Early Incomplete Draft: VORE

VORE: Voluptuous Orgasmic Rapturous End

A Smuthunter Story

Or, VORE: Violet, Orchid, Rose, Execution…

“The Deep Forest is no place to travel alone.”

The words of the wise, which were also the words of the tiresome came to Harold’s mind as he stood at a crossroad with his friends Pitt and Lance, “Well lads here we are, the white stone path a mile back, and now we’re face to face with a daunting choice, left or right? Rumor tells of a manor house deep in the thorn dome, and I think that’s south of us, so left, but I doubt there’s another left to find, based on the stories. I mean, how many adventurers, sure not as lucky or handsome as we three I know, but how many adventurers have dared Courles Manor? Sure not a lot of them come back, but enough do, with enough gold to make me think it’s tapped. So I think we should go right, and travel north to finally be the ones to reopen the passage to the lost valley and retrieve the gems of the lamia queen. Everyone else who ended up there fell prey to her cunning and got lured there, but we know the truth, we can take her.”

A hundred years ago, a witch had cast a terrible spell that allowed a banished and cursed woman back from the land of the others, and of ferries. Her return destroyed her homeland, and killed all who lived there, turning their bodies to plant spores that re-seeded the open lands and created a massive forest where once there had been open lands. It hemmed in other kingdoms, and swallowed all but the most ancient and well traveled roads, for rue roads, with true names, could not be enchanted by the other side, or by any magic, and allowed the darker things in the old forests to grow stronger.

Rumor said that the Deep Forest, or the New Forest thought it was a hundred years and more old now, was the nexus of this cursed woman and the fiendish witch’s power, and that the plants were alive, and all safe passage was an illusion. But to reach the haunts of old, the legendary places of treasure, and lost power and fortune, would be heroes, or in Harold and company’s case, treasure hunters, had to at least skirt the center. The Temple of the Spider Priestess, long thought to hold all manner of magical arms and armor, the aforementioned Manor house, and even the lost entrance to the underlands where night and day were determined by the magma that flowed through the ceiling were all lost save for passages through the Deep Forest.

“I’m tired of arguing with you Harold, the last man to know where the opening was got executed for being a servant of dark magic and for wanting to lure more people into some cave in the ground, and some monster that lived there.” Pitt crossed his arms, and Harold shook his head. It was the same old argument from Pitt, who really wanted himself a magical sword/

“I’m with Harold on this one, it’s like I said back at the inn, girls like jewels, and I like girls, so,” Lance put his hands on his hips,” the vote stands, right, and forward to snake ladies, giant jewels, and secret underground worlds.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, fine,” Pitt fell in behind the other two, “I’ll bring up the rear, just don’t get us lost in here Harold, I don’t want a sticker bush to shove a thorn through my skull if we get too lost.”

The three young men marched on