A gay story: Fingering the Idol
*Normally I get the idea for one of my stories from a show, a movie, a book, or a game. The Bottom Tier series was influenced by ‘The Windup Girl’, Alone at the End of the World was influenced by ‘The Walking Dead’. Slave Boy=Skyrim, Eyes Like Winona=Twist, etc.
This is the first time however, that I got a story idea from a session of D&D. This is a one-shot story, there will be no other chapters to it. I got the idea when a friend of mine was trying to appraise an item with an NPC and my friend rolled a one. My DM told him that he pricked his finger, and I made a joke about the NPC seducing him.
This is a story that will be hilarious and full of hidden jokes, for about half a dozen people. But I hope that any other D&D players will be able to see the outline of our session through this, and get a laugh or two out of it.
All characters are 18+*
*
It was getting more and more dangerous to sail the archipelago.
The Acid Rain pirates had attacked and burned four more ships to the waterline. There were rumors of entire elven villages being destroyed, with nearly half of the population dead and the other half missing. The king’s war to the south was getting bloodier every month. Deserters fled north, west, further south.
Captain was getting more and more worried. Which might have been why he let THOSE three on board.
I was up in the rigging when he let them on board. I was supposed to be binding up the mainsail, but I stopped to watch. Barrett mostly hired humans, but none of these three looked human.
I dropped down a little, getting lower. I pretended to be double-checking the knotted rope rigging, and I spied on them.
First there was this bossy little half-elf. Tiny thing. She was in this holy robe with a sigul of one-or-another god on her chest. She had a crossbow slung over her back. She seemed to be doing most of the talking.
Then there was this tall skinny gruesome thing. I couldn’t tell much about it at all. Couldn’t tell what race it was, couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. It had a long braid slung over the right shoulder, but the chest was flat as a wall. Not to mention, it was wearing a soft black face scarf that covered everything but scowly eyes. It towered over the other two, and it was bristling with weapons.
Barrett was intimidated by those two, I could tell.
The third fellow was the most interesting one. Barrett glanced up at me, so I scurried like a monkey to the upper reaches of the ship, but not before I got a good look at the other one.
He was purple. Pale purple. His face looked scaly. I had never seen a purple man before. He wore an open-throated shirt that he hadn’t bothered to lace up. A handful of colorful scarves adorned his clothes. Round his waist, round his head, round his neck. He chose them more for the color than anything. Bright silk and jingly charms.
The effect was tawdry, and somewhat charming.
I already made up my mind to get a closer look at the purple man. It would be up to him to decide just how close.
—
Barrett was a hard but fair man. Down in mess, he told the ten of us that the new three were mercenaries. They wanted passage in exchange for protection.
I gobbled my hardtack and salt pork while wondering idly if the purple man was warm like a man, or cold like a lizard.
“The half-elf is Ana, the purple one is Lex…” Barrett made a grimace. “And the tall one calls herself Rat. If I find any of you trying to get into the half-elf’s quarters, you’ll be whipped. If any of you try to sneak into Rat’s quarters, I think she’ll kill you before I get the chance. I just want to get to Genofrey in one piece, so try to leave those three alone.”
I grinned. He said nothing at all about trying to sneak into Lex’s quarters.
“Honestly, James?” I jumped a little. Francis was giving me side-eye. “Fella seemed a little more interested in cozying up to that liddle elf-mutt. You may have a cock, but you’re still the biggest whore I’ve ever seen.”
I scowled. “Yeah? And what would you know about it old-timer? You know that there are folks who like oysters AND snails.” A man could dream.
He chuckled. “You ever try to tug on my snail and I’ll dunk you in the ocean.” The burly old sailor got up and went back to the deck.
I went back to wondering if the purple fella had scales all over.
—
By the time I got on deck, we were sailing full-tilt away from the Isle of Pearls. I joined three other lunkheads at the quarterdeck in repairing the mainsail. A run-in with pirates had left it full of arrow-holes. Thankfully, we had been faster. But we wouldn’t be for long unless we sewed up all the holes.
I sat on a barrel, pushing a steel needle as long as my hand through the tough canvas.
That half-elf lady was reading a book that looked about as big and heavy as a paving stone. Bernard kept giving her these hungry looks. I rolled my eyes. Fucking amateur. He was probably gonna get a bolt through him if he tried to chase that pussy.
Meanwhile, Lex appeared to be doing… nothing. Man had his legs crossed and was staring glass-eyed at the setting sun. Hadn’t moved in almost half an hour. Was he even blinking? That just made me curious.
I grinned when I saw Francis deep in conversation with that gawky titless wonder. Talk about oysters and snails. This bitch probably had both.
I glared at the setting sun. Two more hours before eight bells, when my shift was over. I at least got something interesting to watch.
Francis and Rat got up. She opened up her pack and got some pieces of cloth to wrap around those big fancy knives stuck in the sides of her belt. Each one was curved and about a foot long. Francis picked up a quarterstaff.
They started sparring. First slow, just going through the motions, then faster. Soon her padded knives and his staff were clacking against each other in a blur. She had big purple welts on her arms and Francis looked awful smug.
I rolled my eyes. The big idiot would have a much harder time fighting her if she used that wicked-looking trident instead of those little knives.
Lex was standing up, and hey-hey, if he wasn’t walking this way.
A few of the scales on his face were iridescent. The shinier scales formed natural patterns on his face, lines up from the bridge of his nose, zig-zagging ‘cross his high brow. He also had lines of these scales on his cheekbones and a triangle of them on his chin. They glimmered in the sunlight. It was like jewelry.
The sun was glimmering off of his face-scales and the charms on his silk scarves. His thick black hair was pulled into a tight knot at the back of his head and he had big pointy ears like an elf. Musta had a dozen rings in each. Man was like a magpie.
He hesitated near the mast, and I laughed out loud when I realized what he was doing. Mast had cracked a month ago. Rather than spend money on getting an expensive new one built at a shipyard, Barrett had paid a smith to put bands of steel around it. The bands were shiny because we wiped them with potion to keep them from rusting away.
The purple elf-man was looking at his reflection in the steel hoops.