YArpg- "I need no payment for my deeds." B
From Create Your Own Story
"I need no payment for my deeds," you generously respond. You might have just gone and bought a sex slave, but you're not a complete bastard yet.
"How kind! How noble!" the archer cries. "We shall be on our way, then." You bid them farewell and watch their caravan disappear around the bend.
Time to finish your journey.
---
It's afternoon by the time you see the gateway to the city. A few-metre-long sign arches over the thick iron gates. It reads "FELLFEAT" - ah, so that's what it was called again. The entrance attempts to look presentable, with climbing roses weaving around the arch, but the flowers are dying and the metal is rusted. You only come here on occasion, but you think that it pretty much sums up Fellfeat.
Two guards stand on either side of the gates in dark blue uniform. One appears to be sleep-standing. The other, apparently quite absent-minded, grunts a greeting in your direction and pulls the gates open. Your naked slave doesn't appear to concern them. The two of you pass through.
The buildings of Fallfeat were once grand and imposing, but they have not aged gracefully. The brick walls are dirty and some of the smaller houses are falling apart. There's even a three-storey building where the top floor is mostly rubble.
Nobody will live near the walls if they don't have to, so these outer areas are sparsely populated. Still, those on the street give Cyesh strange glances. With her unable to do anything other than walk slowly and glare, you're practically parading her around town. It's only a matter of time before a non-apathist sees you two and decides to report you.
Fortunately, the Dwarf's Beard is nearby. You quickly reach the externally featureless inn and step inside.
The lighting here is low. As it's still daytime, the bar is nowhere near its peak, but there are a few customers, all of which being just as shady as you. Two men sit around a table playing cards. Their clothing is so concealing that you can't even determine their race. A halfling cleans a blood-stained knife. There's even an orc in the corner with her own sex slave, just like you.
The bartender is a wiry, creepy half-elf named Tern. You've met once. You approach the bar, getting his attention. If he's in any way put off by Cyesh, he doesn't show it.
"How can I be of your assistance?" he says in an uninviting tone.
Do you say:
