The Messengers

Dig Dig Dig

Work the Mine

Build Build Build

Protect our Home

Hunt Hunt Hunt

Provide our food

Breed Breed Breed

Make new eggs

Such verses are often heard echoing throughout the tunnels and caverns of the Dragon’s Heir kobold tribe. Once a somewhat shy and xenophobic race of little creatures, these kobolds, in recent times, have opened up their borders for an exchange of various ideas, goods, and services.

The self-proclaimed queen of the kobolds, Tikana the Red, lounges upon her throne, taking in audiences from lands beyond to listen to their petitions for further relations with the miniature dragons. Her resplendent posture, the hoard of gold she lays upon, and her casual nudity give her an almost deific aspect. Often, she notices the way that the lesser beings admire her and her treasures, and serves to increase her importance, if only for herself.

The bearded newcomers with their stocky bodies and their stock-laden stone chest appeared every bit the stone-serious dignitaries that any kingdom would enjoy. However, Tikana knows from the way they eye her treasure that they seek not the glittering gold or her own high-born magnificence. Nevertheless, she let them speak their minds. It’s always more fun when they try to be polite and proper.

“Oh, great and magnificent Tikana, Queen of Kobolds, Heir to the Great Wyrm. I am Trosh, son of Drosh. Ambassador of the High Dwarven Council of the Republic of  Low Targrin. Long have our nations been near, but never had we acknowledge each other as equals. Today, I seek to bring our people together in peace and in prosperity.”

“Is that so?” Tikana says, sitting up from her lounging position. She crosses one leg over the other, letting some of the coins of her pile glitter down in an avalanche of decadence. The firelight that illuminates the chamber bounces off of the shifting currency and reflects off of the crimson patches that denote her draconic heritage. “And what gifts do you bring me? Surely, you do not wish to come here empty-handed.”

Trosh’s eyes light up at the resplendent sight. The young dwarf isn’t entirely immune to the charms she has. Since he admires what she displays more than his fellows, she considers him to be the perfect representative for her own ends.

He is a young one, that is for sure. His peers among the dwarven guard all have grizzled, frown-wrinkled faces and long, braided beards adorned with metal bands wrought in intricate designs. He is not so different, but just different enough for an outsider to notice. His reddish hair is tight with compacted curls, and his beard is equally as curly. 

Tikana has often wondered what it was like to have hair. What it must be like to have a warming, soft material growing out of one’s body. It would be much more manageable than the impressive, if impractical, crown of horns upon her head. They are always growing into each other and making the scales between so impossible to clean. Her head itches just as she thinks about it.

Trosh, meanwhile, wonders what it is like to be a monarch of such a small race. But, as she stares at him, he cannot help but to stroke his tightly-curled beard. He often felt the eyes of his fellow dwarves upon him for his abnormally curly hair, so the eye of a foreign royal shouldn’t be different, but it still is.

“Queen Tikana, your people are great, and the scales on your body make you strong, but there are none stronger than those who wear the armor provided by the fire of our forges. We offer you means to protect yourself from strong and terrible creatures, which should allow you to expand your lands to territories never before considered.”

“So lovely, but that’s a lot just for a diplomatic relationship. Surely, you must want something else? Tikana asks, resting her chin upon the knuckles of one hand. In the other, she scoops up a fist full of gold, letting each coin and trinket fall one-by-one to join their brothers and sisters into the glimmering pile. “Why is it you’re really here?”

“You are wise, Your Majesty,” Trosh says, placing a hand upon his plated armor, “For our alliance, we humbly ask that our scholars be taught by your lead arcanist.”

The rest of the coins fall from Tikana’s grasp, not as a gentle cascade, but a downpour.. “And what do you think you will gain from speaking to my court wizard? Have you, perhaps, heard things about her?.” Truthfully,t so many stories have been told of Tik Tik. Many of them were embellished fan fiction of her exploits. Some, of course, were real, but many more, she felt, Tik Tik wouldn’t mind being real. Of course, fame and infamy mean nothing if someone is actually coming to find what doesn’t actually exist. She knows to be careful and see if she still has the upper hand in this bargain.

“Oh, Tikana, the tales that have spread around the forges are lurid and many, but from what I know, this is the tale:

“A lowly trapmaker, punished for a mistake she had not made, Tik Tik was sentenced to work within the mines. An accident occurred, and she discovered a book of great and terrible power. By your leave, she went out into the Wildlands above, where she met many new beings, studying from them how they mate and love.

“Her journeys made her many new friends, but also enemies, for she caught the eye of the fearsome and powerful Estrasa. Through circumstances and happenstance, Tik Tik made allies with the right people to end Estrasa’s reign. Still, the book she had discovered was destroyed by Tik Tik’s own hand, so that its power would not fall into the wrong hands.

“Angered by the destruction of the book, a terrible demon took possession of her, forcing Tik Tik to journey to the city of Anteronia, and from there, her actions sparked a revolution, felling long-standing aristocracy and bringing inner peace to the conflicted people.”

The queen of the kobolds nodded upon hearing all of this and waves her hand. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that all before. Well, it seems like she is she whom you seek, but I’m afraid that she isn’t here right now.”

“But… where is she, then?” the dwarf says, taking a step forward and clenching his fist. Used to the more direct diplomatic relations of the dwarven council, he forgot how much other races prefer a more delicate approach.

Tikana tilts her head back, stroking her chin plaintively. She pretends she did not see that slight, but in fact, is quite intrigued by his bold demeanor. “Well, let’s see… if I were right, she’s at the Temple of Love, outside of Bergburg…”

The temple of Love is the home of the Order of Love. It is the faith that teaches the tenants for the Knights of Love. It is a large, yet welcoming, structure of pure white stone and aesthetically pleasing figures sculpted into the sides, each of them seeking to give warm embraces to those that enter.

All who seek a calming session with the priests and healers of the faith are welcomed. The touch of a practitioner of these rites is said to calm, excite, heal, and relax in ways no other therapy has been able to accomplish. So, naturally, their teachings would be quite interesting to those who seek to know more of sexual magic, mainly, a little pink kobold wizard, trapmaker, and scribe.

Tik Tik sits cross-legged upon the tile warmed by the bright and shining sun. Her bare scales tingle with the caress of the celestial body’s life-giving rays. Of course, that is how her friend, the knight of love named Tybalt, described the thing. To her and other denizens of the dark, the sun was a screaming ball of pain for the eyes, one that did not abate, even with her lids tightly shut. But, to accept and embrace even the most horrific of things was one of Tik Tik’s goals. After all, if she is to study all the ways different sapients have sex, she needs to enjoy things the people of her underworld find traditionally repulsive.

Give Tybalt, for example. Most elves that Tik Tik had heard about were dark with red eyes and domineering attitudes. Tybalt, however, is gently bronzed with smooth skin rippling with muscles. His tall frame towers over her when they stand. He has no scales, but skin, and long, green wavy hair that tickles to the touch when she runs it through her fingers. His lips and his tongue are like pillows instead of the coarse abrasive rubbings of a kobold’s.

“You need to focus,” comes the voice of the paladin. He sits across from her, undressed as she is, but still wearing the loincloth over the most sanctified part of his body. His holy sword is never used, except to vanquish evil, something that Tik Tik often lamented, until the time he had to use it on her to exorcize a demon from her form. Then, she realized just how dangerous his weapon could be.

“Tik Tik, try focusing!” The kobold whines. “But think too much! Learn so much. Been long time since play.”

Tybalt chuckles, emitting a sound that makes the kobold quiver. “Love isn’t all about play, Tik Tik. If you wish to learn our ways of magic, you must focus on deeper feelings. Connections need to go farther than the body. They need to reach into the soul. Then, you can penetrate the boundaries of carnal desires and spiritual togetherness.”

Tik Tik snickers.

“I did not mean to make that an innuendo,” Tybalt responds, a frown upon his voice.

“But it works!” Tik Tik chirps.”

The door to the rooftop meditation floor opens, and Tik Tik’s eyes flutter to see who it is that has arrived.

The High Priestess of the Order stands before them both, her matronly body draped with a dress that Tik Tik theorized would not be difficult at all to remove. It was quite strange, indeed, to think of an elf as chubby, but there she is, plump with a motherly body.

Despite being only half the elf that the High Priestess is, Tybalt still is thinner than her, though his human side shines through in how much more powerful his toned shape is in comparison to her and her lithe fellows. He bows before the High Priestess, and Tik Tik admires the similar colorations the two have. She had asked him about his relation to her. He assured Tik Tik that they were not mother and child in the biological sense, though that her flesh and blood conceived him.

“High Priestess,” Tybalt says, bowing before her. “What need have you for me?”

The High Priestess steps forward, wrapping her arms around the paladin, squeezing him up against her soft form. “Tybalt, I am so happy to see you teaching again. I had thought you lost after your return from Anteronia.”

“It has taken some time, yes,” Tybalt says. “But this isn’t truly preaching of the tenants to a potential follower.” He motions to the kobold. “I was merely showing her the basics of our magic.”

“Well, there certainly isn’t anything basic about it,” the High Priestess says, walking over towards the kobold and kneeling down before her. She places her hand upon Tik Tik’s head, gently petting the wizard between the horns. “I come here to see you, actually.”

“M… me?” Tik Tik squeaks.

The High Priestess nods. “Indeed. I have had a vision, and there is news that I must pass onto you. That is if you are willing to accept a message from the divine.”

Tik Tik places her hand upon the High Priestess’s wrist, urging her away. She shifted her speech to her natural tongue. While working on the common language is crucial to her. When things get serious, Tik Tik uses the words she is much more familiar with. “I will listen to the message, oh High Priestess, but I will not become the puppet of a divine being.”

The elf sighs, bringing her free hand underneath the kobold’s chin. “My child,” she responds in the dragon’s tongue, “we are all puppets of the divine.”

Many members of races and cultures who value the intimacy of sex put wealth and effort into the beautification of the bedroom.To Tik Tik, the place where one sleeps can be quite an annoyance to clean from the inevitable fluids that spill during tense hours of passion.

It appears that the High Priestess follows the general trend of beautification. However, it seems she added to the use of her sleep room and sex room with that of an altar. Candles line along the room, giving off a much more soothing light than the sun, allowing Tik Tik to not be blinded while also allowing the shadows the flickering flames to dance off of the body of the graceful elf. They dance over the headboard, which is etched with the hearts that make up the symbol of the order.  What floor there is feels soft and squishy underneath Tik Tik’s feet. She curls her toes to take in the tickling fibers of the carpet, all the while admiring the centerpiece.

The massive bed takes up most of the chamber with a rounded mattress, its craftsmanship obviously masterful to make such a mathematically appeasing curvature. And thinking of appealing curves, the High Priestess herself sashays her way onto the bed, crawling up upon it. Despite being barefoot throughout the temple, her soles are quite clean, a testament to the magic she possesses, or the dedication to the cleanliness of the clergy. Her robes draw tight to her knees, outlining her considerable rump. She makes Tik Tik appreciate what mammals find appealing.

The show only lasts for a little bit. The elf sits upon her knees, facing the kobold and patting the space in front of her. “Come, let us commune, for I have a message for you.”

“High Priestess, it is an honor,” The kobold says, speaking in her most polite draconic language.

The High Priestess smiles to her, those soft lips curled into genuine joy and affection. “There is no need to be so formal here. This is a place for love.”

“Is not respect for authority a form of love?” Tik Tik inquired, the prospect of practicing philosophy with such a beautiful woman of power not at all unappealing to the little thinker.

The High Priestess giggles, fingers playing at a golden heart clipped around her robes. “Perhaps it is, but so is being familiar. Tik Tik, you may call me Tymara when we are alone. The gods will understand, and they shall smile upon us. After all, there shall be nothing between the two of us when we make our communion.”

Upon saying that, Tymara clicks a latch upon that symbol, and the heart opens up, spilling the white cloth down over her body. Tik Tik is now granted the most intimate view of the High Priestess, her bountiful, motherly breasts, her flawless, smooth skin, the pink, erected nipples, her gently pudgy belly, and her thick thighs.

Tik Tik eagerly climbs up onto the Priestess’s lap, wrapping her arms around the woman’s body, her fingers squeezing into soft, squishy flesh. Tymara responds by embracing the kobold, hand upon her head and another upon her back. Their legs wrap around her, keeping them in close, and her larger frame warms the little dragon. The gesture buries Tik Tik’s face into the bosom, shadowing her in warmth and love, where she can hear the beating of the matriarch’s heart.

Through gentle strokes, Tymara let Tik Tik know that she was well taken care of. Fingers explore every crevice and every scale of Tik Tik’s body. These digits are then followed by the gentle, yet exhaustive, kisses. At some point in this treatment, Tik Tik is laid upon the bed. This allows the woman to linger over her, the elf’s weight keeping the dragon down while lips and fingers attend to different aspects of the tiny body.

Tik Tik sighs, enjoying the feeling of nipples rubbing up and down along the sensitive scales of her underbelly. Still, she lays back and lets the High Priestess take care of her. Something in the back of her mind tells her that this was all intended for her and that she shouldn’t interrupt Tymara’s ministrations with her own clumsy attempts. Could she ever please such a magnificent creature, one so clearly given this position by the higher powers?

Tik Tik did not believe entirely in those higher beings. Not that she didn’t think they existed. It is more that they are not any different than any other creature of power. Tikana is like a god to her people, and Estrasa was certainly more godlike than her. Even Zelbia held much sway over beings of the physical world, yet could still be frustrated and defeated with the right techniques. Honestly, there seems to be no limit that a mortal can achieve, so the gods are just powerful beings who reached high levels of power.

That is, of course, what she believed, right up until she experienced the vision.

Tik Tik had never before considered the designs of the divine. She had, of course, seen beings that claimed to be gods, and she had, of course, rejected their deific nature. After all, any sufficiently powerful mage can make themselves appear to be godly. It’s more than likely that any casters who claim to receive their power from the divine would, in fact, derive their power from some shared font of natural magics. While the kobold sits in the embrace of the elven High Priestess, the feeling in her form disappears as her mind’s eye opens up. She cannot help but think that there is something otherworldly, indeed, about the power now visiting her.

She’s no longer in Tymara’s embrace. Or rather, she no longer feels like she is there, while still being there. All of her senses betray her. She sees the elf. She hears her voice. She smells the perfumes and oils, and she touches the flesh, but, Tik Tik is somewhere else entirely. A grand architecture rises up before her, making a mockery of the once-impressive temple where Tik Tik thought she was. The pillars that rise up and connect nothing are of a polished material Tik Tik has never seen before. Standing upon each of these uncountable pillars are shaded forms, facing each other in the cusp of confrontation.

All around her, Tik Tik knows there are those watching her, but what are these forces? She looks to the grand coliseum around her, only for her mind to force her to look away. She whimpers, falling to her knees and clutching her head, her whole form shaking with an uncontrollable, unknown fear.

And just as she felt the thin strings of her mind snap with a shrieking headache that would end her consciousness, a warmth passes over her, granting her a new kind of peace. She once again explores the sweet embrace of the elven high priestess and tastes her lips upon the kobold’s mouth. She is safe, no matter how daunting this place seems to be.

But what IS this place?

“Be not afraid, Tik Tik, Daughter of the Dragon’s Heir,”

The voice comes from all around, and yet just in front of her. It’s not Tymara’s. It’s not Tybalt’s nor Eshere’s or Baker’s or Estrasa’s. It’s familiar enough to resonate with her. It fills her with both that forewarned fear and comfort she had never felt before.

“What… are you?” Those are the only words that Tik Tik can muster, feeling the comfort punctuated with a pressure to keep herself down, to keep her head bowed low.

A bright light shone, yet it did not burn her eyes. It was nothing like that forsaken sun, and yet, she finally understands the love that the upperworlders have of it. She stands atop one of those pillars. She stumbles back from her change in location. 

Before her is the form of the one speaking to her. Face upon face upon face linger in the air. Masks of so many different facades, and yet none with emotion. They circle around both her and a mass of wings, covering up a core of this strange and elusive being. But though she hears the words in her head, she knows it to be coming from this feathered thing.

“I am Hanioc, the messenger of the Divine, and I come to tell you of your future.”

Tik Tik takes a step closer towards this feathered form, reaching her hand out with a tentative tremble. But, from the mass of wings, a blue-scaled hand shot out, grabbing her by the wrist.

The wings unfurl, and, floating before her is the form of a kobold. Though its face is obscured by the faceless mask it wears, she can tell that it stares deep into her soul. Upon seeing its form, Tik Tik’s core thrummed with passion. Never had she witnessed a being so perfect, a kobold so desirable. Even that most unbelievable of thoughts crossed her mind--that she wanted to lay this creature’s children—came to her as a distinct possibility.

Its form is well-sculpted, like one of the statues outside of the temple. It is a work of art. Still, it is one that had the curves and the muscles of the ideals of both masculine and feminine. It is the perfect representation of kobold beauty, lost to the mammals who care less about crests and horns and more about curves and breasts.

Hanioc pulls Tik Tik in. It offers her an embrace, much like Tymara, who still lies with her on the bed in the temple. “There is much for you to know, Tik Tik, and little I can give you at the moment. Listen well, for you are granted a quest from the realm of the Divine.”

“A… quest?” Tik Tik asks dreamily, her hand resting upon the rugged chest of this avatar of perfection.

“Indeed,” the messenger said, spreading one of its many wings and gesturing beyond to the other columns. Now that she is standing there, she can see them—feel them, the ones that are to assemble.

“Who… are they?”

“You know a few already,” Hanioc replies. “They are chosen by the gods themselves, but not for the same purpose as you. Tik Tik, have you not seen the state of the world?” Hanioc rests the forehead of its mask against her forehead. “The mortals have come to learn about Eroarcana from a book. Much like you, others have grown curious and desirous. Your tales have spread far from the borders of Anteronia and have inspired others to follow in your wake.”

“So, are you… blaming me?” She asks, nuzzling against its chest once more, just scratching those rough and beautiful scales.

“There is no one to blame,” Hanioc says. “Mortals are curious. They seek to learn things they cannot control, but the gods have decided for you to seek these individuals out and to tell them that they are to participate.”

“Participate in what?” Tik Tik asks, this time pulling herself away to try and gaze at the creature’s eyes.

“They are to become champions, Tik Tik: Champions for the Tournament of Pleasure!”

“Tournament of Pleasure?” Tik Tik repeats the words from the mysterious messenger. “What… what is that?”

The winged creature flies off away from the kobold now, allowing her to remain alone in this overwhelming otherworld.

Hanioc’s words echo out from the different masks all over this field. Each of them speaks a slightly altered version of events and rules far too complex for the mortal mind to remember, but Tik Tik recognizes it all and writes it down. Where she got the book to do so, she does not remember.  It is hers, and the words remained within her.

“The world of mortals has grown,” Hanioc begins. “No longer are you the mewling babes that you once were. Creation and existence have matured, reaching the age in which it can consent to the higher order of knowledge and of the physical and the spiritual.”

As Hanioc’s form disappears into the quintessence, the kobold is assailed with visions of all sorts and places!

There is her homeland of the Dragon’s Heir Tribe. Tikana lounges on her stacks of gold, speaking to a dwarf with tight curly hair.

“Champions have been chosen by the gods as Representatives to compete with one another.”

Tybalt stands on top of the roof of the temple, staring off across the woods of the wildlands.

“Each of them is given this sacred duty to discover more about themselves.”

A brunette woman with a ponytail tills the fields. She wipes the sweat from her brow, offering a prayer to some little known deity.

“They may be broken, unsure of their own place.”

An elf lays face down in the rain. She has no arms and no legs, but she raises herself up, eyes burning with energy and fury.

“Some wish to find out the secrets the gods are willing to open to them.”

A goblin pours over piles of books while another, identical goblin, mixes some chemicals, while another furiously transcribes some information onto parchment.

“And some are just wanting to test their limits.”

A beautiful and strong woman, the top half-human, the bottom horse, gallops to the top of a mountain, raising her hands and rearing her legs in triumph.

“And others just thrill in the heat of battle.”

A ferocious orcish woman cuts down enemy after enemy, leaving herself glistening with the blood of her foes and letting out a triumphant roar.

“Some have a duty to fulfill…”

A half man-half snake slithers through a palace, pressing two sets of hands together and bowing his head in prayer.

“And others are indentured to others’ wills.

A young man with purple marks over his body drapes himself in robes as he sits against a dungeon wall, his ankle chained to stone.

“Some seek to find out who they are.”

Two women, looking precisely similar in Tik Tik’s eyes, stand back-to-back, performing various martial training exercises..

“Others know exactly who they are and revel in that.”

A giant, imposing tiger man steps through a dark alley, running his claws along the wall as someone frantically runs away from him, calling for help that never comes.

“There are those who were built with a purpose,”

A mechanical marvel beyond even the greatest of constructs burns pink with fire and shining with metal not of this earth. She launches herself through the sky, kicking through a giant monster with ease.

“And those who seek purpose in the stories of others.”

A dark elf sits on a throne, watching an orgy happening before her. Her garments between her legs bulge with her want, but she holds back for now.

“There are those whose destinies are not yet written for them.”

A little creature with the face of a whimpering pup lives on the street and begging for coin.

“And those who have come back to fulfill their destiny.”

A sarcophagus in a resplendent tomb glows with unholy power. It slides open, and a gray, bandaged hand reaches out.

“They shall meet on the field of contest, each eliminated if they defeat the other through pain or through pleasure, and the winner shall achieve their dreams and the blessings of the gods.

Tik Tik stumbles to her feet, rubbing her head. It swims with all of this information given to her, but one thing rings true for her. “So…” she says to the ordered infinitude around her. “All these people… they’re going to fuck fight?”

There is a silence from the masks, turning in their places to glance at each other. This is followed by a quick murmur in a language no mortal ears could ever comprehend.

“No, this is a divinely mandated competition, the likes of which eternity has not-”

“But two people go in, and they punch each other, then they grab and finger and lick and dick, right?” Tik Tik says, “and one way to win is to…” she makes a ring with one hand and inserts two fingers into the other, “Right?”

“If that’s… what your limited mortal understanding could come up with, then yes sure.”

Tik Tik claps her hands together, bouncing on her toes. “So, it is a fuck fight! And all those people I saw… they’re going to be fuck fighting!?”

“Could you please stop calling this a fuck fight? It’s quite sacrilegious and-”

Tik Tik claps her hands over her cheeks, squeezing them. Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Wait, wait, wait! Will… Will I get to meet them all!?”

“Well, I was going to send you off as our messenger and-”

She squeals, running around in circles on her existential column. “Yeeeee!”

To hear an angel sigh in frustration should make most beings shudder, and yet Tik Tik is too busy planning her trip in her head. After all, she is no fighter. Still, she’ll be able to have front row seats to the most significant sexual competition ever!

She awakens, still in Tymara’s arms. The elven High Priestess asks her what she saw, but the kobold leaps out of her grip, running off naked down the halls. There is much to prepare and no time to talk or get dressed!