up against the bar, a frothing stein of ale sliding into his open palm. The bartender walks over to Dick cleaning a mug.

"Quite the entrance Mr. Powers."

"I live to inspire, friend. Say, quite the crowd in today. What's the occasion?"

Dick takes a hearty sip of ale.

"Haven't you heard? Everyone has gathered to challenge The Champion."

Foam sprays from Dick, covering the bartender in a bukkake of beer. He sets down the stein and looks at him with wide eyes.

"Caedus is here!? Did he bring his jester, Robert?"

"Not that champ."

"Oh." Dick ponders for a moment. "Don't tell me The Nickleman has cometh?"

"Oh no. He never leaves his realm of Midcardia."

"Reginald of Estrada, then? Ambassador of Anarchy, Elijah?"

"Nope."

"Then who?"

"Champion of the Supercontinent. Corey Smith!"

"Oh."

Dick becomes dejected, going back to his ale and looking around the room.

"You're not going to participate?"

"Why? Corey hasn't been relevant in eons, when was even the last time he won Star of the Season let alone be acknowledged? Defeating him in combat won't earn much prowess nor will it yield me riches and whores. I'd just be stuck where he is, too stubborn to try something new and too scared of The Man with No Name or the Long Lost Queen Lacklan to challenge for the greatest prize in the Universe."

The bartender looks down sadly.

"I think he's quite legendary."

"Of course you would, you're a simpleton remembering when he was possessed by the spirit of a warrior elf, or when he was possessed by the great ancient entity known as En-Gi after being seduced by that xenophobe bitch. Apart from that, he hung on to that skinny kid's tales for Tiamat knows how long and coasted every duel he was a part of. My dude is a weak potion of punk-ass."

Dick goes back to his drink as a young boy rushes up to him boasting a letter.

"Message for you, sir!"

Dick takes the letter with suspicion.

"If I'm getting served I'm casting full cripple on you, kid."

Dick's eyes widen noticing the black stamp and his hands slowly tremble. His pupils stare at the bone-white envelope, the subtle details on the wax, by god, it even has a watermark. Slicing the letter open with his thumbnail he reads the contents of the letter.

"Mother of fuck, my ass got drafted!"

Dick clicks his fingers and the letter bursts into flames, the bartender wafts the smoke away with the rag he was using to clean.

"You thought about moving to Canada?"

Yes, even this world has a Canada and it even has free magic healthcare unless like this backward ass realm, thanks Orcbama.

"Ew? And move where? Minotauronto? Fuck that noise. Goddamn Mr. Big and his dumb ass Big House making me fight for a title I don't even want. Like, if I wanted responsibility I wouldn't be a carefree roaming, handsome bard! Making me face Corey Smith... I don't wanna face that nerd! My dude is the persona of pins and needles. Fucking looks like he hit his funny bone a year ago and just gave up on life. Like he wrote an epic one day long ago and knows he will never top it so has to seek approval at every corner like a neglected child."

"Well, you'll need to get through the others even if you wanted to face him."

"Who?"

"They're in this room. Look around, they're wearing house insignias."

Dick sneers spinning on his stool and looks around with a groan. His eyes go to a Giant wearing an old, mammoth fur that he has fashioned into a singlet. He sits at a table yet still towers over everyone standing; the chair cracks under his weight. He shows several scars from battle, carved deeply into his thick hide, most from lost duels and wild encounters as he digs through the refuse piles in search for food. He is often seen around town at the job board signing up for quests yet never showing up to them. His labored breath can be heard under the chatter of the tavern, a side effect of his immense weight, his extended brow and small cranium highly suggest he wouldn't even know how to drink let alone order one at the bar so instead, he chooses the count the number of rings in the tree trunk table in front of him. Sadly, he can only count up to the number of his duel wins.

"Pffft. Rampage? The barbarian that was hastily named and has been pissed off about it ever since? He's still around!? He earned the title of Stageplay Champion like a year ago and has done literally nothing since then! I thought he fell into a well or something. The only thing he has going for him is that he's tall. And he has the biggest tits in the tri-settlement area... Man, imagine ruddering those bad boys while he goes to town on you... Huh, new kink. Maybe he could pick up a new career. The tall, silent type make better lovers than fighters anyhow. That ogre is a waste of time; I'm pretty sure a slight breeze could send him to the shadow realm at this point."

Dick's eyes scan the room and land upon a character dressed in a darkened leather duster leaning against a support beam; a toothpick sits in between his teeth as he stays on the sidelines. He eyes show a deep intelligence, he too scans the room sizing up each person with military precision. He pushes the image that he is too cool to be in this tavern amongst unknowns yet his aura exudes the try-hard patheticness of an edge-lord with one angel wing and one devil wing thinly-veiled by the guise that he's "nOt Of ThIs WoRlD".

"Despite how long Jay Omega has been around I know little to fuck all about the prick. But what I do know is that he's just some other bitch whose anger and cockiness truly control him, oh he says he has all the power in the universe but he loses because he can't keep a lid on his emotions like a girlfriend with past trauma. Sure, dude, you could beat me in a straight-up fight until I say your hair looks stupid and you go into a rage reckless attacking until you go down from being an unbridled mongoloid with all the intelligence of a drowned homunculus. Nice one, my guy."

One character catches Dick's eye next, clad in leather armor topped with flamboyant accessories. A young man who has arrived from some far land, he looks lost and confused not too sure why he's here and even if he's in the right place. Not just from a lack of understanding or experience but simply from sheer stupidity and stubbornness not to even learn how to adapt to the situation. Dick slowly blinks.

"Not worth my time."

And the final person Dick's gaze lands upon is the creature simply known as The Chameleon. A doppelganger who thought it was really clever to copy other people's appearance and history to profit himself in literally no way. Like... what? The countless ways you could abuse that power and you choose to enter duels and competitions where you have to fight instead of just straight up conning some idiots is probably the dumbest thing I have ever heard, and I'm just a disembodied voice. As Dick looks at him, The Chameleon looks back taking Dick's visage. Shocked, Powers jumps back but then limitless self-gratifying sexual experiences enter his mind and fright quickly turns to arousal.

"Well, hello there handsome. For a room full of unknowns, it sure is sad that someone with the most potential is the weakest of the lot. Chameleon could literally be anything, and yet he has to choose to be one of us. So sad. I mean I'm the most handsome man in the world with SEXCALIBUR bursting from my stone pelvis but I'll admit I'm no seasoned fighter. I do what I do for money here and there and one-night companions everywhere else but this dude is trying to build a damn career out of pretending to be something he isn't, of copying people better than him. Like, that's just sad and it's not gonna work."

"And the most pathetic part is that this room of losers, myself excluded, is the best they could muster up to go against Corey? Like that's how little he means now... Why is everyone looking at me?"

It finally clicks that Dick has been speaking out loud this entire time. Silence fills the room for a second before we go outside to the door being kicked open and Dick Powers is sent sailing outside and crashes into the mud, his lute tossed into mud beside him. Dick groans as he kneels up, wiping dirt from his fancy garments. Footsteps are heard approaching and the silhouette of a man looms over Dick. A hand extends in front of Powers.

"G'day, cunt." The voice rings out. "You need'a hand?"

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