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Chapter Text

>Quest Start: PokeDom Mystery Dungeon

On its descent through the sky, the late afternoon sun filters in through the dark blue curtains of your west window. It casts the room in a pale blue glow. Hunger nags at your stomach, demanding that you finally drag yourself out of bed and find something to eat. But your thoughts turn to the snow piling up in your driveway, and the warm blanket drawn around your shoulders pulls itself tighter, willing you to stay. Work has been slow, and there’s nowhere to be today.

Your Voltorb-themed alarm clock goes off again. With one hand you reach out and try to hit the snooze again, only to find your hand landing in water. Pouring water. Confused, you sit up and see a glowing golden ring in front of your alarm clock. On the other side is water, pouring out into your room. A Barboach slides out and flops onto the floor, flailing around in a fright. The ring moves and changes in angle, launching the ice cold water into your face and causing you to splutter.

Just like that you're sitting up in a rapidly soaking bed. The ring shrinks down and the water stops. You notice only a purple creature floating in the middle of your room when the ring flies back into its hand. “Rise and shine, sleepy head!”

You blink the water out of your eyes and wipe it away from your face, wondering if you’re still dreaming.

“A- it’s- you’re a P-Pokemon?” you wonder aloud, unable to pinpoint the species before you. It has a pair of piercing eyes. Green surrounded by a ring of gold much like those that hang from the black horns on either side of its head, and around its body where your mind imagines a waist would be. “What- what are y-you? W-wait, d-did you just t-talk? A t-talking Pokem-  mon?” You stutter through chattering teeth, trying in vain to wrap the blanket soaked in ice water around yourself.

“That’s right, I’m talking! Right here with my mouth!” The creature’s voice is unmistakably male, and deeper than you’d think for his size. The legless body sways back, reclining as if on an invisible sofa. Both thumbs on the Pokemon’s mitten-like hands point at the white teeth he’s unveiling in a wild grin. “You can call me Hoopa, the Thief King.” When you stare dumbfounded, the creature’s grin turns into a smug leer through half-lidded eyes. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Worried about those portals, you pull away from the sticky, wet blanket and back up on the bed. You’re not sure what he wants, but- “M-Murdoch sir, it’s M- m- b- I don’t know if you kn-now this, b-but teleporting persons without their previousconsentisv-veryrude,” you run out of breath as he draws closer throughout your pleading, leaning over your bare, shaking chest.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’ll make sure to ask next time,” Hoopa holds his hands to his cheeks in mock upset. You take your eyes off of him for just a second to pinch your arm, and suddenly a wide golden hoop comes down over your shoulders. It tightens, constricting until you can’t move your arms pinned against your body.

Keeping a firm grip on the loop, Hoopa tugs you forward as you look up, face so close that you can smell his breath, fresh and odorless. “I just remembered! I don’t have to do what you say, since you’re a weak little human. Besides,” he drawls out the word, leaning up to whisper into your ear, “When was the last time you ever said no?”

Held in a tight grip by the ring, you are levitated up off of your bed and into the air. The round, hard surface of the hoop hurts a little. Hoopa’s eyes drink in your body, topless with a loose pair of green plaid night pants. “Tell me Murry, what can you do? Besides sleep, I mean! You’ve proven your unmatched talent at that,” he casts a look over his shoulders at your alarm clock. Those green eyes drift back up to yours’ and he sets a fist under his chin. “Think of it like a job interview. And don’t be nervous, my standards are… low.”

“W-well, Hoopa, sir,” you stammer, definitely not liking how easily he manhandles you around. It’s probably best to cooperate. “I do enjoy baking! I-if I do say so myself,” you list, which makes him hum in droll interest.

“If you do say so yourself, you enjoy baking?” he asks, scratching at the edge of one of his horns. “But are you good at baking?”

“Y- I mean- I-I think so.” It seems like you said what he wanted, because he settles in again and waits for you to keep going. Thinking of it like a job interview, you look back at some of the things you’d put on your resume. “I used to do- I mean, I still- still do magic sometimes. J-just stage magic, to astonish and amaze!” You laugh nervously.

“I like what I’m hearing. Keep going,” he encourages.

“And, I know how to m-make the best of things, like w-with people. Y-you know. Making sure everyb-body gets what they want.”

>Skills: Baking, Magic Tricks, Dealmaking

Hoopa cradles your chin in his little hand, staring into your drab eyes with his vibrant orbs. The world seems a little brighter, a little more colorful reflected in them, even the reflection of your own face. “Do you know what I want, Murry?” He leans in closer, closer. His lips an inch from yours'. You can feel a tingling in your skin from such closeness hovering near you. Is he going to do what you think he is?

But no, just when he opens his mouth and you think he’s going for it, Hoopa pulls back. He smiles, watching your astonishment. Part of you wishes you’d had the courage to close that final inch. “Not yet. That’s an impressive resume, Murry! But I know you're more than just an impressive specimen. Or maybe less is a better word." Drifting around until he’s levitating above your shoulder, he cups your cheek. “I know all your weaknesses.”

In the corner of your eye, you see him release another golden loop into the air and reach his hand through. It cups one of your other cheeks through the velvety fabric of your pants. “And I know all of your… weaknesses~ if you catch my meaning. Want me to list them for you?”

There is little you can do but listen as he tells you all the things you already know. "A pushover like you. So easily lost, so clumsy, you never really learned to stand on your own. Did you? Is it any wonder your life has been rudderless, pushed and pulled on the currents of others’ desires? How long has it been since you decided, Murdoch?" his tirade of insults slither into your ear while his hand kneads and squeezes your buttcheek. Despite yourself you can feel a tent growing in your pants, and you aren't the only one who noticed.

"It's a good thing you like it. Oh yeah. You like being collared and held like a dog don't you?" You shake your head. There's no way he can know. He's bluffing. "Aw, no need to be shy Murry. Let me indulge you." Another golden hoop floats down over your head and closes around your neck. Not too tight, not tight enough to cut off your air. Just enough for you to feel it, and remember who's in control. The hand not kneading your ass runs through your hair, petting you gently.

“It’s okay to like it,” that tempting voice oozes down your spine, as his hand traces the back of your neck. “It’s okay to be a little wrong, when it feels right. I don’t have any cute little paws for you to play with, but I can think of so many other things we can get up to.”

“First let’s take a better look at you,” Hoopa floats away to levitate in front of you, hand still stuck through the portal and feeling you up through your nightclothes. More than that you can feel the tingling of a Psychic sifting through your mind. You can feel all your best and worst qualities being laid bare. You can feel him take a hold of how much you’re enjoying the feeling of the collar around your neck, feel him take it in his hands like putty and play with it in the same motions he plays with your tush.

"It really is your lucky day isn't it?" Hoopa covers his mouth and giggles at the sight of your throbbing erection, pre dribbling out and staining the front of your pants. "If I keep going will you blow your top just from that? You really can't keep it together."

A portal opens up behind Hoopa and he floats backwards into it, leaning on it. Behind him you can see green hills and fields, bathed in pleasant sunlight. It feels warm, not like the snowy streets outside, and it’s a godsend on your chilled, naked torso.

"Before you pop your top how about we really get down to business. Why I came to you in the first place? It's part of a game! Every few years, some of us get together and each pick a human to become a Pokemon and lead a Guild in our name!" Wait. Become a Pokemon? You? "Whoever's champion becomes the most successful guild in three years wins! You're honestly a pretty terrible pick. But this year I decided to make a joke pick and see what happens!"

Another portal opens up above your bed, dropping a set of photographs onto it. "To begin with, we need to choose the Pokemon for you to become. Now I've narrowed it down to a couple on the shortlist. I can let you pick if you want, but you'll owe me a favor later~."

Hoopa starts tapping each of the pictures in turn. "Just tell me when to stop if you want to. Eenie meenie minnie mo, catch Landorus by the toe..." The tip of his hand passes between a Wurmple, a Rattata, a Delibird, a Salandit, a Goomy, and a Purrloin.

You begin to sweat. You definitely don’t want to be a Wurmple or a Goomy, how would you get around without any arms or legs at all? Your heart thuds against your chest, looking between the Salandit and Rattata with your eyes. Something about them just calls out to you.

"Indecisive are you?" Hoopa's hand hovers between the two pictures you're drawn to the most. He starts counting down again. "Eenie meenie minnie mo... time's up! And you are it." His hand stops on one of the pictures and he picks it up, taping it to your forehead. A photograph of a Salandit stares you in the face. "Such a slutty lizard toy you're going to be for some lucky guy or girl. You didn't think I was going to send you in without any help did you? I still want us to have a chance to win!"

Another set of photos fall onto the bed, beneath you. "There are a couple of volunteers I thought would be funny, and some Pokemon who owe me a favor. Here’s the short list! Let me tell you a little about them!"

“First is Caesar, a Joltik who fancies the entrepreneurial spirit,” the first photograph levitates in Hoopa’s hand, a tiny yellow speck sitting atop a rummage sale of odds and ends. In the background, you can see a pier and the ocean. A banner made out of webbing hangs above the spider’s stand, written in a script that looks like Pokemon footprints. Hoopa leans in and whispers to you across the back of his hand, “Between you and me? He’s a bit of a wimp. But what do a couple of businessmen need fighting for?” A few interesting details are on the bottom of the photo card, revealing a kink for bondage and... spelunking? Like cave exploring-

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (9, 17)

Oooh. Exploring those caves.

“Next we have Giselle,” the second slides up next to Caesar’s photograph, a demure looking Ekans coiled up on a cobblestone street. In the background, you can see Pokemon treading the walkways, many of them wearing some form of clothing or accessories. And… is that a castle? “A very romantic notion of adventure drew her to volunteer for the competition. She’s inexperienced, but keener and stronger than most.” Hoopa’s mouth curls into an impish grin. “And she could use someone to show her the wild side.” According to the card with her photo on it, she's not very keen on casual sex.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Difficult (3, 17/14)

Plucking another photo telekinetically from the pile on the floor, Hoopa takes it in hand and looks upon it. He lingers for just a little bit too long, before flipping it around to show you. And his smirk looks… held back by something. “You and this little witch have more in common than you might think,” he points out with a cryptic sparkle in his eye. The photograph is of a Litwick, who doesn’t look like he knows he’s being photographed at all. It’s a dark room filled with eerie shapes, lit by floating blue lights that distort the camera’s view. The fetishes listed are more than a little spooky on their own, with a fondness for S&M and 'soul' play.

“Astra, the explorer,” an image of a female Salandit rises before you, lying upon her back on a rock in the sand, unashamed of the way the sun paints her underside in clear view. She’s looking at the camera upsidedown through a half-lidded, but fierce eye. “A little too much for you, maybe?” Hoopa considers, turning the photo and comparing it to you side by side. “Especially what all those pheromones will do to your horny little lizard head,” he draws attention down to the wetness leaking through the peaked tip of your pants. According to the card, she likes it rough and wild.

Hoopa tucks Astra’s peep show teasingly behind the next photograph, of a Noibat sitting on a desk surrounded by fastidiously piled books. He’s waving shyly with one of his wings, feather duster as large as he is resting in his lap, with eyes bright in the camera’s flash. “Meet Victor, an aspiring author. He comes from rare stock, with a natural talent for telepathy,” leaning in Hoopa runs his finger down the side of your face, from temple to jawline. “And a mind as dirty as yours, Murry.” Victor's card informs you that he's into people talking dirty to him.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (15, 2/10)

“Last, but not least,” there’s something in Hoopa’s voice that you haven’t heard yet. It’s tough to place, but there’s a sincerity that breaks through his sly theatrics. Taking up the final photograph from the floor in his hand, he holds it up alongside the others. “This is Gwen.” In it is a Poochyena with thick, shaggy fur, especially in the ruff around her neck. The expression on her face is hard and stoic, staring into the camera with her ears perked up attentively. She is resting on her haunches among tribal huts that remind you of a teepee or a wigwam. “A real warrior spirit, ready to take charge and dominate. She’ll expect your best, no matter what that might be.” It says that her favorite kink is having her body pampered and worshiped.

“So, who do you want to be your Guild’s co-founder?” The line of photographs drifts towards you, floating within reach of one of your bound arms. Your eyes drift past the varied cast, but they always stop and linger on Gwen. Lifting one finger, you rest it on the bottom of her photo.

Hoopa takes her photo and waves it through the air, smiling. "I can't say I'm surprised you're drawn to Gwen. Given what I know about you, pet~. Her paws are very course and rough from all her hard work. I'm sure she'd appreciate a good massage!" His other hand finally stops groping you from behind, and he pulls it from the portal.

Plucking the photo of the male Salandit from your forehead, Hoopa folds the two together between his hands until they are compressed between his palms, then he opens them up and reveals nothing but air. "But enough talk. It's time to become a new you!"

A new ring opens up beneath you, swirling with manifold colors in a dazzling kaleidoscope. Looking at it too long dizzies you and you have to close your eyes. Suddenly, another face is pressed up against yours' while your eyes are closed. Hoopa bites your lip, forcing your mouth open in a gasp, and uses the chance to shove his tongue into your mouth. The golden collar around your neck tugs your face, pressing it into his. Straining against the confines if your pants, your dick surges with heat. The rest of your body feels numb and warm.

Then as soon as he initiated it, he's gone and you're falling! The ring holding your arms to your body, and you in the air, is gone. Falling through the blinding colors, lost as to which way is up and which way you're sailing. You have to fight back the vertigo and the forces violently toying with your stomach.

Your pants are gone, and the wind hitting your exposed, burning dick is just enough stimulation to push you over the edge. You close shut your abused eyes and throw your head back with a groan as you spray your seed into the void.

Thump! 

You land softly on your back, dazed and confused. You can feel cool grass against your back, the warm sun on your belly, your tail wagging slowly back and forth in the afterglow.

Tail?

You sit up. You are in a ditch of tall grass, in a field of rolling green hills. You recognize the place from behind Hoopa when he was lounging in one of his portals.

A growl draws your attention and you look up. A Poochyena is sitting on her haunches in the grass in front of you, next to a blue rucksack. She is glowering at you with eyes sharper than daggers. There are a few spurts of your cum dotting the fur on her chest, consequences of a pale, pink erection, stark against your dark scales. It catches your eye, a single, slick shaft with a broad base that's not quite like a knot. The shamefully overeager thing is already sinking beneath the soft folds of a slit between your legs now that its job is done. A deep, heady smell hits your new nostrils.

"No. Not allowed." Her deep, throaty voice snarls as she looks down at you. "Your mess. Clean it up." 

You slip on the wet morning grass when you try to get to your feet and fall all over yourself. Your tail gets in the way when you try to sit up and you flail until you land on your belly. Gwen watches you with disappointment in her eyes. "We lose."

Finally able to get your feet under you, you run your claws softly through her chest fur to try and scrape out your cum. But you only succeed in smearing it around more.

"Clean it up." She repeats herself, ears flattened against her head. Your heart beats a little faster and you lean in closer, sticking out your tongue. It extends longer than you remember, tapering to a split pair of points. Gwen looks expectantly down at you and rests a paw on your shoulder to urge you forward.

Taking her silence as permission to get to it, you run your tongue up along the rough fur of her chest. The unpleasant texture of her messy fur mixes with the bitter taste of your cum and you flinch, eyes squeezed shut. You use your claws to gather up the messiest tufts of hair and lick them clean.

You open up your eyes and inspect your work. Visible traces of your accident have been cleaned up, but now her hair is gathered into sticky clumps. You smooth it out for her and try to smile. "T-that's better right? Hoopa said, he s-said we w- we would be partners. Right?"

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (9, 9/10)

Gwen huffs. Her hot breath wafts against your face when she sighs. You expected her breath to smell worse, like dog breath. It smells like sweet fruit. Pecha Berries? "Yes. Repay favor." She doesn’t bother to elaborate further. It’s hard to get a read on what she owes with her serious and gruff demeanor. How much is a tell and how much is just her…

Trying to stand on your hind legs, you find that your tail actually makes it easier this time. Gwen gets up too, and turns away. "Follow. Lake. We wash better clean." You keep on her heels, but traveling on two legs is slow going and you keep almost falling forward onto your belly.

You give up on trying to walk upright and flop to the ground. Walking on all fours feels strange and unnatural to you, and makes you feel very short. It is faster at least. Gwen slows down and waits for you to catch up, so that she doesn’t lose you in the tall grass. "S-so what did Hoopa do to get you t-to do th-this? Did he- he didn’t k-kidnap you too, d-did he?"

Once you settle into a stride, you take a better look at her from behind. Thoughts drift back to a younger you at the Pokemon Daycare, watching the Pokemon shamelessly romp, and you wonder if she has the same kind of cookie down there as a Houndour or a Houndoom. Her tail is hanging behind her, covering up the upskirt view you would be seeing otherwise. Its slight sway never gives you a chance to sneak a peek at the goods, maybe she knows you’re looking? She has some old scars on her side. "No. Hoopa save."

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (13, 7/10)

"O-oh." You sense more to the story, with so many details intentionally left out. More than just brusque attitude is holding them back. Too meek to press more, you set your eyes forward and crawl.

The tall grass parts to reveal a lake sparkling in the sunlight and your claws dig into the grassy sand of a small beach. Across the open water you can see tall walls of rock forming a cliff face. The shape of the indentation makes the lake look almost like a massive footprint that filled up with rain in the course of years.

"Why d-did Hoopa, I m-mean- that is, what are we- am I- supposed to do?" you inquire nervously while she wades into the shallow water. Gwen’s firm muscles breaks the small lake waves that roll in around her legs. She lies down in the water to submerge the front of her that you messed up.

"We start guild. We get famous. Come. Wash." Her command pulls at you, and you dip your sharp new toes into the lakewater. It's cold, not like any of the indoor pools you're used to. You lay down flat and try to float on the water and it works. Until a wave comes and washes some water up your nose, causing you to flail and sneeze.

Snorting the water out of your nose, you bring your lower half back underwater and walk along the bottom on your tippy toes to reach where Gwen is waiting. You run your foreclaws through her fur again under the clean lake water and work out the dried bits of baby batter. "So um, y-you said get fam- famous, that’s what we- we have to do? How d-does Hoopa expect us to do that? Are we looking for t-treasure?"

Gwen dips her head under the water, letting it flow over her, then flicks her head back to keep the fur from hanging down in her eyes. You get splashed in the face by some of the spray. "I am bounty hunter. Catch outlaw. Guild do many thing. Sometimes this." The clumps of sticky, matted hair start to loosen up and part in your claws. When you realize you're groping and massaging her chest it causes you to flush a little, unsure if she can see it on your dark lizard face.

"I-I know how to cook. I bake w-well, or, er, p-pretty good I think. I'm n-not so sure about chasing c-c-criminals."

Gwen tilts her head back with her eyes closed to enjoy the light scratching of your claws. "All guild need cook. Keep happy. Maybe not useless. What your name?"

Wishing you could consult a Pokedex, to look up her battle rating and moveset.. and your own, for that matter! The finer workings of your new body are still, well, very new to you. Training to get more familiar with how to live like a Pokemon crosses your mind. "I'm Murdoch,” you finally introduce yourself. “Y-you know, I cou- could learn. H-how to fight. From you, m-maybe, if you w-wanted to teach me?"

She cracks one eye open to look at you. I-is she checking you out? Her eye closes again. You hope she didn't look under the water. You can't get hard again so soon after you already came but you can feel your dick painfully trying. "Scrawny. Need get stronger. Then learn fight."

"I, I know a little bit. About m-moves and type advantages. B-but I don't know what m-moves I know." You dig in deeper with your knuckles and really massage her along her front. This elicits a satisfied rumbling you can feel in her throat.

"Is okay. Hoopa give Guild card.” She stands up, and you reluctantly stop rubbing her chest. Gwen turns away and walks back onto the beach, tail swaying back and forth. You definitely accidentally catch a glimpse under her tail and she definitely does have a cute cookie down there. Gwen winds up and begins to shake off the excess water from her fur in a distinctly canine way, spraying it all over.

Once she dries off, Gwen goes to her bag on the beach and prods it, waiting for you. "Name Gwen. Card here. Touch." She sits down on her haunches again while you doggy paddle your way back to shore.

You climb out of the cold water. The wind hits you, but your inner warmth keeps it from feeling too bad. It's actually a little refreshing. There is a little bit of pink poking out of your crotch again, dribbles of mild slit lubricant drooling from the sides. Gwen sniffs the air and looks down. Her staring at your crotch gets you going even more.

>Murdoch has gained an Exhibitionism fetish

"Too horny,” the gruff Poochyena chastises your shameless display. “Can't let hang. Will get broken." The idea sends panic beating through your chest. She's right, you can't just be getting erections during fights or when you might accidentally fall on it.

"G-gwen? Do you have any, any uh, advice? Ab- about my erm, s-situation."

"Wear cloth," she tells you matter-of-factly. Do the Pokemon here wear clothing? Gwen isn't wearing any. Wearing underwear is definitely better than walking around with your business hanging out.

"S-so do we have any other m-members? Members of the guild? T-two people isn't much." You fumble over your words while you root around in her bag. There are two round, dimpled blue Berries you recognize as Orans and a glass bottle of something. At the bottom you find a small, smooth card. It feels firm like a metal plaque, but bends in your grip like plastic. It has Gwen's name and details on it, and a blank space next to her. There are listings open for other guild members too.

When you first touch the card it glows under your claws and your information begins to write itself out. To your surprise new sections also appear on the card outright declaring your fetishes and Gwen's.

"No others. Me, you. Need recruit."

"I-is this normal?" You show Gwen the new additions to your guild card. You think you see her ears darken with blood flow before she folds them down. There is a growl under hear breath.

"Dirty Hoopa. Play joke on us. How we recruit now?"

A look around at the area and you don't see any signs of civilization. You two are on the edge of hilly grasslands and some rocky canyons. "Do we ha- or, do you, w-we have a home?"

Gwen picks up the item bag, which dangles from around her neck by a cloth loop. Instead of answering immediately, she takes the lead and begins plodding towards one of the canyon walls. There is a hewn trail, a walking path leading up to the top, and she takes you there. You get back down on all fours for fear of falling from up high, once the ground below begins to sink away from you.

At the top of the path she shows you what extends. A vast and very barren badland marked with cratered canyons that look like they were made by massive footprints, just like the one the lake below is. Inside each footprint is much more fertile with lakes, ponds and grass. "Village not far. I live. We go."

You clam up a little bit thinking about the big paws that must have made these prints. Actually, it looks more like big claws. "Do we have to recruit more, l-like, r-right away? Maybe we c-can uh, a-advertise it. K-kind of being open to stuff?"

Gwen looks back over her shoulder. Her tail is swaying behind her, and she doesn't seem worried about giving you a view anymore. "Just two, can get famous. But we need do something big." The show under her tail might be what gets most people. For you it's the pink pads kicking up behind her as she goes that draw your attention. They look tough and well-worn from lots of travel, just like Hoopa said they would. You wonder if she likes having them squeezed and massaged as much as she likes to be pet.

"If, if it's not getting t-too far ahead of myself, b-before we even start. What is the p-prize for winning?"

One of her ears, the one facing your side of her body, swivels back towards you. "Winner Guild get favor from all losers. Don't know who participate. Victini Guild win every time so they ban. Last time Mew Guild win."

Gwen stops at the edge of another hewn path down the rock face. Under you is a ravine with caves and paths carved into the cliffs, a river running through the middle in a lazy, swerving trail. Trails of paper lanterns run along the precarious looking walkways that spiral up the rock faces, which must light them at night for safety.

There are other Pokemon going from place to place between humble mudbrick and thatch houses, and crude wigwams arranged in communal circles around fire pits. At the very furthest heel-nook of the giant footprint you see a prominent shrine standing atop a hill. Gwen looks down on the place with a subdued look of relaxation on her face. "This Stepstone village. I live."

Chapter Text

Gwen takes you down the natural-looking walkways into the canyon. It feels too convenient for you that paths like this just formed all around the cliff faces, but the only signs of excavation you see are the attempts to pave the rocky path and make it easier to walk. Inside of the sheer walls are a network of hive-like caverns, and you can see Pokemon moving in, out and between them. Many of the residents are what you knew as Fossil Pokemon.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (4, 5/10)

The red lanterns hanging above the path have golden designs decorating them. It reminds you a lot of the traditionalist aesthetic from places like Ecruteak, but the symbols don’t actually say anything. To your eyes, they were just made to look nice.

After a winding descent, you step onto the dirt paths of Stepstone Village. Unlike the bleak landscape of the cliffs and plateaus above, the paths of the village are lined with lively trees and trimmed grasses that you can actually see over. Plenty of weeds too, which you can see a Cranidos and Kabutops working together to uproot and toss into a wooden wagon.

Across the stream that splits the village in two, you can see a tall, well-kept shrine. An Omanyte covered with paper charms and decorative beads is sitting on a flame-colored silk cushion resting in front of the shrine. All around her, cloth streamers in all the colors of the rainbow dance on the gentle wind. At the center of the structure, beneath a roof, is a lit brazier.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (5, 12/10)

It’s not hard to pick out a shrine to Ho-Oh when you see one. The Pokemon here must be religious, or at least have religions.

Gwen takes you to a huddle of humble huts, one of the clusters gathered in a circle around a communal bonfire. The huts are formed of cloth exteriors wrapped around a set of wooden poles to make a cone with a hole in the top. Inside the grass has been torn up and the dirt floor packed solid. She has a single straw bed piled together like a nest and a firepit in the middle of the hut. A thin stone plate is suspended above the firepit for heating food on. A wooden trunk sits next to her bed.

There’s plenty of empty floor space, but nowhere else soft for you to sit or sleep on.

While Gwen is setting down her bag, you try to take a closer look at the collar around your neck. You have to twist to the side and strain your eyes to get a good look at it since your neck doesn't bend up or down as far now. There are no buckles or clasps. A solid ring of gold like the one Hoopa used to teleport you here. You give up on that and massage your neck. "Where am- am I going to s-sleep?" you ask, voicing your earlier thoughts.

Your new partner sits in contemplation and looks at her bed. It isn't very large and, if you both slept on it, you would be getting very close. "Go to trade. Tell them Gwen send you. Get cloth to wear." She instructs you, but doesn't answer your question about where you'll be sleeping. Without further words, Gwen walks back out of the hut. You peek out after her and see her returning to the path you just took down from the canyon’s top.

And no directions. Now might be your chance to explore town on your own, so you take a look around at the places and Pokemon you might be able to check out.

Near the pathway Gwen is climbing, you can see someone else just arriving. An Archen, sorting through a brown satchel using their wing. A repetitive tapping sound of metal against stone pulls your attention away from the prehistoric bird, to a Tyrunt using his teeth and talons to chisel something out of a slab of stone.

You start to climb up one of the other pathways, up to the cave entrances that look more business-like. The first one you pass by on your search for a trading post is one with shelves of books lining the inside, arranged in several rows. Above the entryway is a wooden sign with an open book carved into it.

A Noibat with eyes gleaming in the dark is hanging upsidedown from a wooden perch set into the ceiling and reading an equally upsidedown book. Those big ears of his obviously must have picked you up from the clicking of your talons outside, but he’s so engrossed in his reading that he pays it no mind. You think from the tidy grooming of his fur, he might be the same Noibat that Hoopa showed you in his partner pictures.

Further ahead, a Flapple is perched on one of the cliff pathways and looking up at the clouds. She looks over when you approach as if she were expecting someone, but you aren't it. She waves to you politely all the same and returns to waiting.

Finally, you reach a cave entrance with a cloth flag above it. It has an image of a Pelipper and a Wooloo on it, which reads "Trade and Post". Inside you see rows of cubbyholes with names attached to them. Some have letters or parcels inside. A Wooloo is standing behind the counter, and behind her there’s a white wool curtain covering a tunnel to a back room. It must be made from her own ample floof.

While you consider whether to go in right away or chat with somebody first to get better acquainted with your new neighbors, your thoughts drift to the library and reading. The thought makes you do a double take at the cloth banner hanging over your head. The lettering of the “Trade and Post” is in those same footprint runes from one of Hoopa’s photographs. The Joltik in the marketplace, as you recall.

You don’t remember ever learning, but suddenly you’re able to understand what it says without even thinking. It must be one of those quality-of-life things!

Curiosity eats at you, maybe the librarian would know more about how all this works? But the better part of you don’t want to keep Gwen waiting and upset her any more than she already is. You crawl into the joint post office and trade shop, pulling yourself up and using the edge of the counter for balance. It’s been carved carefully out of stone, and the corners given a smooth edge to make them less jagged and dangerous.

It has the added benefit of completely hiding your lower regions, so you don’t need to worry as much about your shameful perversions leaking out in plain view. Not that they are! But, just in case. Even the idea of being caught like that is alluring and exciting. All your weird fetishes and proclivities could easily get you locked up or beaten back home… maybe it’s different here.

“H-hello there,” you address the Wooloo behind the counter and smile at her, trying not to look too unbearably smug. It’s hard for a lizard, they just radiate natural smugness. “I’m n-new in town, and see, Gwen, she- she sent me to get some um, c- some clothes to wear.”

She smiles back and bounces up and down on her feet behind the counter, her pigtails bobbing on the sides of her head. "Oh boy! Welcome to Stepstone, welcome welcome! What kind of accessories are you looking for?"

You look down at your lower half. Pants would look so dumb. "M-maybe some kind of, um, kilt? D-do you know what that is?"

“Sure, those are like skirts, right? Let’s see, what color would look nice on you?” She turns and drags out a stepladder from under her counter, helping her step up and reach the higher shelves. She’s more agile than her rotund cotton-ball body would suggest, traversing the stepladder with the easy grace of a Gogoat. Grabbing a purple cloth from the shelf in her mouth, she climbs back down and puts it on the counter. “Do you like this color? Does it fit okay? I think it would look great on you!"

You slide the short kilt off the counter and pull it on. Definitely not a skirt. Nope. A manly kilt. Oh, it actually is a kilt! It comes with a built-in cloth belt you’ve seen on them, which you tighten to your liking. The belt is black, which matches your scales well enough.

Letting go of the counter, you test walking in it both in your awkward two-legged waddle and while crawling on the floor. It doesn’t get in the way too much, it’s comfy and easy to wear. “It’s, it’s really g-great! Th-thanks, but uh,” suddenly you realize you have no money. Do they even have money here? “H-how much do I- do I owe you? I don’t have any-”

The Wooloo cuts you off with a swift shake of her head, her whole fluffy body swaying and bouncing with the gesture. “Don’t worry about it! You said Gwen sent you right? Her community credit will cover it!” She seems upbeat and chatty.

You smooth out your kilt and grab onto the counter, so that you’re closer to eye level. Being covered up helps things feel a little more in control. She giggles at the way your snout slides comfortably right onto the counter. To sate your curiosity and get some bearings in this new world, you question this friendly Wooloo.“S-so, what’s it like around here? I uh, I-I didn’t know there was a wh-whole credit system. Do you not have money?”

“Oh, of course we have money silly! We’re far out from the big towns here. It’s easier to pool our resources for things the village really needs from outside. Here in the village we trade mainly in items and favors.” That does sort of make sense. You wonder what a big town would look like, filled up and populated only by Pokemon? All those different kinds of bodies must get crazy.

The Wooloo places her hooves on the countertop and leans forward onto it, resting her chin against the smooth surface. She’s imitating your posture and giving you a playful look. “Is- is there anyone in-” you stop to swallow. “Anyone interesting living here?”

“Well, there’s me. I’m Amor,” a sweet smile from the outgoing sheep leaves butterflies fluttering around inside your stomach.

“I-“ oh no, girls flirting is a weakness. You try not to get tongue tied. “It’s nice to meet you, Amor. I’m M- Murdoch. Gwen and I are s-star- starting a Guild.” The sheep’s eyes flash open and light up like stars.

Amor scrambles against the counter as she hops up and down, her hooves clacking against the stone of the cave floor. You imagine them in your head, smooth and tough. But you prefer something soft to play with. The pigtails on either side of her head flap up and down with each motion. “Oh goodness is it time for the big competition already? We’re going to get super busy with letters and news and guild missions! I can’t wait to tell Anan!”

Her excitement is contagious, and you find yourself smiling too. Anan must be the Pelipper on the sign, you guess. “Sorry um, c-could I ask some more questions? I’m ju- just really new here, and still g-getting myself uh, in order,” you gently nudge. Amor stops bouncing and steps down from the counter to stand on the floor. She flutters her eyes and tosses her braids.

“Sorry, I got a little excited! What’s up?”

“D-do you know anything ab-bout the Noibat and t-the Omanyte?“ They were in charge of some of the more interesting sights you saw around the village.

"Sure! Victor is our librarian! He likes to write his own stories too. If you ask nicely, he'll let you read the spicy ones." She wiggles her eyebrows at you. "Neha is our priestess of Ho-oh. She resurrects the fossils Boris digs up. You might see him around too, he's an Archen." Your eyes widen. Resurrecting fossils just like magic seems crazy. Then again, they have machines back home that can do that too.

“So this, this Neha is l-like a village leader?” you wonder. Her shrine is one of the most prominent buildings around.

Her head sways from side to side in what might be a shrug. “I’d say she’s more like a village mom, or a grandma. She looks after everybody, but it’s not like she tells them what to do.”

With one of your claws, you trace the tip up and down your arm. For a moment you worry that you might scratch yourself, but your scales are tough and the sharp contact feels more pleasant than anything. More questions swim through your head, questions are all you have, really. There hasn’t been much that’s been explained to you since you got deposited here. Amor waits patiently, her head resting on the counter again watching you with her cheeks puffed out.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious about making her wait, you stammer, “Sorry. Just, ah, I was j-just thinking. The competition- it’s, it’s something ev- everybody knows about? S-sorry, Hoopa didn’t say much and uh, Gwen is…”

“Gwen is Gwen,” Amor says, giggling to herself and lifting her head back up so she’s not mumbling into the counter’s surface. “I know. It’s a big event, every five years the guilds disband and retire. A new group of six Legendary Pokemon pick their champions and a new one starts. Then you’ve got three years to become the top Guild!” So this happens all the time here, it must be commonplace for everybody.

“What about the um, r-ranking and recruitment? And you m-mentioned missions or… uh, req- quests or something?”

"Missions can be a lot of things, like rescues or exploring mystery dungeons, or if you make, like, a Cooking Guild you’d get catering events. Finishing them means you get paid, and you get famous! Fame is like the points for improving your rank. What kind of guild are you going to start? I can make sure you always get the most relevant missions for you!" It’s a bit sudden. You fluster and fidget, and she lets out a coquettish giggle. “Don’t burn out your brain on it… just think it over and give me a heads up once you decide, kay?”

You swallow and nod. “And recruiting… if you wanted to, to recruit someone, y-you just ask?” She laughs at the expression of intense thought still etched on your face.

"Just have them touch your guild card and agree to join. Easy peasy."

"Are- are all of the contestants humans?" you ask. Part of you wonders what happened back home. Will your family just find you missing one day, gone without a trace? You think you know what they’d suspect, given how isolated and depressed you’ve been these past few years. Ever since…

Amor's forehead creases in sympathy and her voice becomes a soft coo. "Oh goodness Hoopa really didn't explain very much to you at all did he? Yes, all of you are brought from the human world. Don't worry, Murdoch, if you want to go home after you're done, Celebi will take you right back where you left off." Maybe if you ask they’ll drop you off somewhere else, where nobody remembers your shameful reputation.

Wanting to move away from these topics, you pick at some other details you remember. “You, you mentioned reading b-books right, s-spicy books. Are you reading anything r-really sp-spicy right now?”

Amor hums and licks a little bit of saliva from around her mouth. "Yessir. It's about a dashing explorer who rescues a Sylveon from a dungeon, and his 'damsel' in distress is packing more 'heat' than he expected. I'm not sure if that's your preference though?"

“M-my preference? I um," you twiddle your thumbs together nervously. "I uh, I like to ex- experiment. I like to t-try what others like. And uh,” pausing, you freeze and lose track of what to say. “Anyways- uh, Gwen and I both lean towards different ways. I- I mean with the guild! I don't know how Gwen leans, th-that way. Okay maybe a little-"

Amor reaches across the counter and boops you on the snoot with her hoof, giggling at your word salad. Your nose is a sensitive spot and her gentle tap shoots tingling sensations up your snout. "So you like to try different things, huh? I'll make sure to give you a variety to choose from~"

"A-and do you have a 'backroom'? With um, m-more private clothes and maybe t- toys?"

A mischievous smile slips onto Amor and she bumps you with her hip as she walks back behind the counter. "The new guy is a deviant soul? Goodness me. All we have in our backroom is a bedroom, and anything in there isn't for lending~" She catches the frozen look on your face and smiles. "Aw, don't be so shy. If you really want something to play with, come back when you've earned some credit. I can order a special package for you~"

Being flirted with by a girl again practically short-circuits your brain and it resets to another topic. "M-my card only has six spots for recruits. How man- mm, many Pokemon can j-join one Guild?"

"They like to keep the guilds small. That way one doesn't run away with the competition by recruiting absolutely everybody!" She lifts a hoof to her chin and smirks, as if remembering a joke. "You should ask Neha about the time everybody won. It's pretty funny. Hoopa's guilds are always good for a laugh."

"Thanks for all your h-help, y-you- it’s really helped, Amor, a l-lot. Before I go, is there any m-mail for Gwen?" Coming out from behind the counter, Amor leads you to a cubby hole with Gwen's name on it. She pulls a pair of papers out and holds them out to you.

You take them in your claws. They're a pair of wanted posters. A Ghastly wanted for possessing other Pokemon against their will, and Morgrem from somewhere called Tallspire accused of theft who fled before his trial. "Gwen likes to keep up to date on the latest fugitives and bounties. Who knows, maybe one of them will be your first official mission?"

You shyly nod and start to shuffle out. “Th-thanks, again. S-sorry if anything I- you know, um, if anything I asked was t-too rude.”

“Don’t worry about it! Toodles!” she waggles a hoof at you on your way out, and you turn around to face the view from up on the cliffs just beyond her cave’s entrance.

The small village is just the same as you left it, except that the Archen is talking to the Flapple on the edge of the walkway. You scamper past them and peek into the library. The Noibat is still reading where you saw him last. "H-hello?" You step inside and announce yourself, getting back up on two legs. The Noibat's bright yellow eyes flicker down from the book to you. He tucks a bookmark into the page he's on and sets the book down on top of a bookshelf next to his hanging spot.

"Why hello there. I don't believe I recognize you. What can I help you with?"

"I'm Murdoch, the c-co-leader of the new Hoopa guild. Just d-doing me- doing my rounds." If Victor catches onto your Freudian slip, he doesn't mention it. The little bat drops from the ceiling and glides down in front of you.

"Then allow me to formally welcome you to our world. I am Victor, librarian." Victor reaches out with a wing and you realize he's looking for a handshake, so you return it.

"N-nice to meet you. B-books, I mean, what kinds of b-books are here? Can we b-borrow them?"

Leading you by the claw, Victor brings you down alongside the aisles of shelves. There are four sections. Fiction, History, Religion, and Exploration. With a swish of his wing, Victor invites you into the exploration section. "All of my books and maps may be borrowed, though I ask you not bring them beyond the village without permission. I'm sure any information at all will be helpful, but this section is specifically related to the Mystery Dungeon phenomenon."

Amor mentioned dungeons a few times. Curious to know more, you wander down that aisle and take a peek at the books lining its shelves. Many of them have the names of specific places, you think. The names of caves, rivers, labyrinths. Victor’s winged arm reaches past your shoulder to tug free one of the books along the shelf, titled Basics of Dungeoneering. "I recommend you begin with this. It details the practical knowledge you will need if you delve into a dungeon, without any of the scholarly jargon."

"W-what about, that is, is there anything ab-bout Pokemon? Or living in caves?"

A kee-kee noise from the bat startles you at first, and then you realize he's laughing. Giggling might be a better word, but it doesn't seem to fit his demeanor otherwise. Not like Amor's flirty laugh. "If you want to know about living in a cave, I am a primary resource. Did you have any specific questions?"

“Um, I c-can’t think of- of anything specific. Sorry…”

Victor steps out of the Exploration aisle and you trail behind him to the History section. "Let’s see, what else is interesting? We have books on the biology and known history of fossilized species. They are an in-progress collection being written by our own Persephone. The Flapple, you may have seen her in the village already."

You take the first of the books off the shelf and set it on the one you already have. Your ability to carry things in front of you is a little put off by your poor frontal balance and you start to teeter until Victor steadies you.

Regaining balance, you smile at him over the books. "D-do- thank you. D-do you have um, Amor mentioned you write?"

Victor tugs at his chest fluff uncertainly. "Well, I don't see why not. You know about them already. Might I ask you to review my writing and tell me what you think? Amor says she enjoys them all, but I worry she’s only being nice." He goes over to a bag of his things sitting beneath his reading stalactite. He takes out three folders full of pages and sets them in front of you. "Please, pick whichever interests you the most."

The first one is a detective story about a Murkrow and his manipulation by a domineering crime boss, with his daughter threatened for leverage. It’s called Detective Albert Nevermore, and it looks like he’s in the process of editing for a second draft.

Then there’s Virgil, Daring Adventurer. The second draft of an adventurous heroic Noivern and his mission to rescue a frightened damsel, who turns out to be hiding unexpected secrets. You think Virgil might be a self-insert.

And last is a work in progress feel-good story about a Hoppip separated from her flock who is rescued by a friendly Shelmet. He promises to escort her home. Victor doesn’t have a running title for that one yet, it looks like.

A detective story with a domineering crime boss excites you, and maybe if Gwen pokes her nose into it she’d get some ideas for bossing you around. You pick up the folder of Albert Nevermore and slide it into a hiding place between your two other books.

"Th-the ending of Virgil's story got spoiled by Amor. B-but this one sou- sounds nice."

Victor tucks the other two folders back into his bag. He twiddles his wingtips together. "By the way. If you're looking to get acquainted with people, maybe you could stop by tonight to-" He pauses and stammers his words as the Archen from outside walks in and past the two of you. He greets Victor in passing and returns a book to the fossil Pokemon section.

"Yes, hello there. As I was saying, to... help you read anything that's too... hard to get through on your own?"

The Archen pokes through different books looking for something in particular, and Victor's eyes flick between him and you with a little hint of hesitation mixed with disappointment.

"S-sure, unless- unless something comes up. I'd be happy to h-help you out with any h-hard stuff." You aren't the best at this innuendo thing. Thankfully the Archen is leaving and walks past with a new book and a whistle. You lean in closer to whisper to Victor. "B-but it might be too dark to get any reading done. Haha."

Then you remember Victor is a bat, so you probably didn’t need to lean in so close to whisper in his big floppy ears. Pulling back from his personal space, you awkwardly wave, accidentally dropping your books all over yourself. "O-oh no."

"Here, allow me." Victor helps you pick the books back up and arrange them in your arms, and sees you to the door. "Take it slow and careful on the path, alright? I’d hate for you to fall." He watches you with a bit of worry as you shuffle down the walkway in embarrassment. You hope he doesn't think you're a total loser.

A slow walk later you get down to Gwen's hit and find her arranging a pile of grasses pulled up from the field you arrived in. She's layered them into a second mat for you to sleep on. There are some freshly picked Berries in a pile next to it, she brought back Chestos and Pechas. "Mf. You back. Think you get lost."

"N-no, just got some b-books at the library."

You put down your pile of books and paper next to your sleeping mat. Then you pull out the wanted posters that came in the mail and give them to her. Gwen pulls them in front of her with her paw. "Good. Thank you. You like village?"

"I-it was nice. I met Amor. A-and Victor." You take a seat on your new bed. It's softer than you expected, and the fresh grass is still pleasantly cool, like the fresh side of a pillow. "Th-thank you Gwen. Can I have some b-b b- food?"

Gwen takes a seat on her own bed and nods quietly. You pick up one of the Chestos and bite into it. The flesh is thick and tough, with no messy juices and a mild taste. It reminds you of a gummy candy. You swallow the berry. Gwen has rolled a Pecha over to herself and poked a hole with her teeth, using it to suck out the sweet juices. Her eyes are closed as she savors and enjoys the taste.

"D-do we need to do anything today?"

"Train." Her response is short and blunt, but you were thinking the exact same thing. Gwen looks again at the two wanted posters on the ground. "Have mission. But you not ready."

The two of you are on the same page. And this means maybe you can see Victor tonight and see where it goes. After a fruity lunch you follow Gwen, her strong legs marching out of the hit and pulling you after on instinct alone. She leads you into a field of cleared, tilled up dirt. It’s soft from not being packed down. Gwen stands opposite you.

"Come at me. Not like before." A dark chuckle rumbles in her throat, and she broadens her stance, bracing for whatever you can throw at her. You’re not too sure what you can throw, yourself.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (13, 14/10)
Good thing you did a lot of reading as a human. You remember that female Salandits have powerful suggestion pheromones, but males have weaker ones that can cause arousal. And that they come from the flame patterns on the base of your tail. You squat forward on your foreclaws and stretch your tail, letting your kilt fall up around your body. A heat builds up in your tail and a sweet smell fills the air.

Gwen sniffs the air and flicks her ears. She gets a little bit of a cloudy look in her eyes and she starts to stalk towards you. Her tail hangs down behind her, pressed against her rear.

Rolling through her body, she lets loose a ferocious howl and begins to charge at you. You feel panic and adrenaline shoot through your system.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (14, 20/10)
Spraying poison gas has to come out of one end or the other, and you hope it's the less embarrassing one. Worries flutter through your mind about breathing in right after exhaling poison, but you should be immune to your own poisons, or you sure hope so anyways. Salandit poison is supposed to be tenacious.

Fire types' flame organs are usually in their throats. You don't want to accidentally spit fire so you decide to try your nostrils. A deep breath in and you close off your sinuses from the inside.

When Gwen gets close you let out your deep breath from your nose. A dark fume cloud shoots into her face, distracted by your pheromonal assault.

>Murdoch Poison Gas: Power Disadvantage, Evasion Down (8, 3/8)
The fumes do nothing to slow her momentum. Gwen barrels through the cloud with her eyes and mouth shut tight and her ears flat against her skull.

>Gwen Tackle: Fitness Advantage (4, 15/10)
The elation in your chest at success is knocked out when she plows straight into you and the two of you tumble across the soft earthen ground. You land flat on your back with her standing overtop of you. Gwen's teeth are bared as her eyes open back up.

You give some thought to an Ember, but you need to act fast. You do what you did before once already and breathe out a smog of itchy, choking fumes from your nostrils.

>Murdoch Poison Gas: Power Disadvantage, Evasion Down (14, 19/8)
>Gwen Poisoned
She must not have been expecting you to get your breath back so quickly. Gwen hacks and coughs on the acrid smog and you take the chance to slip away.

>Gwen Bite: Fitness Advantage, Quick Feet (21, 8, 15/10)
You don't get far. Gwen regains her composure quickly and grabs your tail in her teeth, yanking you back. You slide underneath her and she pins you under one of her paws. Before you know it, her teeth are on your throat, but not squeezing down.

Gwen lets go and pulls back. She coughs a few more times and manages to wheeze out some words. "Not bad. Hope for you yet."

When the acrid smell of the smoke fades, the sweet pheromones still hang in the air. You feel a few drops of something dripping on your lower tail. You look down and see flecks of clear fluid dribbling down from between Gwen's legs. In spite of her obvious arousal she keeps her cool and her face doesn't betray it. "You lose. New round?"

Pulling out from under her, you look down at yourself. There are tooth marks on your tail, like little indents. But you kind of expected there to be more blood, even if she was holding back her fangs must be sharp!

"S-sure. Just give me a m-minute to um, to- to figure something out?" Gwen abides and walks to the other side of the training circle. She takes a seat and watches you. While you get up, you run a set of clawed fingers over the marks on your tail, marveling at the strangeness of it.

But no, back in the now. Just more things to think about later. You decide to test the last move you don't know how to do. You're pretty sure you know how to scratch somebody, in theory. In practice, well, that's what the practice is for right? So a test run at breathing fire it is.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (2, 5/10)
You take a deep breath and inhale, then breathe out forcefully through your snout. Nothing comes out except for a strained wheeze. It's a little funny, you expected breathing fire to be the easiest of the things you would need to do.

"You need help?" Gwen is panting, herself. The poison must still be affecting her.

"I d-don't suppose you have any experience learning to breathe fire, do you?" you ask, with a lighthearted laugh. Gwen turns her head to the side and tries to breathe out heavily.

"No."

She looks a little shaky on her feet, but she's trying not to let it show.

"D-do you need to take um, a break for a b- a Pecha Berry?" Gwen hesitates to accept your offer, then nods. She walks over and you fall to heel alongside her back to the hut where the rest of the Berries she brought are. Gwen rolls one over to herself and bites into it with a satisfied hum.

"S-so um, could you tell me a bit about you, m-maybe?"

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (3, 17/10)

She grunts while she chews. After she swallows her bite she starts to look more lively again, her limbs not drooping so much. But it’s also clear that there’s overcorrection, a tension in her shoulders now. She doesn’t like to talk about herself much.

"Not much tell,” Gwen begins to say, licking some Pecha juice from her paw. “Hatch in dungeon. Grow up wild. In cave, alone. Then come here,” her eyes wander down to the Pecha while she looks for more to say. “Like sweet food. You?"

"W-w- I was really comfy growing up. M-my parents had a lot of m-money. I was a salesman at my d-dad's company.” You look down at the grass mat underneath you. It feels a little like bragging telling her all this after she admitted she grew up in a dungeon. The next parts aren’t so happy. "Things w-were pretty good. Th- then I got a girlfriend and, it didn't go w-well between us. S-she broke up with me.”

Not wanting to completely murder your reputation, you keep the more embarrassing details to yourself. "I d-d-developed a stutter. I uh, left to work for a c-catering service because, well, I c-couldn't- she told everyone a lot of bad things a-about me. And I c-couldn't talk as well anymore."

Gwen listens through your sob story, still chewing on her Pecha Berry. She must think you're even more of a loser now. You had everything and lost it all because of some girl.

"We fix."

"H-huh?"

She raises a paw and points at you. "Stutter. We fix. Start, talk slow. Less word. One at time." 

Having someone see you, and want to help, it makes a whole bundle of butterflies flutter around in your stomach. Licking at your snout, you give it a try. "Thhank you," you draw out the word, trying not to stutter. You manage not to fumble over your tongue, but it comes out as more of a lisp instead. "But I'm nnot ssure if th-thiss will help..." Defeated, you shake your head. Gwen walks over and places a paw on your back.

"First try. Take time, learn talk good."

Having someone cheer you on and pat you on the back feels really, really good after so long feeling alone. "Th-thanks for trying, Gwen. I'll k-keep trying to improve. B-but I think it's really my confidence, n-not my speaking skills. All in my head."

"Then we train more. Get you confident." Gwen stretches and steps back out of the hut, waiting to see if you follow. You could go for another round if you feel like it. It's starting to get late, you're not sure if you want to tire out before you even go see Victor tonight.

You and Gwen return to the training yard of Stepstone Village. After you told her about your pathetic past, she didn't make fun of you. Instead, she wanted to help. Gwen isn't a very good speech therapist, but she wants to help you gain more confidence in yourself. It makes you want to live up to those expectations. Maybe you could really be someone she could call a partner.

>Murdoch Willpower: (10/10)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (18, 6/10)
You decided to go with Gwen for another round of training. The two of you go back and forth for another hour. It’s not complicated. Throwing weight around, learning how to read when she’s coming or changing direction and getting better at your aim. At the end you feel tired but strangely satisfied.

You were even able to get the hang of your Ember move. You needed to roll your tongue back to let the fire tube open up underneath. It feels obvious now that you think about it. The open dirt area is nice for practicing with your fire and not worrying about setting any grass alight.

>Murdoch learns +Combat from Gwen

On the walk back to the hut, you hold your hands together and enjoy this comforting exhaustion blooming in your sleek, lizardy bosom. "Thanks, Gwen. That was nice." Your gruff partner bumps you affectionately with her shoulder. You don't feel as nervous around her anymore.

"See. Get better. Just practice." The sun has gone behind the cliffs around the village. You stop at the mouth of Gwen’s hut when she walks inside, and look on after her. The way she moves so surely feels reliable, like a rock. Your eyes wander less towards the tempting places, taking in the gorgeous whole.

You still have plans tonight with Victor, the Noibat librarian, so you sniff yourself for any post-workout stink. It just smells like Salandit, which some would argue is a good kind of stinky. You don't feel sweaty. Your breath is very hot. In fact your whole body radiates heat. Fire Types might not be at much risk of overheating, but you definitely shed heat.


Gwen pads down her straw mat before walking in a circle and lying down. She notices you lingering outside and tilts her head to the side with a silent question.

"I'm um, going to see Victor. We- we made plans," you explain. You hesitate, not sure how much to tell her. You're not sure what she would think. Actually, you’re not sure yet what’s going to happen for sure, but that bat was definitely flirting. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out an offer. "Do you want to c-come, uh, too? W-with me?”

Too late you realize how awkward it's going to be if she accepts. Gwen yawns widely. "Not big for books. Bad reader. Good night." When she closes her eyes and lays her head down you sigh in relief. You leave her to her rest and waddle to the path up the cliffside to Victor's library. For safety, you drop to all fours and crawl up the incline.

You don't feel very sleepy-tired even though your limbs are burned out and your lungs are still catching up. You do remember you ate a few Chesto Berries today. You're caffeinated and ready for a late night.

It is dark in the shadow of the cliffs and even darker inside. You can't see your feet in front of you as you step inside. "Vic- Victor?" You pad further in. It's eerily quiet and being alone in the dark starts to make your heart race. Was this just some bad joke?

Then you hear something outside behind you and whirl around. Victor's silhouette is outside the cave entrance rubbing his face with a cloth. He drops it down and you can see his bright yellow eyes clearly. He flaps past you and over behind something. "Apologies for keeping you waiting. I was just washing up a little."

A flick of a match and the light of a tiny fire illuminates Victor's ears behind his desk. He takes out some candles and lights them to help you see. A wet washcloth is hung off the side of the desk. "Better?" He comes out from behind the desk, his fluff sticking every which way from being rubbed with the cloth and still a little damp. He self consciously smooths it down. 

"H-hello. I thought I would see in the d- the dark better," you admit, coming closer to the light of the flame. He hands you a candle in a small wooden holder and you light it with a tiny puff of Ember. You settle down onto the floor and look around. Coyly, you ask, "This is a book club, r-right? Nobody else is here. Am I too early?"

Victor's bright eyes flutter as he looks down and tugs at one of his wings. He deflates from his previous excitement when he came in. "Book club. Right. It appears no one else could make it. Suppose that makes it just us." He laughs half-heartedly and takes a book from his desk. Oh no, he thought you were being serious.

In his wings is the same one you saw him reading before, you recognize it by the brightly colored bookmark ribbon. "I've been reading The Face in the Mirror. I wouldn't want to spoil it for you, I don't imagine you've read anything from our world? Were you reading anything before you came here?" 

"Lots actually, on account of the um, my uh-" fidgeting with your forepaws, you meekly admit, “I was k-kinda keeping to myself. Just for a, a bit.”

Victor takes a seat opposite the candle from you as though it were a little bonfire. His large satellite-dish ears angle towards you when he listens to you talk.

"Were you sick? Or just sick of people?"

Downcast, you look into the dancing flame framed against his neck fuzz. "Just sick of people I guess. M-my job, business wasn’t great and uh- t-they had to lay people off. And I was p- one of the people." Memories of rent panic and money woes come flooding back into your mind. If you ever go back, you're sure to be evicted soon, even if Celebi takes you back to before Hoopa floods your room. Oh goodness, if it’s after, you’ll have to deal with the water damage. Maybe it would be better just to disappear to another world forever.

What will your family think? They might not be surprised. They've been worried about you for a while.

Victor picks up on your sudden down mood and tries to change the topic to pull you out of the spiral. "And you were reading a lot?"

"Y-yeah. A lot of, of smut on the internet." Normally you'd be embarrassed to admit it, but he writes it.

"The internet? I've never heard of that."

Things have gotten way off track, and you have only yourself to blame. Wanting to course correct the mood back to the saucy late-night meeting originally planned, you attempt to subtly release some of your pheromones into the air.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage (8, 4/10)
Instead. as you stretch out your tail, you accidentally release more than you meant to. Victor notices the smell and his nose twitches. "Oh my, that's a very strong smell. Ah. Sorry, maybe it was rude to point out."

"D-don't worry. I know it's strong, sorry, s-sorry. Gwen was helping me practice b-battling. I m- mus- must still have some Sweet Scent on me."

Adjusting his seating to cross his legs in front of his crotch area, Victor folds his wingtips on top of his feet. "It's very fruity, I like it.”

"If you like it, do you want me to k-keep it going?" you ask, waving a hand through the thin trail of smoke above your tail.

Victor is taking slow, deep breaths, enjoying the smell. You can't see his lap past his wings, but his fidgeting and shifting must mean he feels it hitting him. His tension is melting as he relaxes more easily, lightly intoxicated by the perfumed scent. "I think it would be wise to maintain current levels, Murdoch. Don't want to get too ahead of myself. I don't have a great constitution for this type of thing."

Victor clears his throat and flicks his eyes away. “If it's not too forward to ask, what kind of smut do you enjoy? From writer to reader." In spite of the deep blush on his nose and ears, he is holding tightly to his composure.

"I usually, um, e-empathize with the um, t-the submissive characters. I get nervous when I have to t-take the lead. I also like when the d-dominant is smaller or weaker looking."

More squeaking laughs, and Victor lifts up a wingtip to his mouth. You catch a peek of something pink poking out. "You and I have something in common then. I try to branch out when I write, but it always comes back to wanting to be overpowered by a... typically feminine species." His nervous tittering hides his embarrassment at saying it out loud.

"Oh d-definitely. There were actually two artists who drew sm- s- tiny bat girls, I liked. Very cute. A Zubat and um, a N-noibat like- like you. There was some good d-dominant art of them."

You two might not be the most compatible as two subs, but you feel a bit of camaraderie knowing you know someone who feels the same way as you. Victor is giving you a curious look. When he talks next, he's more confident than before. "You know, I fear I may have been too forward when you said you were hoping to get acquainted with some Pokemon around here. I'm not sure we were on the same page." His gaze drifts down to between his legs.

"It might be your scent talking, but. You brought up bat girls. How do you feel about boys?"

You slink over the candle, its light from below casting shadows across your face and body as the patterns along your back glow in response to the warmth. "Boys can be cute too."

He already admitted to liking your scent, so you don't try to hide it when you increase the pheromone output.
>Power: Disadvantage (10, 18/10)
The pheromones in the air grow heavy. Victor swallows and crawls forward on his wingtips, taking a whiff. His small, erect penis hangs under him, revealing that he isn't very well endowed. That’s okay, it’s very cute. You feel your own poking out of your cockslit, against the inside of your kilt.

Sucking in a breath, Victor offers shyly, "I could pretend to be a bat girl if you like. I... have something I could put on." He reaches up and caresses your cheek with one of his wings. He feels along the edge of your golden collar. You wonder if he has anything to use as a leash. Even though you don't really like to be the dom, some petplay could balance the scales.

"Sure! B-but first I um, do you have a l-leash? F-for me, not for you. I like to be the... pet." Victor feels the smooth golden surface of the ring around your neck some more. He looks out into the night beyond his cave

"Well, if I were a betting bat I would say Amor has one somewhere. I... hold on." He gets up and walks behind his desk, his little pecker bouncing up and down as he goes. Victor starts drawing out of a roll of fabric on his desk. It looks like the same silky material his bookmark is made from

When he comes back around he has a length of soft red ribbon. You lift up your head to give him access to the underside of your neck and he slides it gently between your sleek skin and the golden hoop. Victor ties it to the collar and gives it an experimental tug. The ribbon holds. "Is that alright? It's not uncomfortable is it?"

Your scales aren't as sensitive as your skin was as a human. It might have been annoying before, but you barely feel it. "I-it's okay."

"Then sit tight my sweet, while your mistress gets dressed," Victor leans down and kisses your forehead, stroking your chin with the very tip of his wingdigits. He goes back into some privacy behind his desk and you hear him taking something out of a drawer.

There is a rustling of fabric. You feel tempted to look, but you curl around the warm candle and obey your mistress.

A tentative step back into the firelight draws up your eyes. Victor peeks around the corner of the desk and then slips into view, adjusting a frilly white headdress affixed to his ears. He's wearing a maid dress with a little silver nametag that reads Victoria. He tries to saunter up to you seductively, a demure smile on his face.

"Well boy, what do you think?" Victor does a twirl, his short skirt fluttering up and revealing he's slipped on a set of blue panties. You wonder for a moment if another guild chosen brought this particular fetish into the world, and if you should be thanking him or her. 

Lying at your mistress' feet, you rub up from the tips of 'her' toes to her ankles and the plump fluff of her thighs. You linger, allowing your bookish friend to take the lead. "I think you look g- gorgeous."

"That's a good boy."

He turns around to face you again. With a gentle tug of your leash, 'Victoria' draws your head higher, your snout bumping into a small bulge inside of his blue panties. A tinge of freshly washed, masculine scent meets your nostrils. The smell is quickly overshadowed by the sweet scent of your pheromones hanging in the air as the trappy bat undoes your cloth kilt and lowers it to the floor away from the candle lighting your escapades. Fully freed from containment, your dick dangles beneath you and a fresh wave of pheromones come with it. Not just that sweet scent of yours' but the musk of masculine arousal.

He leans down, tips of his wingclaws running from your scalp down to the nape of your neck, then draws your head out from under his skirt. He whispers softly in your ear. "If I do anything you don't like, just say bookmark and I'll stop, okay?"

You nod along.

"Now, give mistress kisses."

Nuzzling your snout beneath his chin, you draw your forked lizard tongue out to lick at his neck. The sensation of his fur against your tongue is less unpleasant than you expected it to be. It helps that he just washed up and must have treated it with some kind of hair care moisturizer. You stick your snout down into the chest of his dress, burying yourself in the smell and feeling of his silken fluff.

Claw-tipped wings wander towards your back and hips, running up and down your sides. Your body still feels very warm after your training session, and the warmth of the candle near your nether bits is more pleasant than frightening with your Fire typing.

"You're so warm. Like a little furnace."

Victor pulls away from your nuzzling and leads you by the leash deeper into the library, out of view of the moonlit cave entrance. He leads you between aisles of books, in the dark where the candlelight doesn't reach and only the glow of his eyes and your back break through the blackness. "Your mistress has been feeling lonely. Why don't we try one of your special tricks."

The foreplay starts to get more intimate. "This is starting to get a little tight. Fetch."

Victor pulls on the elastics of his panties and snaps them against his hips. You crawl up to him and reach up with your claws, but he tugs on your collar and forces your snout to press up against his balls again inside their cloth pouch. There is a little spot of pre you can see. "Ah ah ah. Your little claws have been all over the floor, so unsanitary. Be a good boy and fetch properly."

You obey, opening your mouth and sliding the top half of your snout inside. His scent is heavier inside of the fabric and you feel your cock twitch, yearning for some contact. Victor's twitches almost in sync, pumping against your nose.

With the underwear between your jaws you pull down, sliding it over his hips and down to his ankles. Victor steps out, one foot at a time. You look up, presenting the fetched panties to your mistress. "Very good." He takes them from you and places them aside on a shelf, bending down and pulling you forward to plant a kiss on the tip of your snout.

"Mistress wants to sit and read, pet. But mistress' chair is so far away."

Claws guide you down to the floor and your rump into the air. Victor settles down straddling your face, his small furry purple sack resting just in front of your eyes. Your snout pokes through his thighs and out the other side. He isn't very heavy. It would be more comfortable without the cave floor.

"... You can breathe okay?"

"G-good down here."

Reassured of your comfort, Victor reaches into one of the library shelves flanking the two of you and pulls off a book, using your raised rump as a bookrest. "I'm clean down there if you're into that sort of... I mean." Victor clears his throat. "Why don't you give mistress' hole some attention?"

Your keen smell receptors don’t detect any of the smells you would normally associate with down there. Victor is so freshly washed there’s note even any body odor or sticky sweat. Instead, it’s slick with a sweet-smelling, fruity scent. You open your mouth just enough to let your long, slithering tongue loll out. To tell the truth you're still getting used to using it. Curving up above your snout, you reach the equally trimmed and washed fur of Victor's backside.

Following the curve of his body you find the fleshy ring you were looking for. This fruity taste hits you, the source of the sweet smell, and your tongue glides over the surface like slick ice. Victor must have already applied some flavored lubricant when he was getting changed. The mild sweet taste has a tingling kick to it, and mixes well with the saltiness of his intimate skin.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (1, 11/10)
You've done a lot of cooking. This tastes distinctly of Leppa. The berry is an aphrodisiac and, like Chesto, it can re-energize a tired body.

Running your tongue along the edges of Victor's hole, you feel it twitch and squeeze. His dick twitches as well, bobbing above your head. The intoxicating taste of the Leppa combines with your own arousal and you feel a heat building up in your loins.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (1, 4/10)
Instinctively you reach back and stroke your length with a claw, but you find even that drives you quickly over the edge. Your body convulses and you gasp as you spray cum onto the floor beneath you and onto your belly. Your orgasm dies out and your dick begins to shrink back into its slit.

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage (1, 12/10)
Victor is panting. You can hear him. The book he was pretending to read is already set aside. "I'm close too..." As he tries not to fall over the edge, Victor tries to order you to finish him off. He mumbles and stammers over the words. For once you aren't the one stuttering and gasping. Victor can’t seem to get the words out, you start to pull out from under him to see what you can do and-
>Victor Lewd: 1
And before you can decide how to finish him, you are hit directly in the snout as he erupts prematurely, shooting directly in the right nostil. You sneeze and blow some of his spunk out of your nose.

"Oh, oh I'm so sorry." Victor looks at you in embarrassment, covering his mouth with his wings.

You reach up and run a claw through the cum on your face. Laughter starts to bubble up, but you remember when you accidentally blew too early and got laughed at. You hold it back long enough to give Victor context that you’re not laughing at him. "N-neither of us even t-touched the other's dick. We're both such s-s-subby sluts aren't we?"

Victor's embarrassed face cracks and he giggles behind his wings. You finally stop holding back and put a foreleg around his shoulders, the two of you falling back to laugh together on the cool stone floor. "It was f-fun though."

Reining in his shrieking laughs, Victor covers his mouth again and sits up. "I do hope no one heard me. I can be very loud."

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage (4, 12/10)
His eyes fall on the cum splatter you left on the floor and he gets up to take the washcloth from his desk and wipe it up before it dries on. He systematically wipes, folds, wipes, and scrubs until all traces are gone.

"S-so the maid outfit isn't all for show?"

"Oh, I like things just so. Cleaning comes with liking things clean. Here, allow me to get the worst of that off of you." Victor tosses the used rag into a basket with his lightly stained panties and fishes a new one out of his desk to wipe off your face and chest. Remarkably not a drop got on his maid dress. "What say I show you to the local hot springs for a late-night bath, Murdoch?"

"Are you going to w-wear the maid outfit?"

A whistle of air escapes between Victor’s fangs, and we waves a wing at the cave entrance. "Outside? Heavens no. I prefer to keep by private business behind... ahem, the door is a work in progress."

"What if you wore a towel in a feminine way and maybe, m-maybe it wouldn't look like you were taking two baths in one day? To keep people from talking, or asking questions.”

Now that the high from your orgasm is dying down you find yourself stuttering less with Victor. You feel much more comfortable around him, and around Gwen. Both know embarrassing things about you and haven't judged you about it.

Victor tugs the strings of his maid uniform and slips out of it, giving a little wiggle of his behind and walking daintily to his desk. He looks back at you and smiles. "I appreciate the thought Murdoch. I'm afraid no amount of deception will disguise the sole Noibat in this little village. Besides, it’s not as though I’m ashamed. I simply prefer not to be walked in on."

He slides his desk drawer shut with his threads tucked inside and meets you at the exit of his cave. The brisk night air blowing in reminds you how much the perfumey smell of your sweet scent fills the place up.

The two of you step outside and Victor leads the way up higher along the cliffside. The carven path curves around the contours of the great clawmark that forms the canyon and the path rises up and out. The wind gets more powerful above the shielding canyon wall and Victor pulls you closer for warmth, walking with one wing around you. He leads you in the direction of another of the clawprint canyons, past hardy ball cacti growing in the windswept soil.

"There are volcanic caves in the area, and so there are many hot springs throughout the region. They call this place Groudon's Steps. It might just be literal if the legends are to be believed." While he leads you, Victor gives you a small geography lesson on the area. "I'm taking you to Bigclaw Spring. It's the nearest, so many of the villagers frequent it. This late at night it should be only us two."

The trek carries on down another path carved into the rock. It goes down into the clawtip of one of the adjacent canyons and you can see the burbling water running down layers of bowls carved into the stone wall, all the way down to a final big pool at the bottom. Multiple little streams run off of the big pool and into the canyon.

Victor could easily flap down to one of the hanging bowl ledges. You feel less confident about jumping anywhere near this huge drop. So he leads you to the bottom at the edge of the water. You can feel its warmth.

Victor dips a toe in, then sits down on the edge and lets his feet both dangle into the water. You turn around and ease your lower half backwards into the water. The warm water feels fantastic. You don't even need to take it slow and get used to it, the heat just feels natural.

"What is your world like?" Victor makes some conversation as he gradually eases himself in to join you. The two of you are alone in the privacy of the semi-wilderness, and you feel a sense of intimate comfort.

Your world. What comes to you are the most familiar parts. The yellow brick of the buildings, the towers reaching up to touch the sky. City lights that never sleep, and the honking of rabid drivers.

"It was loud and bright all the time. Made of glass, m-metal, concrete. Very little green." You take a deep breath of the clean, wild air. The warm wet of the hot springs’ water steaming into the air coats your tongue. "Filled with the smell of smog and p-people. So many people, all l-living in small spaces." You’re not very nostalgic for it at all. Only some of the people.

Sinking down to his shoulders in the warm water, Victor sighs in comfort. He looks up at your distant expression remembering home. "It sounds dreadful."

"It w-wasn't all bad. We had machines to get around faster than a Rapidash or fly like the Eon twins. And the internet. We could use it to talk to people around the world, l-like we were all psychic."

Victor shifts around to face you. "Anyone in the whole world?" His eyes flick up to the sky as he leans back and lets himself float on the water. "I have some telepathy. However, it can connect only to those I'm close with. I can't imagine being able to connect with anyone, anywhere." Those satellite ears stay trained on you, rapt for more.

"The biggest change is, the Pokemon where I come from don't talk. And you're all very s-sexually open here. Hoopa even put this fetish thing on my guild card." Drifting past you on his back, gently paddling his feet, Victor lets himself stop right in front of you.

"Have you always been able to read footprint glyphs?"

"Um," you remember the banner above Amor's post office and trading post. It was written in what looked like different footprints. You were able to understand it right away, even though the shapes weren’t familiar at all. Well, not all of them. When it comes to footprints, you do have more experience than most.

Bumping into your lap, Victor looks up at you with a comfortable smile. His ears deform on either side, hugging your slim midsection. "I think they might have always talked, my friend. It's only now that you can understand them. It's well documented that chosen humans learn local languages with no effort, as if they'd spoken them for years." This whole Guild business just gets more confusing as you go. How deep do the ones running it have their hands in the inner workings of this place?

"Do the Legendary Pokemon do this a lot? Mess with people? B-back home they barely show themselves. Your world seems so b-bizarre."

"That would require some background information to truly make sense. Would you like a very abridged history lesson?" Victor offers. You get into a more comfortable position with your head resting on the edge of the pool of warm spring water. Victor remains floating in your lap, and you trace a claw through his chest fluff.

He takes it as his cue to go on.

"When the Legends shaped our world and sprinkled us across it, they left us soon after. Pokemon came together in communities where there were abundant resources, but there were always those left without. There was a lot of war and crime in that time, and we call it the Time of Strife."

"The Legends returned after two generations and found us warring with each other, to their dismay. To solve the problems, they spread abundant food and resources across the world. Suddenly everyone had enough to get by. The Legends forbade the Pokemon from starting wars and left again."

"What followed was the Time of Plenty. Berries grew in the street and sprouted anew when plucked. Trees cut down to make homes rose back out of the ground the next day. It was a paradise. Yet the Pokemon grew fat and lazy and succumbed to decadence. There was nothing to do, and they spent all their time finding ways to entertain themselves. Many a story tells of the atrocities they performed for the sake of a thrill."

"In two generations the Legends returned. They saw the decadence of the world and were again disgusted. The abundant resources they had gifted the world were swept away and turned to ash. It was then that one Legend proposed a solution. Your own acquaintance Hoopa was the one to establish the Mystery Dungeons."

"Moving, changing labyrinths were created and strewn throughout the world. Within each labyrinth were the abundant resources the world had lost. Each time one went into them, Berries and treasures in troves would be found. But they were no longer in the streets to be plucked at leisure. Instead, they were guarded by Empties, feral Pokemon without the gift of thought. Mew did not wish to bind thinking people to the dungeons, and made the Empties that they could be fought without concern of conscience."

"The Legends left as they had before, to return in two generations. What they found were powerful guilds established to unearth the resources of the labyrinths. But the guilds had control over those resources. As they had in the Time of Strife, the powerful took what they pleased, and the rest scraped and served at their feet. We call this the First Age of the Guilds."

"Once more, our Legends looked on in disappointment. They disbanded the guilds and banished their leaders from our world, for they had grown too powerful for the common Pokemon to overcome. This time, Hoopa and Celebi came together to propose the edicts of a new age. They built the Guild system as we know it today."

"A group of champions are chosen every five years by six of the Legends to become Guildmasters. They are taken from another world, to be certain they have no ties to old powers or preconceptions of the world and its ways. That way, they bring in new ideas. For three years they will compete to become the highest ranked guild. Then they will be allowed to continue for two more years."

"When the time comes for the new champions to be chosen, the former guilds are forced to disband and retire, that they will not become too powerful as they did in the First Age."

Victor stops, reaching up to tickle your chin. You adjust to meet his eyes. "That brings us to you. This is the start of the seventh set of guilds since the beginning of the Second Age of Guilds. You are to be one of the six people shaping society for the next five years." 

"W-wow. That would make your world really young."

While you process the story, Victor begins to run his wingclaws over your chest, rubbing away the dried-on traces of your late night experimentation. He lifts up one claw and softly trickles water onto your face, forcing you to close your eyes as he rubs the other marks off of your snout.

"Would it? I don't have a reference for how old a world is supposed to be."

You blink your eyes clear when Victor finishes scrubbing. "Ours is, a lot older. T-tens of thousands of years, at least."

"Truly? That is a very long time."

It strikes you as odd that they have fossils here with such a short history. But other topics come to mind.

"I shouldn't really get my hopes up. Hoopa called me a j- a- a joke pick. R-right to my face."

That news surprises your new bat friend. He rubs your shoulder and smiles. "I know Hoopa can be an odd one sometimes. Yet I believe he would not have chosen you if he thought it was impossible for you to succeed."

"By the, um, by the way. When Hoopa had me pick a partner, he l-listed you as one. What did Hoopa do that y-you owe him a favor?"

Bright face dimming with lingering regret and ill memories in his eyes, Victor looks down into the reflection of the moon on the water. "I prayed to anyone who would listen to take me away from everything. Hoopa answered and delivered myself and all of my possessions to this village." 

You decide not to press him on the subject and return his gesture by rubbing his shoulder. "I'm glad your wish got granted." Victor rests his claw over your own. He doesn't look up yet, but his expression changes from distant and sad to thoughtful.

"As am I. I've made a good friend here. You may not have chosen me as your partner, but are you looking for Guild recruits?" Lifting his head to meet your gaze, Victor looks hopeful.

"Dungeons and danger are not my forte, but I believe I mentioned a particular ability of mine. My telepathy lets me communicate from afar. I could help your guild stay connected. Even look up information you might need out there."

After everything, you can’t think of a better first recruit. You pull him into a hug. "Of course you can join! I- I actually wasn't sure how to do the recruiting thing."

The news makes Victor squeak in delight. "Fantastic! All we need is your Guild card." You reach for your clothes on the edge of the hot springs, only to realize you only have a kilt. You never brought the item bag with you since it felt like it was Gwen's.

"Oh, I don't have the c-card on me." You feel through your kilt just to be sure but there's nothing there.

"That's okay. We can take care of formalities another time. I think you ought to be clean enough to be presentable. Would you like to head back?" The water is warm and relaxing. You might fall asleep out here if you say and even if it's close to the village sleeping in the wild seems unsafe.

"Okay," Victor is released from your embrace and pulls himself up onto the edge of the pool, dripping trails of hot water from his limbs. Pulling yourself out after him, you realize neither of you brought any towels. You dry off best as you can with your kilt while Victor shakes himself off. His huge ears flop around and send water flying.

Together, the two of you walk back to the village. The wind of the high steppes is very bitter now that you're wet, but it also dries you off quickly. It's well past midnight now and Gwen must be asleep.

When you get back down into the village canyon you turn to Victor to part ways. "We might have our first m-mission tomorrow. I should get some rest."

"Oh, I hope I didn't keep you too late. Get yourself rested," Victor pulls you into one last hug with one wing and splits off when the two of you pass his cave. You climb the rest of the way down on your own.

When you get back to Gwen's home she is curled up on her straw mat, softly breathing. Good thing she doesn't snore. Your lizard limbs drag you quietly across the room to settle onto your bed of fresh grasses. After laying your kilt out to dry you try to find a spot you are comfortable in and drift to sleep.

Chapter Text

A nudging against your chest jostles you from peaceful sleep. Soft pawpads shove your side and rock you back and forth. Your eye peeks open, revealing Gwen’s fierce fangs and her fiery eyes. They are fearsome, but also magnificent. Everything from yesterday comes back to you, and you realize that this was not all a freak fever dream.

You're laying sprawled out on your back. Your back is a little sore and you don't feel rested. The sun is shining in through the doorway of the hut and it feels warm where your tail is lying in it. The sun is shining on your kilt. You hope it dried out overnight.

"Wake. Eat. Can't sleep all day," Gwen rolls a Chesto to you with her snout. She turns and walks back to her own mat where she chows down on a pair of Pecha berries. She places a paw on the two wanted posters from the other day. "Think we go catch. See you act. No worry. I can handle solo if you bad."

>Intelligence: Advantage (10, 8/10)
Something you remember from Victor's history lesson is that Pokemon from Dungeons are supposed to be 'empty' to make tying them to the Dungeons less morally questionable. But Gwen said she hatched and grew up in a Dungeon. You stare at her, looking her over for any signs of something strange, but it’s just Gwen.

Gwen must have noticed you staring at her because she huffs and tilts her head to the side. "Food on face?" She brushes at her face with the fur of her foreleg. She actually did have a bit of Pecha juice on her face, and seems satisfied to find she wiped it off.

You smile and shake your head while remembering the details about the two criminals. A ghost that possesses people, and knowing what you've seen so far it's probably to do lewd things to them. The other is a runaway thief.

"Which? You first time. You pick," your partner gracefully offers.

>Intelligence: Advantage (6, 20/10)

Morgrem is a middle evolution. The thief doesn't sound as dangerous from their description, but he might be stronger than the Gastly. Forcing yourself to roll over onto your stomach, you rub your eyes and take a second look at the posters. With one claw you point at the Gastly and with the other you take a bite of the Chesto. It was thoughtful of her to bring you what amounts to a morning coffee. "The ghost doesn't sound s-so bad."

Gwen folds over the wanted posters and picks them up between two paws, sliding them into the item bag. "Good. Jerk. Want fight." Gwen pulls the bag up and lets it hang around her neck while she finishes her breakfast. The reenergizing chemicals of the berry hit your brain like a splash of cold water and you start to feel more awake.

"You gone late. Have fun?" The blunt tone of Gwen's voice makes it tough to tell whether she means fun in an innocent way. She should have the guild card in that bag. Maybe you could bring her to see Victor about joining before you go.

"I spent some time getting to know p-people. Mostly Victor, but I talked to Amor y-yesterday. Obviously. Since I er, got the posters," you think about telling her about Victor right away, but you decide to test the waters first. "Also, Victor, he was wanting to join the guild. D-do you think it's a good idea?"

Gwen's lower jaw juts out in thought. One of her ears twitches and she reaches up to scratch at it. "You leader. You decide."

"B-but you're my partner. We're in this together. I know he's not the b-best at fighting, but he still can do unique things. Like coordinating with t-telepathy."

One of her eyes narrows and she looks at you crookedly. "Telepathy? Not psychic."

>Intelligence: Advantage (12, 19/10)
It's true that telepathic abilities are rare outside of Psychic types. Actually, you think Noibat is one of the only ones that can develop it naturally. "Y-yeah. Trust me, he's not lying. I know it sounds weird." You actually don't know for sure yourself yet, but you want to believe him. You can get him to show you how it works.

Gwen accepts your answer, without any more questions. She nods and stands up. "I will trust. We go see, then go hunt."

You slip your kilt back on. Some part of you is thankful you didn't end up with morning wood in front of Gwen while you were naked. Your endurance isn't very good and you still feel spent from last night, so that should help keep him down. Gwen naturally falls into taking the lead and you follow. Together you climb up into the village cliffs where Victor lives. Gwen didn't wake you up first thing in the morning and it's already close to noon out.

When you arrive at his cave you see Victor hanging upsidedown from his perch on the ceiling, peacefully asleep. There is a folded triangle of paper on his desk, facing the entryway. It says "Borrow what you need, please do not take them out of the village. Set returned books in box for sorting." In front of his desk is a wooden box. Also on his desk is a jar of something labelled "For Murdoch."

A plan for a little prank starts brewing in your mind. You scooch over to Gwen as quietly as you can and whisper, "Hey. When we wake him up, y-you should um... you should do it." The plan confuses your partner, who looks at you oddly. "Why?"

Grasping at straws, you try to come up with a way to explain it without spoiling the joke. "Do it like a- a jilted lover. It'll be funny."

One ear flicks down, to the side. Gwen walks underneath Victor and looks up at him. She takes a deep breath in and howls, causing Victor's eyes to shoot awake. He flutters his wings and looks around in a fit of confusion, then sees you and Gwen there. Immediately smiling, Victor lets go of his perch and flips around, slowing his fall with a flap. "Murdoch! Gwen! What time is it? Have I overslept?"

"I love you." As plainly and matter-of-factly as possible, Gwen states it to Victor. Victor practically freezes in place and looks deeply uncertain of what to do. Gwen looks back at you expectantly. She might not have understood the joke. 

It wasn’t the joke you’d meant, but it makes you smile all the same to see she’s willing to have fun. You make a thumbs up gesture with your claws, not thinking that it may not even be a normal gesture here. Whether the message gets across or not you go over to them and scratch Gwen behind the ear. She doesn't mind.

"Hey there Victor. W- I wanted to get you registered before we go on our first mission," you give no explanation for the strange wakeup. He stunned look fades and he collects himself. He still glances at Gwen, but answers.

"Ah, yes. You've brought the guild card?" Victor takes a few steps closer, standing on his tippy toes to try and look into the item bag from where he is.

Gwen pulls open the flap on her item bag and fishes it out with her mouth. She walks over and presents the card to Victor. He takes it and looks down at it. With one digit he touches one of the empty guild member spots.

"You weren't joking. It really does list everything right there." Victor's squeaky laugh sounds a little nervous as he hands you the newly updated guild card. His name and face are in one of your slots, giving you five free spots left for members.

You reach out and touch the new image, trying to figure out by what seeming magic this card changes itself. To your surprise Victor's image expands into a more detailed profile.

"So it seems we are officially teammates now. That whole thing before, that was some sort of joke right?" Victor presses his clawtips together, watching Gwen's face fruitlessly for any expression betraying her intentions.

"Hrmph. Murdoch tell. His joke," Gwen sells you out easily.

"I never took you for such a trickster. Maybe Hoopa did choose you for a reason," giving you a sly look, Victor smiles and brushes the back of his ear with a wingtip.

"So that jar is mine h-huh?" You quickly steer the conversation away from the topic of your bad attempt at a joke. Victor hops and flaps his wings, passing over your heads to land by his desk. He picks up the jar and offers it to you.

"A little of my personal recipe. It's the same kind I..." he looks at Gwen out of the corner of his eye. The jar smells like the lubricant he used during your encounter last night. You tuck the jar away in Gwen's bag. She gives it a sniff and Victor tenses up nervously, as if being found out were frightening. Nothing so far gave you the feeling that the Pokemon around here are prudish- Amor was pretty open about that stuff.

But she must just think it's food, because she doesn't comment.

"You said last night you can use t-telepathy? Will that work with Gwen?" it’s pretty commonly known that Dark Pokemon are tough to connect with psychically. Victor looks at Gwen uncertainly.

"It only really works with those I'm close with. Murdoch and I could probably manage. And I don't meant 'acquainted' close, necessarily. That's only a bit of a shortcut." The innuendo in his voice seems to go right over Gwen's head. Or else she just has a strong poker face. Tucking his wings behind his back, Victor bobs forward and back on the tips of his feet. “Once you connect with someone, it’s much akin to a friend group. A friend of yours’ is a friend of mine, as they say. So if I connected with you, Murdoch, it might be easier to connect with Gwen later.”

“Then. You do Murdoch?" Gwen asks. Her wording makes Victor cover his mouth and try not to giggle, turning into a nervous cough. There’s a giddy, hesitant excitement about him. He looks out from over his wing and focuses sharply on you.

~Can you hear me?~ His voice resonates inside your head as though it were coming from all around you. There is a little static. It reminds you of listening to someone through poor quality headphones, or maybe one of those old radios.

>Intelligence: Advantage (12. 7/10)
You guess that to reply you just have to focus on him and "think" back at him. At first you put your finger to the side of your head, but it feels silly so you let it hang back down over your stomach with your other claw. Victor’s bright eyes meet yours’ and you think back at him, ~Yes?~

Victor nods physically and answers Gwen's question. "I can indeed do Murdoch. Dark types are more difficult to connect with, but in time I do believe I can manage. We may have to get to know each other sometime, Gwen. Perhaps discuss a book you enjoy?"

Gwen grunts in the back of her throat and shakes her head. "Can't read good."

"I would be happy to teach you." Victor's offer gives her pause and she thinks it over quietly. Her tail slowly brushes back and forth across the cave floor and she smiles, baring her wickedly sharp teeth.

"Would like. Thank friend Victor.

Victor performs a formal bow, his ears drooping down to touch the ground. "Nothing would delight me more than servicing my guildmates."

The initial nerves are starting to fade, as he gets comfortable around Gwen. Victor seems to be having fun and getting bolder with the innuendos, seeing how much he can throw them over Gwen's head. You blush beneath your scales, feeling warmth run along your snout. Part of you hopes Gwen doesn’t catch on, and the joke can keep going. But part of you hopes she does. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be open about it? She was very understanding so far, considering the pearl necklace you gave her right when you met.

Gwen looks into her bag and pulls out the wanted posters. She gives them to Victor. "I read little. Thief, Gastly, Morgrem. You read better? We hunt Gastly first."

Accepting the slips of paper, Victor eyes them over. His pupils rest on the Morgrem's wanted poster longer than the Gastly's, but he folds it behind the other. "It says your target likes to possess others. Lucky for you Gwen, possession is as difficult to do to Dark types as telepathy is. I might even be able to help Murdoch if we keep ourselves connected."

Something crosses your mind and you question him more on his ability. "How do I c-connect if I want to talk to you? L-like, f-from far away."

One of the bat boy’s ears flicks. "Simply picture me in your mind, as you looked into my eyes just now, and focus. Our connection will strengthen the more we use it, like a muscle or rote memorization." Victor slips the two posters back into Gwen's item bag for her. They're already developing saliva stains and tooth marks where she picks them up in her mouth. "Assuming that they sent you wanted posters for criminals in the area. A ghost aiming to possess others would want to go where there are people, but would not risk coming into the village. Our protections from Ho-oh's shrine would make him reconsider."

Victor moves into the library shelves and pulls out a book of maps, handing it to you. "As it so happens, Empties are particularly vulnerable to possession. I would check for your mischievous ghost in a Dungeon." He turns the book to the pages on the dungeons around Stepstone Village. "Any of these would be a good place to start your search."

There are three Mystery Dungeons close to Stepstone Village. An aptly named Twisting Canyon, where the cliffside pathways warp into impossible ravines and coiling, double-back trails. A Volcanic Cave, a relatively young dungeon that the book says spawned only a few weeks ago. It looks like Victor added records of the dungeon himself. Lastly is one called the Glass Labyrinth. The book describes it as a series of now-inactive volcanic tunnels where obsidian can be found growing organically from the walls.

The last one sounds the most interesting to you. "I don't know. The glass labyrinth sounds n-neat I guess, eerie black glass caves g-growing underfoot. A ghost could like that? Maybe that one?" it feels like a good guess, but you’re not very comfortable yet asserting decisions.

Gwen gets this rumbling in her throat that you mistake for a growl of disapproval at first. It turns out she was just thinking. "You, maybe possessed. How I know?"

You were just thinking the same thing, as it so happens. "W-we could establish a password. How about... bookmark?" Victor's satellite ears swivel subtly in your direction. Subtle if it wasn't for those ears being as big as your whole body.

He stays quiet about the safeword and gives you some advice about your plan, "A password will need a reply, or she will not know if it truly is you." That's right. If she just say bookmark out of nowhere, it would seem weird. The ghost might catch on.

Scratching your chin between two clawed fingertips, you think aloud, "W-well. A question could give away the password. What if you sneak the password into a sentence a-and if I don't stop what I'm doing that means I'm possessed."

Gwen's nose twitches a little. She purses her mouth up in the way she does when she's thinking about something. "Bookmark, in sentence?" Her way of saying it is awkward and not at all natural. It might be obvious if she tries to use it in any complicated way. You puzzle it over and think you have a better idea, but a fun idea comes to you.

"L-let's practice, I'll give you an example. Gwen, try pinning Victor down and licking his face or whatever comes to mind, until he says it the right way."

"What?" Victor looks at you in surprise and is caught off guard when Gwen pulls him to the ground and stands on top of him. She leans down and begins licking at his face, causing him to squirm. "Ah, please don't! You're getting slobber all over me!"

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (18, 13)
>Victor Fitness: Disadvantage (8, 6)
Try as he might, Victor is powerless under Gwen. Beneath her thick fur, her muscles ripple as she holds him against the ground. Her legs are as solid as vice grips before the flailing of his wimpy wings. You can tell she's not pressing down very hard.

"Remember Victor, the p-password."

Victor opens his mouth to speak and splutters at getting some slobber in his mouth. "Bookmarks go in... books?" he manages to get out a few words edgewise between licks, his usual eloquent language dissolving under pressure. Gwen looks up at you and you shake your head. Not good enough. She leans in and bites his ear, causing him to squeak. There's no blood, so she's only holding it in her mouth.

"I think we may need a better system!" Victor calls out. You notice between his legs under Gwen a little bit of pink is poking out of his sheath, in spite of himself.

He's right though, Gwen will have trouble coming up with something believable to say under pressure. You let him squirm a little more, knowing he's secretly enjoying it, before you make a different suggestion. "A-alright Gwen, we can let him up now." Releasing Victor's ear, Gwen backs off. Her eyes flick down and she notices the arousal between his legs. Grunting in amusement she takes a few steps back and sits down.

Victor pulls himself to his feet and quickly grabs a cloth to wipe his face off, then holds it over his crotch. "Was that really necessary?"

"We bonding," Gwen gruffly laughs. Victor's ears are deeply blushing.

As much fun as messing around is, you sigh and suggest that perhaps the easiest solution is the simplest one: "M-maybe it would be simpler to just ask if I'm possessed if you're suspicious. If I say bookmark it means I'm m-me." The ghost might not know you stutter either. That should be a dead giveaway for her to be suspicious. Gwen nods along with the idea.

"Easier. Will do."

Shuffling behind his desk to better conceal his half chub without dangling a cloth in front of it, Victor self consciously looks at the cave entrance. But nobody is there. "Well now that... that is settled. The Glass Labyrinth is tunnel system. There are no active magma flows underground unlike in the volcanic caves, but it’s still warm. You can expect to run into Rock, Ground and Fire types. Possibly even Steel." Those aren’t great type matchups for your team.

Gwen walks over to the cave entrance and looks back at you expectantly. You try to think if there's anything else you need before you go. Gwen has credit with Amor's trading post, after all. “I,” you hold up a claw and count out on the digits. “I think we should get a Rawst, a Pecha, and a-an Oran. At the trading post, b-before we go. Is that… okay?”

A bob of her head in silent agreement, and Gwen turns on the spot to lead the way. You cheerfully wave at Victor and scamper after her, coming to a comfortable four-legged trot at her heel like a good boy.

Beneath the familiar banner, you see Amor’s face brighten up. She clacks up onto the counter with her front hooves, wearing a great big smile. “Gwen! I missed you, girl, but your new roomie was kinda cute yesterday. How was the first night~?” Her pigtails swing from side to side, like windchimes to match her voice, and she shoots you a wink.

A quiet smile on her face, Gwen pads up to the counter with her tail swaying gently back and forth. She too stands on her hind legs, paws on the counter, to be at eye level with Amor. She’s up on her tippy toes, with her hindpaws on tantalizing display. “Slept well. Murdoch go see Victor. Gone most night.” Licking your snout, you pull your eyes away and lock eyes with Amor peering at you.

“Ohoho!” Amor laughs brightly. "Spending all night with Victor were you? You'd better not neglect my best customer~! That's you, Gwen."

You join Gwen at the counter, your chin resting atop it while your claws keep you balanced. “N-n-never dream of it. If you ever, um, want to bond, Gwen, I- that is, I'd very much like to participate. A-as your Guild partner." Her fierce red eyes look aside at you and she makes an amenable rumble in her throat, a kind of a purr.

“So forward~” Amor sighs dreamily.

Before the meddling sheep can steer the conversation in a direction that will distract you from what you came here for, you smooth down your kilt and get to business. "S-so Amor, we were hoping to grab some b-berries. Mm. A Rawst, a Pecha, and an Oran? If that's still okay with Gwen, s-she has all the credits." You meet her eyes and she nods in approval to confirm.

“And wood flask,” Gwen says simply. Amor slips away into the backrooms, after picking up a woven basket from under the counter. She returns moments later with the basket carrying one of each of the requested berries, and a long, bottle-shaped wooden flask. The basket is set down in front of Gwen.

"There you go, doll."

Using her paw, Gwen slowly turns the basket over and begins to roll the fruit into her item bag. Not wanting to get them too bruised, you lend a hand with your more dextrous paws. She sniffs the bag and licks you softly on the arm, then rumbles to Amor, “Good. Fresh smell. Thank Amor.”

“You two stay safe out there!” As you leave with Gwen, Amor flaps her hoof in the air to wave you off. The trail down the cliffside still feels kind of dizzying, but you’re getting used to the sight of the expanse of open air beneath you. Gwen is a quiet walking companion, which gives you time to think.

“How do we c-catch a ghost?” If only you had a Proton Pack…

Gwen wiggles from side to side, making the wooden flask inside of her bag clink against the bottle and jar of liquids inside. “Force in flask. Gastly stuck till let go. Bless at shrine, wood food for. Ghost no escape, stuck good.” So that's why she asked for it. She seems to be experienced at this sort of thing. On the way to the dungeon you make note to ask her to tell you some stories about her past catches.

Speaking of stories, you remember you have a bunch of books tucked away in her het. “Gwen, can we stop at y-your place?” The two of you get back down and go to the circles of huts that makes up the village's residential area. The books are piled in the corner of the hut where you left them. Victor asked not to take them out of the village, but you don't think Gwen will want to waste the day. Not wanting to keep Gwen waiting, you flip through the pages of the book scanning for key words and phrases that seem important. How to skim a book for test material is a skill you learned back in school.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (19, 8/10)

Guilder’s Guide Vol. 3: On the Basic Practices of Dungeoneering

By Tammy, of Uxie’s Guild

The dungeon itself displays an awareness of Pokemon within its bounds. So long as a conscious Pokemon remains within the dungeon, the layout of its paths will not change. The structure will remain fixed so long as it is observed.

Even though the dungeon is unchanging, Empties will continue to appear as long as a Pokemon is conscious on that level of the dungeon. Whether they enter through pathways that close behind or generate spontaneously is unknown, for Empties will only appear in places that are unobserved. Supplies like Berries and Orbs will not generate spontaneously unless they are carried in by generating Empties.

Should a dungeon remain fixed around its explorers for too long, a strong wind will begin to blow through it, as though the dungeon itself were growing angry or impatient with those within. Should the explorers still refuse to move on, they will be swept up and cast out of the dungeon.

A Pokemon that is knocked unconscious by Empties will not hold the dungeon fixed, nor incite its impatience to eject them. They will need to be rescued by outside aid.

…

Entering a dungeon is a one-way street. The path out will disappear behind you, so beware and be prepared before you take that step over the threshold. If another Pokemon enters the dungeon, they will appear somewhere else, so do not think to game the system and have a friend open a path out behind you. All you will accomplish will be separating yourselves.

The only way out is through. Unless you have an Escape Orb on hand, you will need to reach the very end of the dungeon. There, a straight path will open leading you out.

Only one exception exists, and that is a rescue. When a Guild finds a Pokemon in need of rescue, they can use their Guild card to send the rescuee out to the safety of the nearest town. At that time, the Guild may choose to follow their rescuee out through the same portal.

…

…

Renewal is simple. If at any time there are no Pokemon inside of a dungeon, the layout and contents will change. Even if every resource has been stripped clean, all you must do it step back inside and it will be full and ready for harvest. This is the basic principle of ‘farming’ a dungeon, allowing explorers to gather food and medicine.

Gwen is pacing back and forth outside, her dark form hustling past the tent flap. You can sense her eagerness to get going. Finishing the last paragraph on the current page, you set the book back on the pile, now armed with more knowledge than you had before.

“S-sorry to keep you waiting,” you sheepishly murmur with your snout poking through the flap, rubbing your claws together. Gwen’s ear twitches and she looks back at you, then flicks her tail.

“Is fine. We go now.” Your partner takes the lead, and you scamper to catch up. She’s leading you back to where you first came down into the footprint-shaped canyon, and the climb back up is a little less nerve-wracking than looking down the whole time. You can just keep an eye on Gwen’s cute paws and know where to go, easy peasy.

Above the canyon are broad, red-soiled plateaus with soft, dusty dirt that leaves a rust-colored coating on your claws. You get up onto your hind legs and slap them together, then wipe what you can off on your kilt. It’s already kinda dusted up from sliding over the ground. Along the edge of each canyon you get to see a beautiful natural view of springs, fountains and pools below. Like tiny microcosm gardens of Eden.

Curiosity bubbles up the longer you go in silence. “Um, Gwen? You've been doing this solo for a w-while. Do you have any stories? Any r-really dangerous criminals you handled?"

Gwen keeps her eyes forward and her ears flick around, alert. But she does respond to your question. "Yes. Criminal often flee. Hide in dungeon or wild. I am at home in dungeons." She releases a puff of air from her nose and shakes her head. “Am tough. But alone. Never go to danger alone, bad idea. Amor give petty criminal. Thief, troublemaker. Fight or scare them. Be nice, work with other again. Take down real criminal.” Her pace slows, while she turns her head to look at you with one eye. There’s hesitation, skepticism. You were okay in training but she must be worried about you in a real fight. You’re a little nervous, too.

The two of you arrive at another path down. This one is narrow and precarious and you have to stop talking. Your low stance and gripping claws are helpful. Gwen walks carefully and methodically.

>Murdoch Fitness: (13/10)
>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (16, 10/10)
Reaching flat ground at last, you and Gwen step onto the rocks and grass at the bottom of the cliffside. Your heart is beating rapidly and you feel a little bit of a thrill that you made it down without any problems. You used to go to a rock wall at the gym before you shut yourself in back in your world. That was with a safety harness, so not exactly the same thing.

"Not bad. Walk all way here, no complaint," Gwen brushes up against you. Her voice sounds impressed. "Not soft boy. Is good. Stay good. We fight soon." Gwen looks away at the canyon wall and you follow her eyes. A round tunnel opens up in the wall not far from the cliffside path, the sides of the tunnel made out of slick black glass that reflects the light of the sun in a brilliant gleam. Deep inside you can see spikes coming out of the walls. They’ve got tips that glow with purple light.

You swallow down some nerves. Elated to have earned some of Gwen’s trust and respect, you steel your courage and boldly lead the way. Gwen watches you crawl past and falls into step behind you, then picks up the pace so you’re walking side by side. She doesn’t seem to like having someone else at the lead. When the passage starts to narrow and forces you to proceed single file, she grunts and reluctantly falls back to walk behind you. “Okay. You lead. Is good, to learn.”

It’s enough to see by in the purple light, but it’s hard to make out distance and detail. Depth perception feels hindered. The black glass walls swallow the light, visible by its absence instead of by its touch. When you look for your reflection, a pale silhouette in the shape of you stalks across the advanced darkness of the obsidian, broken and distorted by the curves, edges and spines. A hum comes up from beneath your toes and you can feel the earth vibrating like it’s alive.

You shudder. You can definitely imagine this place being a ghost’s playground. Up ahead is a break, where the passage goes off in four different directions. You look back just to make sure Gwen is still there, and she looks back at you silently, waiting for you to make a decision. No one direction seems more appealing or important than the other. Not wanting to let her down you continue leading the way, picking at random.

>Intelligence: Advantage, Easily Lost (13, 16/12)
Your sense of direction is not very good. But you do have a good memory. You pick out that you went in a circle soon enough to stop yourself from doing it again. It confused you when the tunnel the two of you came in from was gone from the intersection of paths leaving only three, but you remember what you read. The only way out is to keep going.

The remaining path opens up into a wider room. Wisps of purple light drift through the air like embers cast up from a fireplace, and frightening stalactites of sharp black glass hang from the ceiling like waiting fangs. They reflect ghostly outlines of everything living in the cavern.

And you’re not alone with Gwen anymore. There are two canine forms lying in the room and three other tunnels that branch off along other walls. They are different from Gwen, an earthy brown color, and there is a collar of stones around their necks. Two Rockruff, sleeping.

Slinking back into the corridor, you look to Gwen for direction. “D-do you think, should I give you support and y-you go in?” you whisper, so as not to wake them up.” Gwen brushes past you, padding quietly on her pawpads until she’s positioned between the sleeping Pokemon and you. Your view of the room is blocked, as she takes a ready stance to lunge.

“Take one at time,” she commands. You close your eyes and start trying to work up the sparks of an Ember.to spit at one of the sleeping canines.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage, Sleeping Target (3, 13/5)

Once Gwen is out of the way and stalking around to flank the first Rockruff, you release a puff of fire and smoke. Instinctively, you try to look away from the attack which throws off your aim. The tiny flame sputters against the glass floor and goes out. Grabbing your snout, you muffle your coughing on the smoke.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Combat, Sleeping Target (17, 14/3)

Thank goodness your cough didn’t wake up the sleeping Rockruff, Gwen lunges in and stands over it. She sinks her teeth into it with a Bite. Each shake of her head worries it, shaking it around like a ragdoll and leaving black aftertrails behind her fangs. The Rockruff wakes up and snarls at her, struggling back. You were worried about whether you could handle blood, but you can’t see any red. Even with how Gwen’s sharp teeth should be sawing in when she’s shaking him around like that.

>Rockruff Fitness: (8/10)

The enemy clumsily tries to tackle Gwen into the wall to shake her off, but is unable to overpower her. The second Rockruff is starting to wake up from the cacophony of canine snarls. This time you get a better view when its eyes open up and lock onto you. They are completely white.

Off-putting as the Empty’s eyes are, you flex your claws and get up on your hind legs. If you’re not good at getting your powers to work, you’ll get in there with Gwen and mix it up.

>Murdoch Fitness: (12/10)
You never learned any kind of fighting, but that primal ape part of your brain or… soul, or whatever the human in you is- he knows what to do. You punch, scratch, grab and gouge with your nails. His hide is tough, like scraping your nails against a rock. Unable to dig in, you kick off of him and stumble back as he thrashes around.

>Rockruff Fitness: (12/10)
As lean on the wall to get your balance back, the Rockruff barrels into you from the side and sends you rolling along the ground.

>Murdoch has a minor injury

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Skill (14, 5/8)
Gwen's sharp toothed grip holds the other Rockruff steady and she throws it against the wall. The Pokemon's body flickers and goes out with an afterspark of light, like an old TV screen. There’s no time wasted, and Gwen springs between you and the remaining canine while you roll onto all fours.

You don’t want to disappoint Gwen. To look useless, with your inability to deal any damage this fight. Clenching your teeth as the two search for openings in each others’ stance, you look at the glass spikes along the wall. Maybe you could break them off and use them as weapons, or throw them. But that would take too long, and leave you open. Then, an idea comes to you. The oldest trick in the book.

>Murdoch Charm: (14/10)
The moment before they lunge, you cup your hands around your snout and call, "Q-quick Victor! Get him from behind!"

You point at the back of the room. The Rockruff, in spite of its lack of a real mind, recognizes the context of your command and spins around to defend against a flanking attack that doesn't come.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Skill, Distraction (12, 10/7)

>Rockruff Fitness: Distracted (8/11)
Before the Rockruff can turn back around, Gwen lands on his back and grabs him by the neck. He thrashes and throws himself back, bucking like a rodeo bull, but Gwen has him at too advantageous an angle. She keeps him pinned beneath her.

>Murdoch Fitness: Distraction (6/9)
This is your chance! Overeager, you scurry up to its side and try to grab it by the legs to keep it from bucking around, but it kicks you in the nose and you get knocked away.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Skill (11, 5/8)
Your partner though, she has things under control. With a sound of bone cracking she jerks the enemy aside and it flickers out of existence like the other did, vanishing in midair. Gwen lands on her paws and shakes herself.

She walks over and looks at your sides where you got scraped up a little by the glass floor. "You fall down. Okay?"

Looking down, you inspect your side. It’s sore, and scratched up a little, but not too bad. There are red lines, but no blood seeps from them. “I- it’s okay, I c-can keep going.” With one claw, you prod at the red streak, wincing as if you’d touched the raw flesh of a cut.

Grunting in what you think is approval, Gwen turns to inspect the other two exits from the room. “Why am I not b-b-bleeding?” you ask. She glances back to you, with a flick of her ear to the side.

“We no bleed. Not here,” her lips peel back in a fanged grimace. “…No. Fights hurt, but no kill and no die. Is way is.” While that’s news that makes a lot of the nerves and fear bleed out of your pounding chest, you look at the scars on her side. They look deeper than the sort of thing these little red scrapes would leave. Reaching out, you run a claw over the rough patch of fur.

Gwen pulls away and walks several paces towards one of the paths. You sense she doesn’t want to talk about that right now. Gwen, c-can you help me break this off?“ you ask, placing a claw on one of the glass spikes and hanging from it. This seemed like a good idea earlier. The sharp, glowing tip is warm to the touch and the spike feels solid.

With a cock of her head, Gwen plods over and takes a seat beside you. “Why?

"Well see, humans make up for being w-weak by using weapons. This will be a lot sharper than my little c-claws." Gwen thinks over your explanation and nods. She climbs up with her forepaws on top of the spike and you take a hold of it closer to the end where it's thinner. This is probably really dangerous. Glass can be unpredictable when it breaks.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (12, 6/15)
>Murdoch Fitness: (+7)
>Lucky Advantage: (17/15)
With Gwen bouncing hap-hazardously on top of it you yank the tip down. Almost as if by a miracle it snaps off at the end with a smooth, round break at the base. You have a naturally formed obsidian spike to use as a dagger.

Gwen lands beside you with the grace of a cat. Turning the new weapon over in your claws, you look up at her and smile slyly, an expression that creeps naturally into your lizardly face. "Ready to go, Gwen. Thanks."

All of the tunnels look the same, either going off into the dark or curving out of sight. You decide to take the tactic of sticking to the left until you find something or go in a circle

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Easily Lost (20, 15/12)
You often got lost when you go out camping or even at the mall. But what is exploring if not getting lost on purpose? With that in mind you stop caring about where you're going and pay more attention to where you've been.

The turns and twists have you all spun around and you don't know which way is north or south anymore. But you know you haven't turned back around on yourself. Then you stop and you hear footsteps ahead. Hard, clinking footsteps of claws. From the darkness ahead comes a short green Pokemon with a tall spike upon its head and a hard external plating. The Larvitar's eyes are glazed over and white just like the Rockruff's before. When it sees you, aimless wandering turns into purposeful strides in your direction.

Gwen is right behind you, but the cramped space of the volcanic glass tunnel makes it impossible for her to slip up beside you.

You think quickly and flatten yourself to the ground down low, looking back and flicking your tail to urge Gwen forward. "I-I'll boost you!"

>Murdoch Fitness: (4/10)
Gwen steps onto your back and you feel the sudden weight of all her muscle atop you. You mean to push up and give her a springboard over the Larvitar, but you can't manage it. Gwen runs right over instead and goes in from the front.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Skill (18,13/8)
Grabbing the Rock Type's head spike in her teeth, Gwen jerks it down hard The Larvitar is planted facefirst into the ground. She lets go at that moment and lets the rebound throw it onto its back.
>Larvitar Flinched!

>Murdoch Fitness: Clumsy (16/12)
Gwen is in the front now, so you come up behind her. "Going over!" Gwen lowers her hindlegs and you scramble up her back, hopping over her like a ramp. You clumsily flail your way through the air but are able to stick the landing, right on top of the Larvitar!

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (5, 15/10)
You grab hold of one of the black markings, testing it with your claw quickly before you prepare to drive the glass spike in. It doesn't feel as tough as the rest of it, just like you thought, and you swing down with the spike in your other claw. It sticks in, sinking through the Larvitar’s body. Luckily, the spike doesn’t break off at all.

You’re not sure what driving a spike into something’s chest is supposed to feel like, but intuition tells you it’s not like this. It’s more like passing through than stabbing through in the moment before the Larvitar flickers and winks out. You fall a few inches and land back on the cave floor with a surprised yelp. You can hear Gwen laughing deeply behind you. "You crazy. We need work you out more."

You look back and see Gwen looking at you with renewed respect. She steps over you and you close your eyes as her wet tongue drags across your face in one big slurp. "We can bond. After next training. You like?

"O-of course. I need to be a little crazy if I want to keep up with... you." There’s a burning throughout your body. Gwen walks past, her tail brushing up against your warm back. Your eyes spot a bit of a wet spot between her legs as her tail sways ahead of you, and an enticing smell in the air. With her in the lead now, you clamor behind.

The hallway in front of you breaks and a massive cavern opens up. Gwen steps out into the open and looks into the dark. She probably has better dark vision than you since she's a Dark type. But even you can make out the gleam of three sets of white eyes further in, and a tunnel leading down into the floor.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (15, 10/10)
Her feet spread and prepared to pounce, Gwen gets ready for a fight. Then you feel a sudden chill up your spine. You react more quickly than you thought you could and leap into the room, spinning in the air and hissing like a startled cat. Behind you in the opening of the hallway is a Gastly with very much not empty eyes, giving you a smug smirk. "Don't worry, skink. I'm not going to hurt you."

Gwen's ears perk up and she twists around to face the ghost. From deeper in the room are a pair of Larvitar and a Rockruff closing in behind her now. "Doesn't look like you have time to worry about me," the spirit taunts her. He drifts closer to you and Gwen snarls, forcing him to keep his distance.

He eyes you up and smirks. "You have trouble using your Moves don't you?” He asks. Was he somewhere nearby watching you since you got here? Dragging his long tongue across his fangs, the ghost tempts, “Let me in and I can help."

>Murdoch Charm: (18)
>Gastly Intelligence: (6)

"Y-you're right." Forcing yourself to be calm, you lower your head in acceptance and take a few cautious steps towards him. Gwen looks at you in surprise and peels her ears back. The Gastly buys it, he lifts his head… self? There’s a smug satisfaction on his face.

"That's right. We can be good friends." Keep thinking that.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage (18, 11/10)
He had the drop on you before, had you separated from Gwen. Now you have him right where you want him. As the Gastly  moves in, you hold your breath and breathe hard out your nose. Acrid, itchy smoke erupts in the Gastly's face. He doesn't bother to hold his own breath and confidently advances through them, amused even by your attempt. Then he starts to cough and gag as the corrosive poison bites his- do Gastly have throats?

Weird ghost anatomy aside, your plan is working! He backs away into a wall, too distracted by hacking up the cloud of fumes to phase into it. "How?!"

"G-g- go wreck his face, girl!"

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Skill (14, 5/8)

Before the Gastly can recover his faculties, Gwen is on him and gnashes through his smoky body with her fangs. They leave black trails in the air behind them like afterimages, which crack apart and spread through the Gastly on contact. He shudders and yelps as if painfully shocked.
>Gastly is moderately injured

>Gastly Fitness: Disadvantage (17, 19/10)
In a desperate response he lashes Gwen with his long tongue. She shudders as the sopping wet appendage soaks her fur, but it doesn’t accomplish anything but make her angrier.
>Not Very Effective: Minimal Effect

The Empties are closing in. Gwen is still on the Gastly, and her back is exposed. You hurry to her side and slip a claw into the Item Bag.

>Murdoch Fitness: (7/10)
>Blind Luck Advantage: (12/10)
Your claw wraps around something just before she jerks away in her fight with the ghost. You look at what you snagged and it was just what you were after, an Oran! "I'll k-keep them busy."

Mustering up all the confidence you can, you hold the Oran in your mouth with care not to crunch into it. Alone, you stand off against the three approaching Rock types. Let them come to you, you think. This is all to buy time for Gwen.

>Gwen Will: Howl, Combat (11/8)
Behind you, the canine fighter lets loose a chilling howl, tensing up in anticipation of taking down her opponent.

>Gastly Charm: Advantage, Trickery (13, 9)
>Gwen Will: (11)
Eyes glowing soft pink, the ghost stares right into Gwen's eyes. She meets his gaze defiantly, but then her jaw goes slack. That defiance becomes her downfall, and Gwen can only stare into his eyes unable to move. When the Gastly drifts away, an afterimage of his eyes remains in place, locking Gwen in their cage of the mind.
>Gwen is inflicted with Sleep

>Rockruff Fitness: (11/10)
>Larvitar Fitness: (15/10)
Caught between a ghost and a hard place. Before you can turn to help wake her, you get slammed into by a Rockruff. You tuck in and roll, but then a hard glass chunk slams into your arms folded across your chest and you gasp in pain, nearly dropping your Oran. When your vision rights itself, you see the Larvitar standing next to a broken glass pillar.
>Murdoch is moderately injured
>Murdoch is critically injured

>Larvitar Fitness: (12/10)
At least you aren't the only one having a bad time, because the Empties don’t target you exclusively. A second chunk of black glass is chucked at the Gastly and passes through him, scattering his gasses. His eyes squint shut in pain and he releases a hiss of noxious fumes between his fangs.
>Gastly is majorly injured

Everything is getting blurry and darkness creeps in around the edges of your vision. You taste the tart flavor of the Oran between your jaws. You squeeze with all your might. The mere action of moving your jaws is like a monumental effort. The crunch of the berry between your jaws, the juice flowing down your throat. You nearly choke, forcing yourself to swallow it down. A surge of energy fills your sore limbs and numbs the stinging pain in them.

>Murdoch is moderately injured

Still dazed by your fading brush with un consciousness, half-baked plans and scenes flash across your eyes.  You roll over back onto your stomach. Your ribs hurt. They hurt less by the second. The Oran does its work. Gwen. You need to find Gwen, snap her out of it. How to wake her up?

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (19, 7/10)
A good slap might do it. Or shout in her ear. Call her name. You've heard Trainers do that sometimes. Your vision comes back into focus. The Gastly is struggling to stay aloft. Weak streaks of smoke drift around his wavering central mass as he hangs barely above the ground. Two Larvitar stalk to his sides, flanking the ghost whose bravado has long since crumbled to dust. Neither of them pay any attention to Gwen.
>Gastly has become critically injured by poison

He can do nothing to stop you when you run past him. Run might be too generous, you’re crawling desperately. The Rockruff steps on your tail, and climbs atop you from behind.

>Rockruff Fitness: (19/10)
Paws pin down your forelegs. The weight of the canine on top of you holds you in place as you struggle to try to get to Gwen. Having him- is it a him?- on top of you sends a warmth to your loins. Damn Salandit instincts. Damn perversions. You shout at yourself in your head.

This isn’t the time!
>Murdoch is now majorly injured
>Murdoch is now Grappled

>Larvitar Fitness: (3/10)
>Larvitar Fitness: (13/10)
Two chunks of glass you see torn from the ground. Larval rockbeasts heave and throw, with no technique or care. Only brute force. One sails past the rippling trails of the ghost’s corona. It lands against the floor with a loud crack. The other isn’t so lucky, for him. The glass passes through the Gastly and he flutters down to the ground, lingering in a congealed mass like a pool of fog on a windless night.
>Gastly has fainted

>Gwen Will: (1/10)
Gwen is still sitting where she was, staring into the ghost of a gaze. She’s right there, but the Larvitar don’t even look at her. It’s like she’s invisible, not even a thought. Instead the two Larvitar turn to you. You, pinned under a rock dog.

Everything in this world has been strangely perverted so far. Well, not everything… but everything you touch. Another one of Hoopa’s jests. Tail locked flat against the ground, you fear the Empties may take a perverted interest in you as well. Thankfully, or not so thankfully, they only have aggression in their- in their stances. In their eyes is nothing.

"Gwen! Gwen s-snap out of it!" you shout, desperately.

>Murdoch Charm: (18/10)
Her name startles her out of her stupor. Gwen blinks and looks around in confusion. She spots you on the ground with the Larvitar closing in and the Rockruff on top of you. Instinctively she starts to run over, but you stop her. "The card! G-get the ghost in the bottle!"

Gwen skids to a stop and turns back around, pulling the wooden bottle out of the item bag. She releases her jaw and sets it on the floor, scooping the Gastly's fumes in with her paw.

>Rockruff Fitness: (18/10)
Your captor presses down on you. He stomps on your head and pushes it into the floor. It’s a painful squeezing sensation, and you start to fear more for your life than your loins. The cuts, the wounds- never more than surface deep. Never life-threatening. So far. But the body only knows that it’s not made to take pressure like this…
>Murdoch is now critically injured

>Larvitar Fitness: (5/10)
>Larvitar Fitness: (12/10)
You can see Gwen running over with the stoppered bottle in her mouth when one of the Larvitar kicks you in the snout and you black out.
>Murdoch has fainted

...
...
...

You are floating in an empty space, empty except for bright light that dazzles yet doesn’t hurt your eyes. Psychedelic shades of yellow and pink float around you. You start to drift aimlessly, rolling backwards. There is no pain from your injuries, and you feel fine. In fact, you feel a sense of something shifting and growing stronger inside of yourself. You sneeze, and the smog trail that drifts out before your eyes looks thicker, darker, and feels more burny in your nostrils.

>Murdoch has gained Experience from completing a mission
>Murdoch can now learn Smog
>Murdoch already has four natural moves, and must forget a move to learn Smog
>Smog (Power): Causes minor injury and Poison to the target.

>Poison Gas was forgotten
>Smog was learned

"Congratulations, Murry. You got the snot kicked out of you but you succeeded your first mission!" A familiar voice chimes from behind you. You try to turn around, waving your limbs like swimming until you can see the other way- underneath, you think? Or up? Sense of direction is not your best quality, in the best of times and with gravity to tell you at least one of the axes.

Hoopa is there, floating behind you in the ephemeral expanse. He leans forwards resting his head on his arms with a shit-eating grin. You feel frustration and indignation boiling to the surface. With one claw, you point at Hoopa accusingly. "W-what did you expect, huh? This is w-w- this is scary! Is it this hard for everyone or am- am I really just a joke?"

The outburst doesn't put a damper on Hoopa's mood or his grin. He floats easily through the colorful emptiness, coming in close until he can put an arm around your shoulders. He is just the right size to do it now that you are much smaller than before. "Murry, buddy, pal. You're practically winning! Did you know two of your competitors totally failed their first mission and need to be rescued now?" He assuages with a wheeling and dealing smoothness that feels intentionally fake. Is he even taking you seriously?

Each of his grabby hands takes you by one of your shoulders and rubs. He's rough and kneads deep, but it feels nice all the same. It’s enough for you to let him keep talking. "And after every contestant's first mission their patron gives them a little something-something. A little prize for popping their cherry. Not that you or Vicky got that far.”

Still tense and wanting to be angry, the kneading hands of Hoopa make it hard each time they squeeze the stress out of your body. If you're even in your body. Reluctantly, you let it all out in a deep sigh. "F-fine. Honestly it went... better than expected. I knew going in t-that the types would be rough. What's this p-p- p- reward?"

"There you go. Just remember, champ in the making. The best jokes are the ones no one sees coming."

Hoopa gives you one last pat on the shoulders and spins you around to face him, face inches from his own. For a second you think he might force you to kiss him again. With a flick of his wrist he pulls a sheet of rolled up paper out of a portal and unfolds it for you. "Three perks to pick from. Each of them a little taste of my powers."

You take it. It looks old, like a scroll of coiled parchment from a museum, but it has none of the grit of old paper. It has no grit, no anything at all. You can feel yourself holding it, but it’s not like holding an object. More like holding a thought.  You can read from it, but the shapes don’t make any sense. More like looking at a page you’ve already read, and recognizing how the text falls all together. Remembering how it went.

It reads…

Murdoch! You have completed your first mission and earned a milestone perk. Congratulations!

Choose one:
Thief King's Fingers:

By my right as the Thief King, I can give you the gift of a swift and silent paw. Thievery isn’t all I’m known for, though~! With my blessing you’ll be able to turn anywhere you touch into an erogenous zone. I’m sure that’ll help you keep up, Murry.

>Murdoch gains Advantage when trying to take an item from someone else's person. Murdoch's claws cause erogenous stimulation when touching people.
Hoopa's Collar:

A collar made from one of my very own hoops. This pretty thing has the same lewd power as the collar I gifted you, so feel free to tempt your friends into indulging each other. But that’s not all!

I’m the King of Thieves, and that means I have a special affinity for outlaws. With my collar, any thief, bandit or fugitive you defeat can be forced to obey you. The rules say I can’t use your collar to take control of you, so don’t you worry your pretty little scalebrain.

>Murdoch can make one extra golden collar at a time. It gives its wearer Experience when Indulging others' fetishes. Defeated outlaws forced to wear the collar must obey Murdoch's commands.
Thinking With Portals:

This is one of my favorites, the ability to make portals anywhere. Well, not anywhere just yet, not for you. There’s no lewd additions to this one, so sad, but I’m sure you can find your own ways to corrupt my poor innocent portals.

>Murdoch can create two linked portals on flat surfaces. Each portal is created separately and only becomes active when the second is made. Any new portal replaces one of the active two.

Rigorous internal debate tugs at you, silently, in this glimmering dreamscape. The silence is a vanity. You can see on Hoopa’s face with each twitch and quirk of the brow that he can ‘eavesdrop’ on whatever he likes.

All three of these gifts sounds promising for different reasons. But your thoughts turn to Gwen. She loves to be touched and stroked. More than that, you worry about your performance. With magic fingers you wouldn't need to perform well with your dick. Your dick might as well be unnecessary. “T-t-” You nervously clear your throat. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest. She said she’d like to… bond. First impressions, you think to yourself. "The f-fingers please."

Hoopa's pearly teeth practically split his face in two. He reaches out and caresses your long chin, sending quivering waves of pleasant vibes through your body. They culminate in your loins in a warm pressure. "The power to enslave bad guys to your will. The power to fold space and walk across the world in a single step. And you want magic fingers?" His mitten-like hands explore further, running up and down your neck. Your legs would give out if you weren't already floating. You aren't even sure which way is up.

"Y-yes. Gwen l-likes to be pet, so, well. It's f-for her."

Manic grinning shrinks down to a small, soft smile. "Thinking of your partner first, huh Murry? You really are full of surprises." The answer caught him genuinely off guard. He wasn’t eavesdropping after all… were all the faces just to mess with you? What if-

Hoopa leans in and presses his mouth against the tip of your snout. Almost automatically you open up and he licks at the inside, nibbling on your lower jaw. The thoughts you were having melt away as you sink into his grasp. You want so much to ask for more. To submit fully to this legendary creature. But your tongue is too busy wrestling with his and your body is frozen, wracked with shudders of pleasure.

Then he breaks off and floats away. You feel a sudden emptiness. A void where his touch used to be. The warmth in your loins screams in dissatisfaction

"W-why?"

Your patron twirls around behind you and gives you one last slap on the rump. It's like lightning through your body and your legs twitch helplessly. "Wouldn't want you to spray all over Gwen's face again would we? You're already going to have some morning wood for her to stare at. Hoopa spins around and floats back in front of you. "You can turn your magic fingers on or off whenever you want by the way. Just need to want to. Easy instructions, right?

"W-wait," you feel yourself begin to drift away from Hoopa. Noises and jumbled words coming in fragments. Consciousness beckons. "Rivals. M-my rivals, who are they? And when is the n-n- th-" You stutter and reach out. Hoopa waves as he slides away into the distance.

"It'll be more fun to let you find out yourself. Good luck, Murry!"

Then it's gone and you hear yourself grumbling incoherently. Something soft and fluffy is in your claw. You crack open one eye to see you are grabbing onto the side of Gwen's face. Her cheek is lifted up by your palm, revealing her sharp fangs, and her eye is scrunched up.

"You wake," she grumbles. Gwen is lying next to your bed of grass in her hut. You feel cold spots and a constricting feeling around your midsection. Your eyes groggily drift down and see the blue tentacles of an Omanyte holding a cold cloth to your bandaged torso. She is unbothered by your twitching morning wood.

"You get faint. I bring home. Murdoch no worry. We got ghost," Gwen swats a familiar wooden bottle over with her tail, prompting a spectral grunt from inside.

You try to sit up with a groan as a spike of pain shoots through your torso. Gwen gently, but firmly pushes you back down. "Don't try hard." Her paw rests upon the clean white bandages.

"Ngh. G-good work getting us out of there Gwen." Giving in, you lie back down. Curious, you ask, “W-why bother with bandages if we… d-don’t really bleed?”

“Berry supplies stretch further if you spread them over bandages in a salve,” the Omanyte answers. Her voice is soft and a little worn, like the auditory equivalent an old and familiar blanket.

This new power at your fingertips breeds curiosity. Mischievous thoughts slink in your mind and you feel a light buzzing sensation in your fingers, like a static charge. You reach out with a claw to her. A tentacle wraps around your palm and the Omanyte shivers visibly. There is a faint blush in her face. She does not verbally acknowledge the feeling, but she doesn't flinch away. With remarkable self control she shakes your claw and then releases it.

Hoopa’s playful flirtatiousness is a little too contagious. You feel a pang of guilt at testing the power on the lady treating you, but no harm done. "T-thanks for the help. I-" you cough a little, your chest aching. Gentle tendrils work at the wet strips of cloth on your chest.

"Easy, child. Let the salve do its work. Gwen told me your name earlier. I am Neha, a maiden of Ho-oh," she introduces herself. Neha, she tends the shrine. You remember that. Gwen lays her head back down next to you, resting on her forepaws. Neha lets go of the cloth and reassures you, "The worst of your wounds have mended, the work of Oran salve. You are still bruised and sore. Only rest will mend that."

Lifting her tentacles, the ancient mollusc crawls to the entrance of the hut. "I must go for now. I will return to change your bandages tonight. Rest easy, you performed well today.” Neha exits and you are left alone with Gwen, who sits quietly by your side.

"You hungry?" 

"Ng, no, I'm Murdoch."

Gwen's head tilts to the side and her ear swivels towards you. She accepts the no and remains where she is, the dad joke apparently going over her head. Or she's spiting you. Giggling to yourself, gently so as not to pain your sore chest, you admit, "I-I'm only kidding. I'm starving."

With a quiet grumble, Gwen gets up and goes to her food pile. It's gotten smaller since before and is almost all gone now. Gwen picks up a Pecha Berry and carries it to you, holding it right in front of your face. You realize she expects you to take it right out of her mouth, to keep you from moving too much. Flushing a little at the strangely close contact, you bite into the Berry and she lets go.

It takes some time and effort to gnaw at the berry without moving any parts that hurt. You take bits and pieces at a time. The sweet, sticky Pecha juice gets all over your face and neck in the process. When the sweet meal is done, and you are no longer painfully hungry, you lie back and relax.

Now for the good news. "I um, I saw Hoopa while I was out. He gave me a new p-power," you announce.

"Power. What kind?" Gwen's eyes are on you and you try to find the right words.

"Well I, I-I can grab items from people better. But I picked it because it makes me m-much better at petting. My fingers can give p-p- pleasure. You know because I saw your uh, you like petting. On the G-guild card."

Once you start, the words burst open like your mouth was a floodgate. Gwen hums lowly in her throat. It sounds less like a growl and more like she's purring. "Sound nice." She moves closer, her head near your lower area. Your junior is still standing at half mast after Hoopa got you all worked up. Gwen's warm breath brushes it when she sniffs at it and you feel it start to twitch black to life. "Good dream."

Her ear twitches and her mouth pouts. That rumble in her throat returns, but the rest of her body language shows hesitation. Feet poised to pull back. "You choose, for me. Because I like petting in sex. That mean. You want to do sex now?"

You close your eyes and lay your head back down. Looking up at her angle above your torso is straining your neck muscles. "Of- of course. You’re… y-you’re hot. And I mean, you've been so supportive. And I've just b-been dragged along." Biting at your tongue, you meekly confess some of your misgivings- "I'm n-not very, I mean, I'm useless at fighting. But I hope I don't slow you down too much with my injuries. W-we still have more dungeons to dive into and criminals to catch. So, I want to do this. For you."

There is a shift in the light coming in through your shut eyes and you feel the presence of Gwen standing over you, her paws on either side. She leans down and nuzzles your neck and the bottom of your snout. Her body hovers above you, not touching down so as not to strain your injuries. "Not useless. Need practice."

Her wet tongue snakes out and drags down your neck, sliding under Hoopa's collar and then back up. Her tail sways between her legs, brushing up against your length, and you can't help but dribble a little onto your crotch and against her fur.

"I d-don't just want you to give me pity sex either..." you reach up and scratch under her chin, not turning on the groove hands yet. "You already helped me a lot. I, I want to do something for you."

Gwen raises her head back up and looks down between her forelegs at your battered torso. There is a deep chuckle in her throat. "If I go crazy now, I break you. Maybe when better." As hot as snu snu sounds, you really don't want to die to it. Or stay in bed for a week, or whatever happens here.

"Why don't you just lie down and l-leave it to me?" You reach up and run a claw through the thick fur of her chest and neck. Letting them sink down to the skin, you feel familiar contours and muscles shifting, the same places as in your first encounter with Gwen near the lake.

Gwen steps aside and lays next to you, sidled up and within reach. Her body is warm, but you imagine you must be even warmer. Something you don't even notice anymore. You're already getting used to this body.

Turning over to the side with some mild pains, you wrap your arms around her and run the tips of your claw over her back. It strays up and settles behind her ears, rubbing and scratching. The other digs deep, rubbing her chest and underside.

You bring one of your legs up to rub her thigh and around her flanks, teasing and avoiding the naughty places under her tail for now. You're pressed up against her side, lying there and hugging her. It's the most intimate position you've been in with someone in a long time. Even fooling around with Victor there wasn't so much close contact.

Gwen is breathing through her nose, deeply in and out. There is a gentle hum in her chest you can feel. It hikes up and she twitches as one of your claws brushes past a row of nipples on her belly.

You want to let this new power flow again. This is what you chose it for, now is the time. "I'm going to start t-turning the fingers on." That sounds so strange to say out loud. Gwen grunts affirmatively and you focus on the claw rubbing behind her ears. The feeling of static between your fingers settles in and you hear Gwen's breathing sharpen.

One solitary digit on your other paw circles one of her nipples, teasing it with no assistance from Hoopa. Her powerful thigh muscles clench and release each time you brush up against the center.

"You have really nice muscles."

Gwen rubs the side of her head up against your own. "You, nice scent." Her voice is deep and husky with arousal. The repetitive motions and close contact are so relaxing you feel yourself drifting off again. Even still leaking bits of pre onto Gwen's side and your bed under you.

The thought strikes you that the Gastly is still contained in the little wooden bottle in the room. Embarrassed, you wonder if he's heard everything going on.

Oh, who cares. Let him be jealous. The claw scritching at her head moves down to rub the side of her neck and knead deeply into her shoulder, feeling and massaging the muscles underneath. The tingle of your magic fingers sinks into her and you feel her hips gyrate, rubbing against her tail between her legs.

"I will pay you back," Gwen growls next to your ear. "When you walk. We train. Then I put you back in bed." A shudder of anticipation runs from your ear down your spine.

“I- I’ll look forward to it.”

Slipping one claw down her foreleg to her paw, you lift it up. Your little heart beats faster as you rub around her pads, turning her foot into an erogenous zone. You can't help yourself but to lean in and lick the smooth, sharp nails. It's impossible not to lose track of yourself and drift down to her rough, well-worn pads to worship and massage them with your claws and mouth.

A pulse runs through your cock and a splurt of pre pumps out against Gwen's thigh. You don’t want to fall behind… so you take a deep breath and even the playing field.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage (18, 20/10)
The room subtly fills with a sweet scent, the undertones of Salandit pheromone musk mixing with the already present scent of both of your arousal.

Gwen turns, rolling onto her side, and sidles back against you. Both pressed up against one another, chest to chest, your dick squishes up against her belly. Your partner licks your neck affectionately and you continue to twirl your tongue across the contours of her paw.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (17, 12/10)
You gasp and feel a build up coming. You fight to hold it back, dribbling like a faucet. Knowing you won't hold on long you at this rate you reluctantly let her paw back down and massage her exposed belly, working your way down.

You slide further down her body, down your bed of grass, burying your face in her soft underside. Dark fur is interspersed with splotches of pink skin around her nipples, and you and feel her heart beating in her chest.

Claws wander below, rubbing her inner thighs. The leg she has against the floor is wet from her dripping sex. You pull down again and rest your head on her wet thigh, face to face with her pulsing cookie. Teasing her, you draw your fingers around it, tracing it without touching it, letting your magic do the work. Her scent is powerful and heavy this close. As heavy as yours’ filling the room. Even hanging free against open air, your dick twitches and sends another puddle of pre onto the floor. You can barely manage to keep edging yourself.

The anticipation becomes too much for Gwen and she lowers the leg she has up in the air, grasping your head between her thighs. Without squeezing too hard she forces your forward, pressing your snout against her pussy. The smooth, round shape of your snout and her slickly lubricated walls have you slide right in.

You go through several stages in a few moments. Elation as you slide out your tongue and taste the deep recesses of her canal. Panic as you suddenly realize you can't breathe. Relief when you remember how freakishly wide your mouth is. You force the back edges open with difficulty, just enough to get in a gasp of warm air heavy with mixed pheromones. And acceptance as the sudden flood of hormones that follows the whole ordeal pushes you over the edge.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (4, 2/10)
Your edged cock pulses just once, barely a fraction of a second of warning before you erupt all over the hut floor. Your modest little member floods with the most powerful orgasm you've had in years, doing its utmost to reach the slanted walls of the hut above you.

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage (13, 10/10)
Your claws squeeze Gwen's ass and you dig in with your tongue, The walls of her sex squeeze and contract around your snout, the plush outer triangle and powerful thighs of grey and black fur all your eyes can see. A rush of fluids floods from inside of her and you hack and cough a little as they surge down your throat.

Hearing you, Gwen finally releases you from between her thighs and your snout comes free with a slick pop of suction. She catches the back of your head with her hindpaws as you draw back and catch your breath.

"You breathe?"

"Y-yeah."

"Keep going."

She growls it like an order. Your erection is shrinking down, but her arousal is still thick in the air. Unsatisfied with just one orgasm, she pulls you in closer again, but not right inside.

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Second Round (18, 8/12)
>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Third Round (14, 7/14)
>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Fourth Round (4, 20/16)
>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Fifth Round (2, 3/18)
You lose track of how long you've been down here working at her with your tongue. Playing with her feet, tail, and thighs with your claws. It might be hours.

Finally, after orgasm after orgasm, Gwen turns away and rolls onto her back. Her tongue is lolled out from the side of her mouth and she's still moaning and growling, foot kicking in the air. You lay where you are, stunned. You might have forgotten what anything that's not Gwen smells or tastes like. You're hungry again. The sun has gone down.

Gwen suddenly flicks her ears and sits up in a chaotic scramble. "Someone coming. We a mess." The floor and one of her flanks are covered in puddles of pre, and your cum is all over the floor and wall. Her cum is all over your face, neck and bed.

Thinking fast, you wipe off your face with your kilt from the floor. Forgetting to turn off your magic touch, you try to stuff your shrinking cock back into its slit. Instead you send an erotic tingle through your body that makes it ache in new places.

Moaning and groaning with your dick still hanging out, you struggle to slip your kilt on and lean against Gwen's side, covering her pre-stained fur with your body. You whine and pull her towards the door.

Gwen follows your direction and the two of you walk out into the open of the village. The moon and stars are out, shining down from above. Some of the huts emanate the sound of snores or the light of candles. Victor flutters and glides down, landing as soon as you open the flap. He lands next to the two of you, worry etched on his face.

"Oh my, are you up already? You still look badly hurt," the bat boy folds his wings over his chest and looks sympathetic. “I was um, flying around. Wondering if I should stop in, or… if I would just wake you up.”

You look down a your bandaged chest and nod. It hurts to keep standing, but leaning on Gwen helps. "J-just, just getting some air. Been... inside all d-day. Very smothering." You feel an almost imperceptible snort of air from Gwen's nose. Victor comes over and helps support you on your other side.

"I was just bringing some extra food," Victor pulls a bag off of his back. He holds it out and Gwen takes it in her mouth. You can smell berries from inside, of various kinds. "How is your recovery coming along?" 

No way around it now, you think. It’d be rude to turn him away or wave him off after he brought gifts like this. Reluctantly, you admit to Victor what happened. You lower your voice so hopefully nobody in nearby huts overhears. "Okay, admittedly we um, w-we got a little carried away. Things got pretty randy. It feels rude to ask you to... you know. Clean up my c-cum. But Neha could be on her way back and..."

A wing rubs up and down your back reassuringly. "Hey, relax. What are friends for, if not to turn to in moments like these? I will be quick." Carefully leaving you in Gwen's care, Victor takes wing and flies up towards the cliffside. Gwen eases you back inside.

Your bed is a goner. It was Gwen's cum that soaked it for the most part, but it reeks of her scent. Neha might question why the bed is suddenly gone, but it has to be done. "Gwen, I think... this bed has to go. Sorry."

“Oh well,” she grunts, unbothered. She leads you over to her own bed of straws and lowers you down. You lay back and all of your constant pains from moving around begin to subside, replaced with less sharp aches. Gwen gathers up the straws of the ruined bed and drags them out. You admire your handiwork. The floor is dirt so it will be easy to dig fresh soil to pack down the soiled parts

There's movement outside and your heart nearly skips a beat, but it's only Victor with a cloth and a bucket. You point out the spots on the wall where your splurts are drying up. "T-the floor should be -easy. That's all we need to wash." You try to get over there to help, but alone it proves impossible. Victor shakes his head.

"Just rest, alright? Victor has it under control."

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage, Cleaning (3, 19/8)
With remarkable speed, Victor prepares a wet washcloth and scrubs at the stretched cloth wall of the hut. You are reminded his maid costume isn't only for show. He's very good at this. As far as you can see he didn't miss a spot.

Gwen returns while he is cleaning and uses her canine talent for digging up dirt to hide the floor of shame under a fresh layer.

Fabric isn’t the only thing in need of cleaning, after all. Awkwardly coming up to the side of Gwen you painted with precum, Victor holds up the cloth. Gwen grunts and sits still for him to scrub at her side and get it cleared away. Lastly, Victor brings out a glass bottle with a spraying nozzle on the end, filled with a teal liquid. He squirts it onto the wall and around the hut, then where your bed was.

"Wh- what is that?" you sniff the air. The perfume has a tangy scent and must be berry-based much like his lubricant.

Turning, Victor swivels his ear and smiles proudly, "A little something I make from Yache berries. They are a natural anaphrodisiac. Coincidentally, also excellent at covering up the smell of sex."

Gwen walks past and sniffs the bottle, wrinkling her nose. She treads over and lays down beside you, on the side towards the wall, and takes a whiff of your scent instead. Victor giggles a little watching the two of you. His ears suddenly swivel back around and he steps outside. You can still hear his voice from inside. "Good evening, elder."

"How nice to see you, Victor. Did you come to visit your friend again?"

>Victor Charm: (20)
>Neha Intelligence: Advantage (14, 11)
"Indeed. There was something of a spill while he was eating, but I helped get it cleaned up. I will not be in your way," Victor smoothly explains away the entire situation. There is an exchange of farewells and nighty well-wishes between the two and Neha enters alone. She does not comment on the smell.

"I heard you had a spill. It's a good thing I brought fresh bandages." A pair of baskets worn over her spiral shell contains new bandages and containers of Oran salve. Her dextrous tentacles carefully undress you of your wound dressings and replace them with fresh ones for the night. The cool touch of the fresh Oran salve feels immediately soothing, and you find yourself relaxing easily. It will be much easier to sleep.

One of her stretchy blue limbs pats you on the forehead. Oh no, you’re getting those intrusive thoughts again. Images of those tentacles feeling all over you while you remain stuck and unable to resist... How old is she? With Pokemon it can be hard to tell. "That's better. Do you need anything else?" her question snaps you out of your perverse fantasies.

"Nng. No ma'am. Thanks s-so much for your help.”

Her tentacle brushes your head softly one last time, flowing smoothly over the curve. It is soft and smooth against your scales, and not too slimy. "Think nothing of it. I'm happy we have such a good soul here as our new Guildmaster." You blush in secret embarrassment, her sweetly genuine voice and caring words feel dirtied- soiled by the things you were just thinking about. You mentally slap yourself. She’s an old priestess Murdoch, get it together.

Neha slides her way out of the hut, leaving you alone once more with Gwen. She rests her head on top of your neck, nestled just above your collar. "You know, I- what do we do with the ghost, now that we caught him?" you ask, forcing your thoughts back onto business.

Gwen hums deep in her throat and you can feel the vibrations against yours'. They make your skin tingle, no magic necessary. "Nowhere here. Take to big town. They keep." A big town. If each town or village has its own guild, that means one of your rivals must be there. Part of you is curious to meet them, wondering what kind of person they are. Who could be their patron?

Even for having been in bed most of today, today was an eventful day. Enjoying the warmth of sharing Gwen's bed, and with the soothing numbness of the Oran salve making your aches disappear, you drift back to sleep.

>Murdoch has gained extra Experience from Indulging Gwen's Fetishes.
>Murdoch can learn Double Slap.
>Double Slap (Fitness): Causes minor injury. Can hit 1d4+1 times. Poor accuracy.
>Murdoch already knows four moves. Delete a move to learn Double Slap?

>Murdoch forgot Scratch
>Murdoch learned Double Slap

It is still dark when Gwen stirs. Her movement wakes you, jostling you from peaceful slumber. Your claws, folded over your chest, feel around. Your wounds feel less tender under the bandages and the dried cloths that were once soaked in salve. There’s a trembling in your claws, they feel like they could move faster than before. Vague notions of learning a new Move linger in your head like a fading dream. What is a Move, really? You were never a trainer… they feel strange. Not natural, but not unnatural.

Gwen feels you stir alongside her. Or maybe she could hear the gears turning in your head. She brushes you with her cold, wet nose. "Mm. Going exercise. Like early. Sorry to wake.” You mumble something like language, groggily acknowledging her existence. She steps over you and out of the hut into the fresh, crisp early morning air.

Try as you might, it's one of those mornings where sleep doesn't come back after the cruel touch of wakefulness banishes it from your mind. It looks like either an early morning of productivity or lying fruitlessly in bed will be in your near future. The entirety of yesterday you spent in bed, and it takes a lot of effort to pull yourself out of it. But you want to live up to Gwen… you want to not be a joke. Rolling onto your side, you feel none of the stings or aches from the day before. The wooden bottle containing your captured ghost is still where it was.

Little more. On all fours. Crawling isn’t so bad. Better than standing. You yawn, your long snout stretching wide. The first thing you do is check on your captive ghost to make sure he's still in the bottle. The wood doesn't show what's inside, but the cork Gwen used is still firmly in place and there are no cracks.

Peeling off your bandages and wraps, you find your stomach and chest free of anything other than a couple small bruises. They don't hurt a lot, just sting a little to touch.

Testing out the other half of your new powers comes to mind. Stealing things could get you a bad reputation, but maybe you can find a willing practice partner? After spending a whole day in bed your legs still feel a little weak. You decide some morning exercise with Gwen isn't such a bad idea.

Going out into the fresh early morning air, you head to the spot where you and Gwen trained for the first time. Gwen is running laps around the training area. When she comes to the edge where you are, she skids to a stop and flicks her tail. "Morning. Sorry if I wake."

You shake your head and smile. "It's alright Gwen, I c-could use some exercise. Mind if I join you?" Swinging her head to usher you into the training field, Gwen takes off again on her laps. Her powerful legs propel her at much faster speeds than you could hope to go.

You get down on all fours and fall into a lizard scamper after her. Your Salandit body isn't made for long runs, so you quickly get lapped by Gwen multiple times. Soon you are out of breath and huffing and puffing sweet-smelling but poisonous fumes. You have to take a break and sit on the sidelines while Gwen performs other exercises. She practices jumping from side to side, and what you think is a quadrupedal version of a burpee.

Your stomach growls, reminding you that exercise is hard work and needs body fuel. Thinking on the topic of food reminds you that you haven't been able to flex your baking muscles since you got here. It might be worth it while you and Gwen are in a bigger town to look for an oven to bring back with your earnings from the bounty hunt. A fresh berry pie could be a great way to thank Victor for his help last night.

Gwen comes over while you're thinking and brushes her side up against you. "I hear you. Hunger and growl. Come, will show." Curious what it might be she's going to show you, you get up and follow her. Gwen leads you all the way out of town, the same way the two of you originally came in.

"W-where are we going?"

Gwen looks back. The two of you are on the plateau above the footprint valleys now. It's no longer dark out and the sun is starting to warm up the wide-open space. "Berry grove. Get food." That sounds good to you.

Her lead takes you out over the lake near the spot you first met. The landscape flattens out in this direction, great canyons replaced with tall grass and rolling hills. The edge of the two biomes looks unnatural, like somebody laid out two different landscapes next to each other in a simulation game. Maybe it was a perfect border, at some point. Crossbreeding plants have stretched between them since, mixing into a rough thicket and creating novel hybrids.

It's among the tall grass that Gwen stops. Part of it is trimmed and cleared out to keep it short. There are a chunk of grasses missing from the edge of the clearing that doesn't match with the rest of the circle.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (17, 17/10)
This must be the spot where Gwen got food and the grass straws to make your now ruined bed. The missing patch of the clearing she tore out to put together a simple grass mat.

There are two Berry bushes growing here. A Pecha and a Chesto. They're placed just far enough to grow without draining each other’s soil, so Gwen or someone else must have planted them here. You wouldn’t exactly call a clearing with two trees a grove, but you wouldn’t quite call it a garden either. Gwen starts picking berries and dropping them into her item bag.

"Do you know where we ca- can get an- an oven?"

Gwen pauses and hums, then drops a Chesto out of her mouth and into the bag with a trail of slobber falling after it. "Oven. For cook? Bogdan make, maybe. We go Tallspire for outlaw. Will have oven. Definite." You step up and help her pick a few Berries that are high up and hard for her to reach. She lifts you up on her shoulders to get them.

With a bag full of fresh Pechas and Chestos, you start to go back to the village. You flex your claws. Still haven’t tried out using Hoopa’s fingers for their intended purpose. Why is it called fingers? He doesn’t even have fingers!

On the walk back, you slink closer to Gwen as she walks, doing your best to keep up with her alpha stride. Scampering on all fours makes it hard to reach up into her item bag, so you get up on two legs.

Gwen slows down a little to look back a you and flicks her ear, giving you a raised brow. You reach over and scratch her under the chin as a distraction. She rumbles in approval and lifts up her chin.

>Murdoch Fitness: Clumsy (7/12)
>Fingers Advantage: (16/10)
Going on two legs is starting to get tiring, so you stop scritching and drop back down. In the same motion you snag one of the Chestos from her bag and drop it under you while her head is still lifted up.

It's so fluid that your mind takes a moment to catch up to what your body just did. It almost comes as second nature when you move, and your tail scoops up the Berry behind you, wrapping around it to hold it.

>Gwen Intelligence: (9/10)
>Fingers Disadvantage: (18/10)
Gwen doesn't notice at all. Her pace picks up again as she follows a natural inclination to take the lead. You look back at the Berry you snagged. That was actually pretty easy.

"Hey, Gwen," you call out. She looks over her shoulder and you hold up the Chesto behind you with your tail. Gwen tilts her head and looks down at the item bag, at the spot where it was on top.

Her nose sniffs in bafflement. "You take? When?"

You can't help but wear a proud smirk. "I was practicing! H-hoopa's special fingers can do more than I showed you last night. I thought we might need to d-disarm outlaws or steal back something they stole." Or steal something for yourself if you really need to. A little bit of something video games taught you is to grab up whatever’s not nailed down.

"Never saw. Impressive," she praises, making you beam across your long jaw.

"I want to see how good it is at- at grabbing things someone is holding. Think we can try?"

Gwen looks down into the bag and bobs her head, plucking a Pecha out. She slows her pace so you can more easily keep up again.

>Murdoch Fitness: Clumsy (6)
>Fingers Advantage: (6)
>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (11, 4)
You manage to reach up and grab the berry in her mouth. But your three limbs still walking get tangled up in your clumsiness and you fall over yourself.

>Murdoch Luck Advantage: (19)
The force of your fall yanks the Berry out of Gwen's mouth, leaving fang marks raked across its surface and bleeding sticky, clear, sugary juice. You can hear Gwen snort out a laugh as you land in a lizardly tangle with one leaking berry in hand and another wrapped up in the end of your tail. "You funny guy."

>Murdoch Fitness: Clumsy (1)
>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (8, 15)
Gwen demonstrates that your powers do not extend to holding onto what you stole, as she bends down and effortlessly plucks the Pecha from your tiny claw, chomping into it. "Waste juice," She chastens you half-seriously, licking her chops after she's swallowed. You untangle yourself and get up, setting the Chesto back in the item bag.

"H-heh. Maybe I should practice walking first."

Aside from your antics, the trip back is uneventful. With the village below down the cliffside trail you make a suggestion, "Why d-don't we go eat breakfast with Victor? That was we can discuss our next move as... as a team."

Without any complaint, Gwen heads straight for the village library instead of back home to the hut. The two of you see a small trail of smoke coming out from inside. At first you start to worry and scamper ahead to check on him, but when you peek inside you only see Victor yawning and stirring a small bowl over a fire pit.

His eyes are still closed from yawning, but his satellite ears track you- well, one does. The other tracks Gwen just behind you. They blink open and he rubs away a little moisture from the edges. "Ah, Murdoch. Glad to see you on your feet again, my friend. And Gwen is here as well, hello."

The Poochyena saunters around past you and walks up to Victor, sniffing the bowl. "Chesto."

Victor nods, his great big ears bobbing up and down. "I've been trying to adjust myself to a diurnal sleep schedule. That is, sleeping at night like most do. I will be of no use if I'm asleep when you two are at work.

You sit down next to the small fire Victor has going, closer to the flame than you probably would have as a human. The ambient heat radiating from it feels divine. In fact, you lean down and lift your chin to let it soak into your neck and underside, where the sun’s glow often neglects. Breathing out a contented sign, you look over at your pal. "T-thanks, Victor. That's really thoughtful. I hope you're still taking naps and taking c-care of yourself."

Holding up a wing to conceal a yawn, Victor spoons a little of his mixture into a small stone cup and sets it to the side to cool. "I'll be certain to get enough rest. Speaking of rest, how are you feeling?"

"Great!" you lift up one of your noodley limbs and flex it for emphasis. Gwen chuckles at the sight and Victor cracks a smile. "I noticed you make a lot of stuff out of b-berries. Do you do any baking?"

Victor looks down at the bowl as he takes it carefully off of the fire. "Not particularly, though I've dabbled from time to time. I'm better at mixing up drinks. Teas, blended juices, that sort of thing." Like his little secret recipe he gave you. You shoot a look at Gwen's item bag out of the corner of your eye, where the jar of Leppa lube is nestled, then back at Victor. You give him a knowing wink, which he returns after a tiny pause.

"I l-like cooking, but baking for sure is my best. I'm hoping they have an oven I c-can get somewhere in Tallspire."

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (15, 7)
>Victor Charm: (13)
The mention of the bigger town dims Victor's mood. It's almost imperceptible. If you hadn't been looking at his face you would have missed it, but his smile flickers away. The bat boy quickly puts it back on and looks down at the fire. "I have no oven I'm afraid. There are a few skewers we could use to roast Berries over the fire. Roasted Pecha are fantastic when the sugar caramelizes."

"Sound good," Gwen eagerly withdraws a few Pechas out of the bag. Victor scoots over and tries to fish one out for himself that doesn't have Gwen's drool on it. You feel a little sense of dramatic irony since you know most of them she picked with her mouth anyways. Whatever helps him feel better.

"You nervous about p-putting Gwen's B-berries in your mouth? If it makes you feel better, I'd... I'd put your Berries in my mouth any day." With a subtle lick of your snout, you give him an innocent smile as his ears flush darker colors. Victor finally picks out a satisfactory Berry and goes to get some wooden skewers from a box. His butt sticks up as he bends down to gather them and you give him an ogle.

He'd deftly changed the subject, but it was far from lost on you. Something’s bothering him, and it was clear what triggered it. "I'm excited to see what a b-big city looks like in your world," you gently try to steer the conversation back towards the city. Victor passes out the skewers. Gwen awkwardly tries to take one with her mouth and you reach over, offering to handle it for her. Gwen shakes her head and insists on doing it herself, clasping the skewer tightly.

"There were few nice things you had to say about the cities in your world, as I recall," Victor slides a Pecha onto the end of Gwen's skewer and she turns to the side to hold it over the little fire. You and Victor put on your own and begin roasting the berries on the ends.

"All c-concrete and metal. Lots of smog from b-burning fuel."

"I guarantee there is nothing of the sort here. I'm sure you gathered as much from the name, but Tallspire is named for its tall and impressive stone buildings." Victor holds the skewer between his wingtips, handling the base with his feet for better dexterity. His gaze is distant for a moment. "A previous winner of the guild competition is responsible for raising the town up from nothing."

"T-the city seems to get you down."

The bat is quiet, until he draws his Berry back. The exterior is darkened and he carefully takes a bite of the warm fruit-flesh. Dribbles of sticky sugary caramelized juice run down the sides of his face, and he quickly dabs at them with a cloth self-consciously. Ot just to excuse himself from speaking a little longer.

Taking the pause of silence, you draw your Berry back as well and feel the surface with your claw. It's heated by the fire, the sugars inside will be woken up and transformed into a sticky caramel.

After finishing his first bite, Victor finally answers the implied question, "I used to live there. It's a nice place. A lot of Pokemon, all different kinds. There was... there were some people there that I knew, who I no longer get along with. I moved out here to get away from everything." For a moment it looks like he's going to continue, but he stops and takes another bite of his berry instead.

You decide to leave it there rather than press a sensitive topic further. Now you know the gist, at least. It soothes the worries in the back of your mind. Glancing over at Gwen to see how she's doing, you see her paying attention to you and Victor and forgetting her Berry. It's caught fire over the small fire pit.

"Oh, G-gwen!" Gwen looks and finally sees the fire. Her eyes go wide and her ears peel back. Victor quickly waves a wing.

"Don't panic! If you start waving it around you may hit the books!"

Gwen growls and gives up on the Berry, setting it down in the fire to let it burn. She lets go of it from in her mouth. "Distracted. My fault." She looks disappointedly at the burnt-up Pecha Looking down at your own Berry, you reach out and pick up the skewer Gwen left on the ground and lift the Berry out of the fire. It's charred and burnt, with a few embers that linger as you remove it from the pit. Gwen shakes her head,

With one claw you slide the burnt Berry off of the stick. It lands on the cave floor and the embers soon flicker out. When you pick up your own, Gwen shakes her head. “No have to.” But you keep going anyways. In place of the burnt one, you slide your own cooked Pecha onto the stick and offer that end to Gwen.

Gwen looks bashful for once. "Mm. Thank, Murdoch. Am not good at... ask for help." She leans in to the skewer and tries a bite of the Pecha you hold out for her, closing her eyes and savoring the taste. Victor looks at you and mirrors her smile.

"You are a good human, Murdoch. Whatever Hoopa may have said, I want us to win this thing."

Gwen is happily enjoying her treat and it seems to have indirectly cheered Victor up, dispelling the bad thoughts he had lingered on. "I, actually am hoping to see some of my c-competition while I'm there. See who they are. Ap-part from that, is there anywhere you recommend going?" you wonder aloud.

Victor thinks on the question and scratches his chest fluff. "Well, it's not my magnificent collection..." he looks to his humble cave bookshelves and speaks with a sarcastic tone. "But they have a reasonably stocked library. There is also a place you may enjoy founded by companions of one of the previous contestants. He introduced them to a food called pizza, which they now make."

While you nod along, you adjust the skewer’s position to better hold it for Gwen and shift into a cross-legged hunch with your tail stretched out behind you. The cave floor is cool on your ass. "A-are we sure there's actually another team there?” you ask. “Actually, h-how big is the world? Are there other continents?

"There will definitely be a Guild in Tallspire. It's the biggest town in the known world. However they decide who starts where, the person who picked first definitely picked Tallspire," Victor looks out past the cave exit and over the valley village. "Hoopa must have really drawn the short straw. We're one of the most out of the way places and certainly the smallest. And about other continents... He raises his shoulders in a helpless shrug "Nobody knows. Anyone who sails too far away just winds up running aground on aquatic Mystery Dungeons in a thick fog. Some of the most dangerous and powerful Empties are out there. Being the first Guild in a contest to explore one successfully is a quick ticket to fame, but...”

The bat flicks his eyes between you and Gwen, then down at himself. He giggles and swivels his ears around, admitting, "We would not last five minutes as we are. Even Gwen."

She swallows her current mouthful and licks the sticky goo from her mouth. “Maybe,” she says cryptically.

With conversation winding down and Gwen’s polished off, you get yourself a new Berry and catch up to the other two digging into it. You even try a little nibble of the burnt remains of Gwen’s, which tastes chalky yet leaves an oddly pleasing warmth in your stomach. You enjoy a quiet meal with your two new friends. Not just friends, but partners

After finishing, Victor sees you and Gwen out. "Sorry I can't come with you. There are just... too many bad memories in that place. But if you need to ask me anything, anything at all, you just have to think of me. I know I'll be thinking of you.” He surprises you by moving closer and wrapping you in a hug with his wings. Gwen moves closer and butts her head against his left wing

"Am not invited?” she asks with mild hurt. Victor giggles and reaches around to pull her into a group hug as well

"Be safe you two."

The hug breaks and you and Gwen step away to climb back down from the cliffside. The ghost's bottle is still back home to grab before you set out for Tallspire. There are extra Pechas and Chestos for food in the bag.

When you and Gwen stop off at the hut to pick up the bottle, you note the books on the floor and realize that Victor's books and manuscripts will just be sitting in Gwen's hut the whole time you're gone. If there's heavy rain they might get damaged.

"I'm g-going to return these before we go," you tell Gwen. Holding the books carefully, you start to waddle your way back. There's no way to put them in the bag without squishing all the Berries, so Gwen just follows along as you go at a painfully slow pace. You’d meant to run back up and then come back together-

"S-say uh, why don't you go see if Amor has any um, s-supplies or rope? I might take a while so I'll meet you there."

Gwen looks up at the cliffside trail and nods. She pulls ahead with a quick word back, "Walk careful. No need to nurse you again from fall." You had no intention of doing otherwise.

Along the way you pass by the Tyrunt you saw on the first day here. He's not doing any stonecarving at the moment, instead washing his face at one of the small streams that run through the village. The dinosaur looks up when you go by and snickers at your awkward waddle. "Hey kid, you need a hand?" with a gravelly voice, he stomps up to you near the base of the trail. Your eyes drift down to the stubby arms dangling at his chest. His eyes follow yours' down, twisting his head to flex and admire his fingers. "What, think I can't carry anything cause of these?"

Abruptly, the Tyrunt moves in and shoves his head under your arms, lifting you up. You find yourself suspended, hanging from either side of his head as he holds you up proudly. It's far from a comfortable position with all the ridges and horns on his skull.

"W-whoa! Hey, put me down!"

Laughing a deep belly laugh, the kind that jostles and bounces you, he leans forwards and sends you tumbling back to the ground. "Well? How about you plop those books on my noggin? Or would you rather go to waddling around like a Delibird?

It’s hard to refuse him after that display of dominance. You carefully balance the books on his head, as he leans down for you to do so. He stands back up with ease and surprising balance. Those massive, powerful talons must do a good job of anchoring him

"T-t-thanks. Er, I'm Murdoch b-by the way," you get back down on all fours, a position that's getting more natural for you by the day. With the Tyrunt beside you, you head back up the trail

"I heard of you from Amor. The new Guildmaster. Can't say you make a strong first impression kid, but I'd be a fool to judge a book by its looks," he pointedly flexes his little stub arms again with a deep, bass chuckle. The two of you turn into the mouth of Victor's library, where he seems surprised to see you back so soon

"Back so soon, Murdoch? Ah, with the books. Good morning Bogdan.

"You're up early tonight, ceiling flower!” Bogdan bumps Victor with his hip, knocking the bat onto his butt. The dino drops the books off of his head into the return box. "There you go, Murry," he says, swaying closer and bumping you. You were ready after watching him topple Victor, and steady yourself. Hearing him call you that makes you flush with strange and awkward memories.

"Thanks a- again,” you meekly respond.

The dino's large mouth cracks into a toothy grin. "No problem, it was an easy job. Name's Bogdan, look me up if you and Gwen need any houseware." Without much more fanfare he struts out, striding down the trail to the base of the cliffside. You hear Victor shuffle back to his feet and turn to face him

"I had forgotten entirely about the books, actually. Thank you for returning them," he flaps over to the cave entrance and looks out, watching Bogdan go. He adopts a quieter voice, "Just look at those legs. Those things could plow you into the floor.” You recognize the blush in his ears easily. The bat shakes his head as if shaking loose those distracting thoughts. "But you have more important things to take care of than talk with me about cute fossil guys, hm?" 

You pat Victor on the back and run a finger up his spine, letting it send a tingle through his body. The bat squeaks a little in response. "Y-yes. I do. But we can talk another time. And," you add, “Feel free to k-keep picturing me getting plowed into the floor.

Victor waves, sheepishly covering his lower regions with his other wing as you head up to the trading post, which isn't far.

Inside, you can hear Gwen and Amor talking. "Okay girl, there's everything for you. I wrapped up the bread in some cloth to keep it fresh longer~"

"Thank, Amor." There's a rustle of cloth and material as Gwen shuffles something into the item bag.

"So Gwennie-bean, how's things with Murdoch? You two sharing a bed yet? Oh don't give me that look, you know how Salandits are~"

"Is fine. He good. Bed... broke. So we share now."

Amor's shrill, girly laugh resounds from inside. You can hear Gwen's lighter, less serious growl of a laugh beneath it. "Broke the bed? How do you break a straw bed? Girl no wonder he's been in recovery for a day!”

You slip inside and approach. Amor sees you coming and winks, "There's the guy himself."

The two of them aren't alone this time. There's a third Pokemon in the room, a Pelipper with webbed feet wrapped around a wooden avian perch on the counter. She must be the Pelipper from the sign outside. She greets you with a drawl, "Aw honey, nice to finally meet you. Amor been telling me all about you and your new Guild, big strong bounty hunters hm? I'm Anan."

Gwen is in the midst of transferring another Oran, some rope, and a cloth-wrapped loaf of bread into the item bag. She looks up as you come in. "You fast… With books." Amor catches her slip of the tongue and her rather un-poetic verbal sidestep, wearing a perverted smirk.

"I- I've been the way Salandit are for m-much longer than I've been a Salandit," you furtively slide up next to Gwen at the counter, gravitating closer to her. It's been a long time since you've been around so many people at once, let alone a group of ladies. “Just um, n-never so s-successful at it.”

"Is that so, Murdoch? I never would have guessed you were so spicy," Amor slyly drawls. “Would you say you were abnormally spicy for a human?”

You shift your gaze away from meeting her eye and introduce yourself to her partner. "I'm Murdoch, the Guild guy. T-that's me. Not sure if bounty hunting is for me yet, er- not that it means the Guild can't do that or, well. I'm just a better lover than a f-fighter, ahaha." Truth be told you aren't too confident in either of those two things. The two trading post girls giggle with each other, giving you leering eyes.

"Is that so? Hey Gwen~" Amor wiggles behind the counter, her fluffy pigtails bouncing back and forth. "What would you say Murdoch's best qualities are?"

Seeming to take the question totally at face value, Gwen hums in her throat and sits down. She shoots you an appraising glance. "He crazy. Fight crazy sly like Nickit. Better than he think."

Amor looks a little disappointed at the lack of a saucy answer. She just shakes her head and laughs to herself. "Never change, Gwen.”

“So where you two headed?" This time Anan speaks up. You pat the item bag hanging in front of Gwen.

"Delivering an outlaw t-to Tallspire."

"Well ain't that a lucky thing. I'm just headed to Tallspire myself. If you want I could save you the trip." You look down at the bag and then back up at Anan. There were some things you wanted to see and do in Tallspire. Sending in crooks by delivery might not help your reputation much either. On the other hand, saving time could mean being able to catch that other outlaw, or... something else.

Hoping for some guidance, you turn to Gwen and ask her, "If we sent him with h- with Anan, we could go look for t-that Morgrem. Catching m-multiple outlaws back to back would be good for our reputation. Er, right?"

Gwen stands and paces, circling around behind you, "Yes. Be good. Find before he run too far."

"Now I don't mean to barge in," interjecting into the discussion, Anan flaps one of her wings, lightly fanning you to draw your attention back to her. "That other outlaw fella, he was coming from Tallspire headed this way. Might be you two could run into him on the way."

"If he win, free other. Could trouble," Gwen shakes her item bag a little, shaking the captured ghost inside. "Two outlaw together."

"Hey, it's already two on one. Don't go selling yourselves short~" Amor chimes supportively. Anan pulls on a carry satchel and hops from her perch. She glides smoothly out the exit, before circling around and landing facing inwards from the edge of the cliff outside.

"If you're worried about it, I'm happy to take the little bastard anyhow. No reason we can't both get going to Tallspire."

You decide that sounds like the best idea. Slipping a claw into the item bag, you slide the wooden bottle out. With your magic fingers you don't even disturb any of the other items inside, or spill berries on the floor.

Taking it over to Anan, she opens the flap of her delivery bag for you and you slip it inside. She has letters inside in envelopes, and some small packages you can't make out the markings on. If you wanted to it would be easy to just grab one while you have access. A little intrusive thought niggles at you to peep, but- no. Sating curiosity isn’t worth being a skeev. Resisting the temptation to experiment with your new powers, you set the bottle nestled in with the rest of the mail and step back, allowing her to close it. You reach up and pat her on the wing, sending a rush of your power through your fingers.

Anan's eyes flutter a bit as, to her, it seems like sparks fly naturally. She gives you a little lustful leer and turns to take off again "Well good luck on the trail you two. Might just see you on my way back.” She bends down just before she takes off, giving you a brief view of the subtle vent beneath her tail feathers, and then she's off. Gwen comes out behind you, brushing her tail along your back as she passes and giving you a knowing look.

She doesn’t mind the playful flirting, but that tail running over you was definitely intended to convey that you’re her partner.

With one last look back at Amor in the trading post, you offer her a wave. She lifts one of her hooves and waggles it up and down, waving you off as you go. Supplies are packed, berries are stocked, and you feel good. You fall in step behind Gwen, enjoying the view and trusting she knows where she's going as she leads you out of town.

On the road to Tallspire- the scenic route.

Chapter Text

Traversing the coiled paths up the village cliffside comes easier each time. For the second time today, you trail behind Gwen as she takes the lead out onto the plateau. Rough, scratchy mountain grass brushes against your sides. It would have left red trails on your skin as a human, but the coarse nettles running across your scales doesn’t feel too bad. Kind of nice, even.

Gwen is in the lead. That’s fine with you, since she knows where you’re going, and you… don’t. And any excuse to lurk around her tail is welcome. Firm muscles sculpt a statuesque figure in her back legs, and you catch fleeting glimpses of her pawpads as she walks. It’s hard to blame all the staring on your lizard brain, but it feels like less of a guilty pleasure now. Still hard to believe she reciprocated anything. As always, there’s self-doubt the creeps in, intrusive thoughts asking if this is really deserved. Opening your mouth, one of those uncertainties hangs on the tip of your tongue.

"Hey um, G- Gwen?” you mutter. Her ear flicks, but her eyes hold to the front as she forges ahead. Every now and then she leans down to sniff at the ground as if looking for scents. “Is it wrong t-to mess with people wi-with my magic fingers? It's just r-really fun. But um, I uh- are you, d-does it seem sleazy or uh, wrong to you?"

"Not bother. Hoopa joke, think make him happy. You ‘mess with’ them. Long as no steal, from good people."

"Okay, g-good. I didn't want to bother you with it."

The terrain changes, none too subtly. Rough mountain grass gives away to tall stalks rising on either side, something you’re more familiar with in the rural places just out of the city. Not far enough from human civilization to be called wild, but untended enough that the grass grows to its full height. It’s like someone laid down a line in the sand, and on one side is grass and on the other are barrens. You slink along, her tail sways to the side and keeps the grasses from bounding back to smack you in the face after she's parted them. Instead they lightly smack against your sides.

Sniffing at the air out of habit, you make some small work-talk. "D-do you think this outlaw is hiding in a dungeon too?"

"Many small dungeon. Hidden in grass field. I tell if we close. Smell outside for Morgrem." So not all dungeons are in caves.

"You can tell if w-we get close to a dungeon?" Gwen grunts affirmatively, not elaborating on it. You quietly continue following her trail. The sun is high in the sky at its midday apex when the grass starts to thin. At first you marvel that the journey was so fast, but Gwen leads you to the top of a hill, the sharp incline free of the surrounding acres of green.

The two of you have a clear view into the distance, all around. As clear as the swaying grass allows. You can see other hills, identical humps emerging from the ocean of green at regular intervals, as if put there intentionally. Some have signs on them, but yours' does not. Far off on the horizon you can see two different tall buildings. One looks like a stone castle tower, while the other is closer and looks like a windmill.

"I-is that the tall spire of Tallspire?" you tap Gwen's shoulder and point towards the stone tower in the distance. She follows your finger and nods.

"That where we go. Other village there," she extends a paw towards the windmill. It's out of the direct path to Tallspire, but closer to where you are now. "Should have Guild."

To your right, the field of grass changes, giving way to the bright yellow rings and dark cores of a sunflower field. Gwen turns her head towards the rippling bouquet reflecting daylight back into the sky. She sniffs the air. "Flowers is dungeon. We can circle, smell for Morgrem."

>Gwen Intelligence: Skill (16/8)

A wind starts to blow and Gwen holds up her head, catching a scent. Her head turns away from the sunflower field and her ears swivel. She sniffs again. Then she starts to step down from the steep hill, looking back at you. "Smell someone. Come." Without any other leads, you fall into step behind her. Gwen pushes through the grass, following her nose onto someone's trail. Abruptly, Gwen bumps into someone else coming in the opposite direction through the grass, pushing her back. Her butt presses back against your face and your vision is obscured by grey fur.

"Lookie who it is," you hear a chipper voice with an edge of mischief to it. Gwen pulls herself off of you and steps to the side, pushing down some grass in the process which clears your view. Ahead you can see a smirking Chimchar. She must be the one Gwen bumped into. Gwen is giving her a standoffish look.

Setting her feet apart, Gren bares her teeth and emits a low growl. Territorial, a warning to stay back. "Thought I smell you."

"Don’t look so surprised. If you're out here, you should know why I'm out here," the simian puts a hand to her chest and looks past Gwen to see you. "Well, well, well. I didn't know you had company too. You sure you can handle working with someone else?"

"Too?" Gwen grunts, tilting her head. The Chimchar steps aside, revealing an Espurr trying to look small and shrink behind her. Upon being revealed, the cat pulls a clump of some grass in front of her as ineffective concealment.

You wave to the Espurr, who looks away into the distance and pretends not to have seen you. Chances are you won't get much out of her, so you introduce yourself to the Chimchar instead. "H-hey there, I'm Murdoch. Do you a- you and Gwen know each other from bounty hunting?" An apish grin curls across her face.

"Wow, Gwen. Yours' can talk. Not very well, but he can talk. Did you teach him that?"

Gwen growls at her. She turns her head only slightly, keeping the mocking chimp in view and with her ears alert. "This Spring. She annoying."

"You wound me, Gwen," Spring leans back, scrunching up her face in mock offense.

"Am about to."

"A quick tussle? I'm game!" Hopping a few feet backwards, Spring bounces from the ball of one foot to the other, making mock boxing motions at Gwen. Gwen braces her legs, preparing for a lunge. Their standoff is interrupted by a buzzing noise. A tiny Cutiefly zips into the patch of grass, spinning around and landing on the Espurr's head. His voice is tiny, but exuberant.

"I found him! The fugitive went running into the flowers when he saw me!" Flickering from playful to frustrated, Spring shoots a sharp eyed look at the fly and bares her surprisingly sharp-looking fangs.

"Good going rookie. You just told the competition where to go," shifting gears back into a wily pout, she regards you and Gwen. "But since the game's evened up now, how about we do something more interesting than a little tussle. After all, we tucker each other out and that thief could get away." Gwen stares her down, slowly shifting back into a less aggressive, but guarded stance. She snorts and twitches her head, urging her rival to spit it out. Spring nods and her grin returns. "You and me go after the troublesome little imp together, Gwen. Just the two of us. And whoever can deal the knockout blow gets to have the other's partner as a slave for a day. What do you say?" The monkey strides forwards and reaches out, pulling her arm back when Gwen snaps at it. "Tsk, tsk. Bad girl, Gwen, that's not how you shake a paw."

"You can't just bet Larissa like that!" The Cutiefly protests from atop the Espurr's head. Her eyes are pointed down to the ground at her feet. Spring looks back at them with a sneer.

Swinging around, Spring lifts her chin smugly. "Oh sorry. I was under the impression little miss wet noodle wanted help winning the Guild Contest. Or has that changed? I can turn around and go home."

The Espurr finally speaks, clearing her throat and nearly whispering, "No... don't go. I... want to win. I'll do it..."

Gwen looks back at you uncertainly. You can tell by her face that she really wants to show up this snide monkey. "Up to you. You, one at stake." There’s little doubt that you’re facing the greater risk in this arrangement. Hard to imagine Gwen being tough on that shy little cat. But a part of you wouldn’t necessarily mind either. A generous estimate puts it on the lizard, but deep down you know that you click with him all too well.

"Absolutely. L-let's do it. But she, er, w-we need a minute to strategize," you place a claw on Gwen's shoulder and gently tug her away to the side.

"Just don't take too long. If I get bored, I might just go for him myself," tapping her foot, Spring stands watching the two of you through the grass, while you lead Gwen out of earshot.

Folding your claws together, you swish your tail against the bases of the grass stalks behind you. "Okay. If, if all you have to do is be the one to knock him out, you j-just, your Howl move makes it easy to hit him hard right? So you just let her soften him up and then get a big hit. Oh, a-and Morgrem won't be bothered by your Bite move."

Gwen listens carefully to the gameplan. Satisfaction pulls at the edge of her mouth and she nods. "She try things. I will be ready. Hit fast, hit hard."

With an encouraging scratch behind the ear, you reassure her of your confidence, "I know you will. I have c-complete faith in you. B-by the way, where I come from, they call m-masturbating spanking the monkey." Gwen's hear flicks to the side and she gets a confused look. Even so, she gives you a thankful lick with her tongue. “Just ah, thought it might be funny. With Spring, a-and all.”

"You strange."

Gwen marches back towards Spring, purposefully. She lifts her head up, trying to appear taller before the bipedal Pokemon. "We do this. We ready."

"Great. Follow me," Spring turns and walks away into the grass. Gwen looks back at you with one last nod and follows her. That leaves you all alone with Larissa and her Cutiefly friend. You awkwardly wave a second time, even though it got no response the first time.

"Hey. Y-you might have missed it, my name's Murdoch." Larissa looks you in the eye with her big, inexpressive discs, then back at the ground. The bug buzzes over and lands on a stalk of grass next to you, where he doesn't have to shout to be heard. It barely droops under his minuscule weight.

"You heard before but this is Larissa. She isn't very good with people. I'm Michael, her partner. Nice to meet you!” On his perch, Michael preens himself, smoothing out any fluffed up patches of fuzz on his body.

W-what should we do while they're in there?"

Michael lifts off above the grass and turns, looking around. "Why don't we go to one of the hills so we can see when they're on the way back?" The three of you, with Michael leading the way, go back to the nearby hill where you and Gwen picked up their trail. Larissa takes a seat at the bottom of the hill, pulling up her legs in front of her. Michael lands on top of your head, making it hard to see him. "Sorry about our... friend. I'm not the best at fighting and Larissa, well." He looks down at her at the bottom of the hill as if that says it all. 

With Michael sitting atop your head, you climb up the slope and sit at the apex. It actually feels really nice to bask in the sun up here in the open. Even if you aren't coldblooded like dragons, this is a great way to relax. "Let me see if I c-can guess. Larissa is the h-human, Spring is the original p-partner, and you joined them later?" you wonder, trying to piece together their dynamic.

"Not quite." Still comfortable just above your broew, Michael explains their different roles. "Larissa is the human obviously. But I was the one she got matched up with by..." He starts to share who their patron is, but stops. Must have realized he's talking to the competition. "I guess you'll find out eventually. We asked Spring to help us with some things, we needed muscle if we were going to make a real name for ourselves. I tell you, she is a real character."

"Larissa d-doesn't seem to like talking."

"She's not what you'd call a talker, no. As I understand it, she was something called a shut-in back in her world."

Curiosity strikes as you jabber along making small talk. Feeling a buzz of mischief curling th edges of your jaw, you reach up. One clawed finger prods Michael in the side, and you allow Hoopa’s power to flow through. He practically spasms on top of your head. "Whoa, hey, what did you do?"

You don't answer just yet, coyly shifting the topic away, "You two realize there are other w-ways to w-win than bounty hunting right?"

After the strange, pleasurable touch from your claw, Michael buzzes off of your head and lands just out of reach to face you. His little eyes flicker in the light in a variety of shapes. "There's other things to get famous for, sure. But there's a lot of cultural expectations on Guilds too. Our special cards make us the best ones to rescue people or catch bad guys in Dungeons. Like, ah, the fugitive."

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (9, 19)
>Michael Charm: Advantage (10, 15)
It sounded like he was going to say something else before he went to calling the Morgrem just a fugitive. You don’t press the subject immediately,

Folding your claws underneath your head, you look out over the grass fields. You can still make out some motion rustling through the grass, moving away towards the sunflowers. "And w-what about you an- and Larissa?"

"What about us?" Michael leans forward on the smaller tuft of hill grass he’s settled on. You make an elbowing motion in his direction since he's too small to do it properly, not to mention wary of your touch. You accentuate with a wink.

"You know. Are you two... y-you know?"

Michael's eyes flutter and then he shakes his head, buzzing his wings for emphasis. "No, no, nothing like that. She's distant even with me. Besides, I'm really not that into girls." Sitting and waiting has you a little restless. Another curious look draws your eyes towards the sunflower field, wondering if it would be okay to just go get some seeds. It’s just a little craving, having them so close in view. Or even follow the other two and watch the competition. Spring never said anything about going alone, just catching the fugitive on their own.

"Is it safe t-to get s-seeds from the sunflowers?"

Narrowing his eyes, Michael follows your gaze towards the flowers. "We could wind up pulled into the dungeon if we go into the field. I'd rather not if it's all the same for you." Maybe he’s right. Not so worth chancing a dungeon crawl on your own.

Picking at your brain for some more questions to pass the time, you wonder, "W-was your first mission just you two, or, h-how did you come to recruit Spring?" With one of his small legs Michael rubs at a bit of fluff on the side of his head, leaving it sticking up in a cowlick.

"It was actually by accident. The two of us are both artists, see. We were looking for a good place for Larissa to practice drawing, away from people. We wound up falling into a dungeon."

You chuckle at the idea of them literally stumbling into a dungeon. "So your first dungeon w-w-was totally by accident?"

"Mhm." Michael nods. He notices the tuft of fluff sticking up. Licking his leg with a tongue so small you can barely make out its flickering motion, he smooths out the imperfecction. "That's where we met Spring. She was in the middle of tracking down an outlaw. In the end she agreed to be our guard while we travel in exchange for Guild support with her bounties and rescues. We can't win the contest if we're stuck in just one village, and supporting bounty hunting would improve our reputation." Spring sounds like she'd be a very demanding mistress even for just a day. At the same time, she does rescues too, maybe she's not that bad?

Your claws lay across each other in front of you. Looking down at the fine dorsal scales of your paw, you run a claw over them, picking at bits of dirt and flicking them into the grass. "D-do you know Spring very well? If, well, if we lose how sad- sadistic a fate can I expect?"

A swaying of Michael’s head from side to side brings the blade of grass he’s on with it. "She seemed to really have it in for your partner. Are you two an item?" The question puts you off guard. Things got steamy with Gwen, but does she think it's an exclusive thing? You've been with Victor too.

"I- I'm not sure?"

"Well, I don't know her well.” Michael grabs onto another nearby blade of grass, forming a more stable arch between them. “I do know some mean girls like her. She probably thinks you're a way to get back at ah, actually I'm not sure I caught your partner's name?"

"Gwen." You’d hate to see Gwen get her feelings hurt because of a dumb bet.

Thinking about Victor gets you an idea. Maybe you would have better luck talking to Larissa telepathically instead of face to face. Laying your head down on your claws and closing your eyes, you picture Victor in your mind's eye. You can feel the image become clearer.

Your image of Victor becomes animated, tilting his head and blinking his big saucer eyes. ~Mur...doch? Murdoch c...n you hear me?~ his mouth moves out of sync with the words, and Victor's voice fades in as if from far away- but getting closer.

You try to think back at him. Uncertainty bleeds into your train of thought, making you stutter even in your mind. ~I t-think so.~ It's strange. You feel a presence closeby, but when you reach out a claw nobody is there. You might look ridiculous to Michael reaching out at nothing so you disguise it as a stretch.

Sparks of happiness dance across the thoughtscape, encircling the image of the bat boy like a fancy picture frame. Victor is happy to hear from you. The mental image of Victor smiles, then he clears his throat and tries to put on a professional tone, ~Are you in trouble? You don't feel panicked. In fact you feel... Horny. Are you always horny?~ Waves of playfulness wash over your consciousness, like lying on the beach with a friend.

~M-may- er- kinda yeah.~ You can imagine his squeaking giggle perfectly in your mind as the image of him holds a wing up to his mouth.

~That answers one question. Do you need me to look something up?~

Opening one eye, you peer down over the ledge at Larissa. To your surprise she was looking up at you from behind her ear, but quickly turns away to hide her eye. ~The- there's another psychic here. She's v-very shy. Is it possible to do a t-threeway- er, that is, t-telepathically. Talking.~

A momentary pause.

~I can feel a presence near you. She seems potent. If you were able to establish physical contact, I could reach her through you.~

Fidgeting in place, you grimace at the ground between your legs. ~T-that might not be easy, Victor.~ It sounds like trying to touch Larissa without her permission would just start trouble. Some scenarios play out in your mind to pass it off as a game or a joke, but none of them seem very sane and they’d just upset her all the same. Letting out a sigh, you push the matter aside and tell Victor a little more of the situation, ~By the way, Gwen an- and I made a b-bet with a rival Guild. She went to c-catch the outlaw with another b-bounty hunter and, whoever wins gets the other's human as a s-slave for a day.~

Victor's flush can be felt through the connection, like a warmth behind your own cheeks. ~And what sort of slave might they be meaning? Is the other bounty hunter cute?~

~W-well I don't really know. She’s a Chimchar,~ her primate fangs had a certain appeal, but- ~B-but she's k-kind of an ass. I think she and Gwen hate each other.~

The bat boy's excitement deflates at the word of her disposition. ~Then I do hope she doesn't force you to do anything too humiliating.~

When it comes to getting Victor connected to Larissa, you start to feel like honesty is the best policy. At least if she says no, there won’t be any confrontation over it. You crawl over to the side of the hill and look over the edge where she is sitting, still avoiding your gaze. "H-hey Larissa! I have a friend with t-telepathy who you might like to talk to. He likes b-books, and indoors." She doesn't respond at all, not even looking your way. The lack of any sort of feedback is discouraging, but you keep trying. "He uh, he says we just need s- t- a bit of contact to make the connection." Again, more silence from Larissa. Michael marches over from where he was waiting, plodding between blades of grass, and prods you in the side of the leg.

"You'd better not try whatever that was you did with me. I might not be very big, but I can still bite you." You look back and wave him off.

"It d-doesn't need to be me. I could just, I d-don't know. Uh. Hide in the grass and she can- can poke my t-tail?" Again you turn to look at Larissa. She's moved from the last time you saw her, playing with her paws in her lap. Getting some kind of reaction lightens your heart, you wait to see what she does. Larissa peeks up from behind her ear and then quickly looks away.

Her voice is wispy and quiet. "Okay..." That sounds like all you're going to get. Michael is still watching you suspiciously, protective of his shy companion. Taking care not to tumble down the hill and right into her, you slide down a comfortable ways away and circle around in the grass. Her eyes are downcast.

Turning around, you back up so that just your tail is poking out of the grass and the rest of you is hidden. You have to sit there for another minute before Larissa works up the courage to reach out and prod you with a toe.

>Victor Will: Advantage (19, 15/10)
You can feel Victor straining and it's a little bit like someone stretching to reach past you at a table. His presence gets closer, pushing against you awkwardly from one side. A connection opens and you are bombarded with a flood of fear and uncertainty. Larissa's presence in the mindscape is both massive and radiating her insecurities. Being pressed between them is claustrophobic, and a little sweaty.

>Murdoch Will: (13/10)
>Victor Will: Advantage (6, 18/10)
With a struggle you are able to regain enough composure not to spaz out in your real body and yank away by accident. Victor has to practically shout to be heard over her interference. His voice fights the loud tide of her intrusive thoughts, bleeding together into a stifling white noise. ~This... very... calm down...~

>Larissa Will: Disadvantage (16, 10/10)
Struggling to get a hold of herself, Larissa pulls inwards. The psychic equivalent to balling up behind her knees. The static and waves of anxiety washing over you die down to a background hum of discomfort. ~I... I'm sorry. I should just go.~ Her mental voice is muffled and held back.

You hang back the best you can and let Victor have the first word. Your bat boy starts to come through clearly again. ~Not a worry at all, everyone is fine. My name is Victor, a friend of Murdoch.~

Larissa's hesitance fizzes and vibrates in the air. She peers out from a mental fortress of solitude. ~L... Larissa.~

~I-I've never been a conduit before,~ trying to create a sensation of nervous laughter, you disarm Larissa's fear with some of your own insecurity. Surely if she sees you're just as nervous it will help. Hopefully nothing terrible happened to her...

As if she could sense where your train of thought was going, she interrupts. ~It's... nothing like that. Nothing... bad. I just... don't do well around people.~

Victor keeps a respectable mental distance, as much as he can. He’s still got his wing around you, pulling everyone together, but he looks away and walls off any of his own internal commentary. You have a tougher time, as your natural libido starts to tinge your thoughts with lewdness. Bunched up next to Victor, you start to experience flashes of memory back to your intimate moments together.

Choosing to step in when he begins to feel your lurid thoughts bleed in, Victor mentally clears his throat and asks her, ~You must be new to this as well?~ Larissa's shell wobbles as she tries to non-verbally nod behind it. ~Then you are doing just fine for a first time. There is no one besides us here, so it's safe to say anything you want to us. As you can tell, my friend here is too open a book for his own good sometimes, ahaha!~

She quivers and a blush creeps into her image. Even before Victor pointed it out, she'd noticed your growing horniness, and maybe even your growing erection. Someone holding onto your tail makes you anticipate them pulling it up and... ~Wow... you... are really shameless,~ to your surprise her mental voice does not sound disgusted. Instead, she seems intrigued. ~Aren't you... aren't you afraid for others to... judge you?~

Immediately, your thoughts pour out in a flustered stutter- ~I- I mean, I d-didn't... that isn't w-what I... is it really that easy to b-broadcast these th... things over Telepathy?~

Victor's presence wraps around you, like a soothing wing that drags across your fluttering heartstrings. His consoling rubbing only makes you feel more randy. ~Not so vividly, no. I for one have an easier time reading you, with what we’ve shared. But your thoughts are both unusually loud.~

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (7, 11/10)
So it's at least partially Larissa, she picks up on these things, and her thoughts come in clearer than normal- clear enough to be overpowering when she’s in a bad place. Either she is naturally very good with her Pokemon powers, making her the opposite of you, or she got a gift from her patron. Maybe both.

Taking a long breath, you notice you’ve tensed up. You relax your body, your tail laying softly in the grass beside Larissa, who remains just out of your peripheral sight. ~I- I'm sorry. Am I m-making you uncomfortable?~ She doesn't respond at first and seems to be thinking. Though you notice the contrary, Larissa's presence feels less closed off and her radiating aura of fear has become milder. Sensing you may have  ~Y-you know, shame is from failing to m-meet the expectations of other people. B-but the expectations here are so different. As Guildm-masters we even have the chance t-to set expectations ourselves.~

Seeing as being open by accident has made her more comfortable, you decide to be more open on purpose. You let it all hang out, mentally. ~I-if you're afraid of being judged, you don't need to f- to feel that way around me. And l-lots of Pokemon have been very o- open minded with my er, antics.~

>Murdoch Charm: (10/10)
Finally, Larissa starts to ease a little bit more out of her psychic shell, letting herself be heard above a whisper. ~I... I never thought of it... like that. I actually... I'm an artist. Michael is too... I thought we would get along... but I've been too nervous to... talk to him about my art.~

You know she heard how protective Michael is already. They have a lot in common, both being artists and a little odd. ~He ta- takes his role seriously, you should trust him. Being open w-with your partner is important. T-they'll be there to help when you have to d-deal with others.~

~Do... do you have much in common with your partner?~

Larissa's question makes you laugh a little when you think about it. Nobody could be more opposite than you and Gwen. ~N-no. Not at all. She- she's really strong and b-badass. I'm just a r-really horny baker-~ You accidentally cut yourself off with an involuntary moaning whimper. Victor at first doesn't seem to have noticed his closeness is causing you to get even closer to the edge. Now it's pretty obvious and he quickly gives you some space so as not to embarrass you.

Larissa makes a small sound that you aren't sure is in the real world or in the mental connection. All you can see with your real eyes is grass. Is she giggling? ~You two are... pretty cute together. Is he your... boyfriend?~

It's Victor's turn to get flustered now as he tries to formulate a response. You can practically feel him twiddling his wingtips together nervously. ~Ah, I don't know if we're really. Like that. ... Yet?~

~Don't worry... it can be hard to say how you feel… I won't judge you or anything,~ her attitude opens up a little more and she echoes your own sentiment back at you. ~I um... I heard you talking with Michael. I um... I draw lots of kinds of lewd things... not the sort of art I felt... comfortable making for our Guild. That's why... I tried to do the dungeon thing.~

~If you really w-want to win, you should p-play to your strengths,~ you try your best to sound inspiring in spite of your persistent stammer. Larissa feels apprehensive, but optimistic for the first time since you entered this connection.

~I... are you sure no one will... make fun of us?~

~I w-won't. I bet a successful ar- artisan's Guild would do better to w-win than a m-mediocre bounty hunting Guild.~

Victor chimes in to help you deliver the point. ~Murdoch here is hoping to start using his baking skills. He just needs the materials to get started, like an oven.~ Thoughtfully, Larissa turns it over in her head. You can picture her physically turning the idea over and over in her paws.

~Okay... if we can get art supplies... I'll try.~

"Are you two doing okay down there? You've both been quiet for a while," Michael's voice comes from up on the hill, pulling you away from immersion in the mindscape.

"We... we’re... okay," Larissa's voice is still just as quiet and reserved in her real body, but she manages to get out two words without being forced. Buzzing down, Michael lands on the hill just above her head.

"You sound more relaxed. Did things go well?" 

You can sense Larissa's gaze turning to you. Even though you aren’t as immersed in the telepathic connection, there’s a potent sensation of being watched when she lays eyes on you now. Wanting her to have to speak for herself, you keep yourself hidden in the bushes. Larissa takes the hint and answers, "I... it went well. Yes. Me... and Murdoch... have some things in common."

She’s still dancing around what she wants to say. Hoping to give her some encouragement, you focus again and reach her with your thoughts. ~R-remember to tell him about your art. T- t- partners should be t-truthful.~

At your urging, Larissa lets go of your tail. The connection breaks off leaving only Victor's presence nearby in your mind and you can hear her repositioning in the grass. Turning around to peek out of the grass, she's playing with one of her ears, tugging at it while forcing herself to make eye contact with Michael. "I want... I want to do art... maybe find other artists?"

"Didn't you say you were too embarrassed to put it out there? Not to discourage you. I just want to make sure this is your decision," Michael looks at you, accusingly. You just shrug and grin, letting yourself look a little smug for your accomplishment. It just comes naturally to your species.

"W-why are you upset I gave my c-c-competition good advice?" you ask, and he looks away.

"No... it's my choice," Larissa speaks up, after taking a moment’s pause to compose. "It's... it's a new world. I can't... judge myself because of what people from... from the old world would think."

Michael's worry is wiped away and he gets a smile in his eyes. "That's great to hear, Larissa! We can finally get rid of that awful monkey."

"I... she's not so bad," Larissa rubs her arm. "I don't... think she'd care much about art though."

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. There's a shuffling noise from the grass in the direction of the sunflower field. You excitedly scamper up the hillside just in time to see Gwen and Spring emerge from the grass, your tail swaying involuntarily behind you.

Spring is crossing her arms and looking off to the side, while Gwen leads a Morgrem by a leash that's attached to his bound hands rather than a collar. The gangly imp has a black eye and a few bruises. Gwen's tail is happily wagging back and forth, slapping him in the face repeatedly.

"We won!" sliding down the slope, you stumble to Gwen’s side. She drops the leash and firmly rests her paw atop it it to keep her quarry from running, but he doesn't seem to have the spirit left to try. You can't blame him, you wouldn't want to have to outrun Gwen in your best condition. Grabbing hold of Gwen’s fluffy chest, you scritch your claws in deep, earning a pleased rumbling that rises in her throat.

“We won,” she affirms.

"Yeah yeah, lap it up while you can. I'll get you next time," Spring looks over her shoulder at Gwen, bearing her fangs in a pout.

Soft footsteps come to a stop next to you. "I guess... that means I'm your slave for a day..." Larissa turns her head and looks at you. Spring's brow raises in surprise at her offering the concession herself.

Buzzing into the air near Larissa, Michael tries to advise her. "You realize you don't actually have to do it if you really don't want to."

Larissa nods. "It's... okay. Murdoch seems... okay."

"Look at that, a rousing review from the quiet girl. What kind of magic did you work while we were away?" Spring looks at you out of the corner of her eye, with a smirk of intrigue.

Rubbing the back of your head, you take a look at Larissa. Truth be told, you’re not sure what to do with her. It wouldn’t feel right to take advantage of her. Instead, you withdraw your claw from Gwen’s fuzzy ruff and clasp it around its opposite. "Actually, Gwen did all the hard work- s-she can be your m-master.” Your partner deserves something nice, and you trust she won’t be too harsh on Larissa. Gwen strides up. She comes close to brushing up against Larissa, but doesn't force any contact, only looking at those giant downcast saucers.

“Though, um, I- I do uh h-have some questions if you don’t mind," you add, “Like, w-who is your patron? Did you get some sp-special power-" you feel something touch your tail, which sticks up reflexively against a rugged underside. Gwen’s stomach muscles press down against you, as she runs her belly over your back. Her gesture of walking over you pushes down your head, until it springs back up into the swishing caress of her tail. The bristly furs make you sneeze softly, and you quickly reach up to pinch out a tiny ember.

“Mine is yours’,” she states, her tail pressing under your chin and lifting your head up. Gwen’s eyes pierce Larissa. “Answer questions. But talk and move.”

Michael clears his throat and speaks up to be heard. "I agree. It's getting late and Tallspire is a little far. Why don't we go to the Windmill Village instead and rest up?"

Gwen's stride over you leads her to the front of the pack, where she feels most at home. Larissa and her team fall in behind you with Michael buzzing above the tops of the tall grass. You fall back in the procession to speak to Larissa, still flustered by Gwen’s gesture. "S-so I was saying, um, I had some questions.” Larissa walks along with her eyes downcast, as before. Crawling on all fours, you can look up at her face from below. She quietly answers.

"My... patron, you said?" her head dips to the side.

"Th-the one who picked you!"

"Oh... right... she was very floaty. With these... pink things on her head." Reaching up, Larissa fluffs the fur on her cheeks, squishing it around the base of her whiskers.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (8, 16/10)
That sounds like depictions of Mesprit. A legendary Pokemon of emotions.

"I... I don't... read people very well. So... I chose... she gave me her Empathy." So that's how she was reading all of your intentions so clearly. Maybe that even explains her powerful psychic presence.

Spring comes up on your other side, taking long confident strides. "What are you two whispering about down there? Something saucy?"

"Oh, j-just Guildmaster stuff. Say uh, h-how do you like art? Would you-" before you even finish, the fiery monkey rolls her eyes. She waves her arm without much care.

"Michael get you to ask? Don't care much for art. Can't make it and it doesn't do me any good."

"It's... got uses for some people," Larissa murmurs. Spring leans in, cocking her head to listen closer. She makes a big, animated shrug.

"If you say so. I'll believe it when I see it."

You try getting up on two feet to stand shoulder to shoulder with Spring. You awkwardly reach out a claw to her while you waddle. "W-well, I hope there are no hard feelings b-between Guilds."

"Yeah sure. Don't expect me to lose next time, Murdoch," She places her paw in your claw and you turn on the tingle fingers. Spring staggers as her knees shake and she gasps, nearly stumbling to her knees. Gwen's ear flicks and she looks back over her shoulder. You can hear her familiar chuckle. "What in the world was that?" Spring pulls away from your claw, shaking out her hand. She clears her throat and carefully falls back into step. You give in to a fit of giggles and drop back down onto all fours for more stability. 

"Sorry- I t-told I have a magic touch! It's really good for s-spanking the monkey," you wink and wiggle one of your claws, paying close attention to Spring's body language. She folds the paw you touched under her other arm, clicking her tongue.

"Tch. Some Salandit thing I bet. Dumb slut lizards."

Leaving the Chimchar to stew in her defeat, you push ahead again, following close at Gwen’s heel at the front of the pack. Every now and then you shoot a look back at Spring, who is watching you and holds your gaze. It's hard to tell how heavy she's breathing, but she's walking a little tighter now. "C-congratulations Gwen," your partner looks back at your congratulations and smiles, a warm expression even with her fearsome teeth. You make an effort to smile back, as sincerely as your reptilian face can allow.

"Thank. You strategy help. Let Spring pummel, then jump on." On her opposite heel, the Morgrem the two of them captured is walking quietly and keeping his head down. His demeanor reminds you of Larissa’s, but there’s a distance in his stare. Where did Gwen get the leash around his hands anyways? It must be Spring's.

"D-do you have any plans for Larissa?"  you wonder. Her eyes turned back forwards, Gwen swishes her tail back and forth and thumps it against the grass on either side.

"Not know. Just beat Spring, enough reward. If you want help, question, you do."

You nod along, thinking of ways you could make use of her Empathy power. "How did it go in the d-dungeon?"

"Easy. Some grass, some bug. Let Spring fight bug." Gwen shivers a little down her spine and you see the fur on her tail bristle a little. "No like fight bug. Find places, grab you. Make senses go… weird." The conversation turning to bugs, you look up at Michael flitting around in the air. He's so small and fast it's even harder to tell if your fingers left him with any lingering arousal.

"Hey Mi-mi- hey Michael," you call up to him and he buzzes nearer to talk to you. At a normal conversational volume it's hard to hear him over his own wings.

"Do you need something?"

"Y-yeah. What's the village like? W-where are we going to rest?”

"There are a lot of windmills. I'm sure you gathered that much already. Once we get closer we'll see some of the wheat fields. One of the first Guilds built the place around making flour and bread." With him up closer, it still doesn't help see if he's any hornier than he was. What would his bug dick even look like? It must be extremely small. "They have a special hall set up for the Guild that starts there whenever the competition happens. There are only three of us, so there's plenty of room for you to stay the night."

Footsteps and rustling grass accompany Spring picking up her pace to walk next to you, on the other side from Gwen and the Morgrem. "Oh yeah. It's a nice place. I'm sure you know all about that, right? Your village gave you a little spot to call home?"

Gwen growls at her. "He stay with me."

Spring puts a paw to her mouth. "Oh that's right. Gwen lives in the smallest, most out of the way village there is. Do you even have two beds between you?"

"He stay. With me," Gwen repeats, more pointedly, more forcefully. She looks back and stares Spring down, the two of them practically casting sparks between them.

"Does he now?" Spring's eyes shoot down at you in a leer, looking you over. "I'll keep that in mind."

Sensing a rising tension between the two girls, you nervously wrack your brain for ways to smooth things out. Not least of all because you are right between them. It would be easier if you actually knew what the beef between them was. "So, h-how come do you don't like each other?” You ask, raising up your head between their glares. “Seems like t-two badass b-bounty hunters should have a lot in common."

Spring places one hand on a hip and juts it out. "I am pretty badass aren't I? Not sure I can say the same about Gwen, she gets carried along by her home field advantage. It makes her head get big."

A heavy, aggressive rumble grows in Gwen's throat. Not so different from the pleased one you are more familiar with, but you can definitely sense a different energy to it. "Used to work, two of us. She not do job. So stop."

"More like I didn't let the rules get in the way of doing what's right," breaking her staredown with Gwen, Spring looks away. She runs her hand up and down her side, scratching her abdomen.

"Let bounty go."

"She didn't do it, Gwen. I know it."

Visibly frustrated, Gwen's pace has sped up, as she begins to pull ahead of the rest. The Morgrem stumbles forwards and has to cycle his legs into a jog to keep pace with his leash. "Not know. Us, not decide. We catch, is job."

Spring breathes out through her teeth in a hiss of air. She uses the opportunity to get in the last word to you. "Gwen decided because of that, I wasn't good at my job. Fine by me. I'll prove her wrong." Then, before the inciting incident can be explored further, the grass breaks. Together they enter a field where the grass is trimmed shorter and there are some simple wooden fences. Gwen has to change course to go around.

Inside of the fences is a field of golden yellow grain, and past the tops you can see the village's namesake windmills. You count at least three big ones, but you can see one or two small ones out here in the fields. While the group goes around the field, you can see some Scyther using their natural scythes to slice down the wheat and gather it into wagons to bring in.

On the same side of the village as you remember seeing Tallspire in the distance, you reach a cobblestone road. It leads away from the village towards the tower you saw from afar. On the other side of the road from the fields the land falls away into an expanse of water you can't see the other side of.

Michael buzzes up to the front of the group to show Gwen across a short bridge and along the way to the Guild hall. The town is full of windmills large and small, and brick and wood houses. Pokemon of all sorts are working or going about their day.

On the lookout for anyone interesting, you take note of the Pokemon you see around the village.

A Scyther is pulling a wagon of grain towards the big windmill.

A Roserade is outside of one of the houses tending to a garden of homegrown berries and vegetables.

There is a Bibarel in a cleared out work yard, chewing down logs of timber to shape them into planks. A Machop is dragging another full log in to the yard.

Down towards the water you spot a pier with a few boats resting at it, and a Garchomp barking orders to other Pokemon.

Michael stops by landing on the doorframe of a larger building. It's got some fancy colors and paint jobs on it that must be leftover from the previous Guild to use it. "This is it. The Windmill Guild Hall."

Larissa comes to the front and fishes out a key to unlock the door and let everybody in. The interior has wooden floors in a small lobby room. Into two other rooms you can see there is a kitchen and dining area and a sleeping area with some cots laid out on the floor. They are not much more than basic mattresses stuffed with something. 

Everyone starts to spread out. Larissa pulls a bit of paper and a sketchpad out from behind one of the cots. Michael helps Gwen tie the Morgrem's leash to one of the wooden support beams for the building's structure.

You go into the kitchen to take a look around at the facilities, and Spring follows you in. There's a pantry, some cupboards, a box that feels cold and must be filled with ice, a firepit, and best of all a wood burning oven. You start rooting through some of the pantries. There is a bag of flour, a couple of boxes of dried berries. The drawers have pans, grills and cutlery, mostly made out of wood or clay apart from a couple metal pieces.

Spring cracks open the icebox and takes out a chilled glass bottle of some blue juice. Using a cork screw from one of the drawers, she pops it open and takes a swig. You can smell a tangy berry scent. With a satisfied sigh and a smack of her lips, Spring holds up the bottle. "Cheers. The drinks are mine, want anything to celebrate your team's victory?" Her tone has shifted from aggressive and cocky to suspiciously nice. 

"Is this a-alcohol?" you ask, sniffing the air. Spring looks at the bottle, swirls the contents around, and gives them a sniff.

Letting her head lean back, Spring makes a big show of licking her lips. With a shake of the bottle she responds, "Not last I checked. This is Belue juice. I got some liquor if you want some." She bends over the box, her hips wiggling back and forth in the air. The little stump of her tail gives off a plume of flame that lights up the room in shades of red, and you can see her goods just beneath.

"M- uh, d- do you have anything strong?"

"Hard drinker? Never took you for one," she comes back up with another bottle, this one filled with a burgundy liquid. Putting her bottle aside she takes the cork screw to the new one and twists it in, then pops the thing open. A strong smell immediately hits the air. It's sweet and very alcoholic, with a hint of something else with a kick. Spring sniffs the bottle and makes a surprised noise, fluttering her eyes. "Oh yeah. That's strong stuff. Knock yourself out." The bottle is set down in front of you. The smell alone nearly makes your eyes cross.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (9, 18/10)
You recognize the smell of Pomeg even beneath the powerful alcoholic scent. Hoping that being a Poison Pokemon helps you hold your liquor better than you used to, you carefully tilt the bottle to take a sip.

>Murdoch Fitness: Typing, Strong Liquor (17/12)
It hits your tongue with a powerful burning sensation mixed with sweetness and a spicy aftertaste that makes your tongue and throat tingle. You manage not to cough or choke on the first sip and tilt it back up, licking your face. "H- whoa. That’s uh- yeah that’s alcoholic,” you wipe some sticky saliva and residue from your cheek. Peering up at Spring over the bottle, you chew on a claw and hesitantly ask, “H-hey, why the sudden at- attitude change?"

"Oh you know," Spring picks up her bottle again. Neither of the bottles is very large, but her simian hands carry it a lot more easily. You have to get up on two legs to get a true grip on yours'. "You aren't the only one who likes feeling up the competition.” She saunters back into the other room. You carefully follow with your bottle before the alcohol really hits and you start to have trouble walking.

The Morgrem is sitting in the corner on his side, both his legs and arm tangled up in the leash now. He doesn't look comfortable at all and has his eyes screwed shut.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (8, 2/10)
Nothing seems out of place. You follow Spring into the bunk room where she takes a seat on one of the mattresses. There are seven of them, more than enough for everyone.

Gwen is lying down on a mattress across from Larissa, who is sketching on a piece of paper up against a wooden plate in her lap, periodically glancing up at Gwen’s figure. It looks like Gwen had a similar idea for what to get Larissa to do after she saw Larissa drawing.

Spring lays out on her belly on one of the matts, her flame tail sticking up in the air. Resting on one arm, she watches Larissa sketching Gwen. "So what, you decided to get a free portrait? Spruce up the hut?" Gwen doesn't even bother answering her, so Spring shrugs and takes another drink of her juice.

You join the others relaxing after the mission, picking out one of the empty beds. From your seat you have a good view of what Larissa's sketching, before she self-consciously shifts away so that nobody can see. It looks like she was just sketching Gwen's face right now, nothing lewd. "So... S-spring,” you murmur. “What exactly did you have in mind if y-you had won the bet?"

"Usual slave things," Spring rolls over onto her side to face you. Her tail licks at the mattress but to your surprise does not catch-

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Buzzed (6, 14/12)
Just one sip of your drink has gotten you buzzed already. You might have bitten off more than you can chew. What were you thinking about again? Oh, yes. A lot of Fire types with permanent flames have some control over them. Ponyta and Rapidash are the best known, they can even make riders feel no heat at all. Unless they're in heat. You giggle to yourself.

Spring is in the middle of talking when you tune back in, "... even more fun with those magic fingers of yours'." She's kicking her foot up and down against the mattress, and stops to take a drink of her drink. You follow suit and do the same. It burns going down, but you don't even almost choke this time. The first sip made it feel much smoother.

"Are you two drunk already?" Michael asks disapprovingly in his buzzy no fun voice. You almost missed him up there on the wall. Fluttering her eyes, Spring innocently takes another sip of her berry juice.

"Only one of us."

Gwen growls accusingly, "Why?"

Spring makes an exaggerated shrug with one arm. "He asked. You want a drink, Gwen?"

"No."

"Good, didn't wanna give you one."

The two look away from each other. Michael sighs. "We need to have a talk about the outlaw. How drunk are you?" You look at the bottle thoughtfully. That second sip is hitting you now and, yes, you are feeling tipsy now. It's not a big bottle but even so you haven't had much. You... might need help finishing it.

"Sure, j- ust tipsy."

Coming down from on the wall Michael hovers in the doorway. "Come on, let's talk in the kitchen." Your body feels lethargic after a day full of walking and a belly slowly sending booze to your brain. You look up at Michael and then down at your mattress.

"Jus. Give m- give me a mite." Definitely need to call this bottle quits. But what to do with it? Michael buzzes off- to wait for you, you guess. A great plan comes to you. A perfect use for the fingers that's not the finger tingle. You snap your claw after three tries to get Spring's attention and you nod your head towards Gwen.

She follows your gaze towards Gwen's ass, pointing this way so she can avoid facing Spring. "H- hey, bad. Bad or no blood, she- you got to admit she's hot- hot as hell," you mumble perversely. You lay on the drunkenness extra thick on purpose, so that when Spring stares at Gwen's ass you can make your move and she will never expect a thing.

>Murdoch Fitness: Advantage, Tipsy (4, 15)
>Spring Intelligence: (14)
Unnaturally fast you slip the bottle out of her hand and the new bottle into it without her noticing. With your thigh wrapped around the bottle you have she won't see the colors changed until it's too late. Making another click of the tongue that sounds like she knows you're right but doesn't want to say you're right, Spring looks back at you. She makes a brow raise at you hugging the bottle, and takes a swig of hers.

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Strong Liquor (12, 20/14)
The look on her face is priceless. Spring doesn't cough or spill any, but she makes a great face at the burning of the alcohol. "Gwa. How did you do that so fast?" You are giggling to yourself and taking a drink from her drink without really thinking about that she already drank from it. You make your own funny face when you realize how extremely tart and sour the juice is.

Spring shakes her head and reaches over, slipping the bottle easily back out of your drunken claw. "Gwen, you found yourself a real winner," she sounds a mix of baffled, impressed and mildly annoyed. Gwen snorts and shoots back.

"I know."

Skittering away in the middle of a giggle fit, you come to the kitchen where Michael is waiting. When you come through the lobby room you see the Morgrem is still there on the floor.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Tipsy (7, 10/12)
Nothing out of the ordinary here. Michael is waiting on top of the pantry and watching you. You try to swallow down your giggle fit and say something. "S-sorry for- for celebrating prematurely. I do- I do a lot of things prematurely." It comes out of your inebriated mouth before you can stop yourself and you quickly feel heat rushing to your cheeks. You hope you don't have a really obvious blush. Good thing for your black scales.

Michael shakes his head. He flies down and lands on his head, talking quieter so nobody hears. "You sound more than tipsy. Look, I'll be straight with you."

>Murdoch Will: Tipsy (5/12)
You think lewd thoughts. "Thought y-you, you weren't straight. You little... your cute little bug dick."

Michael stops, rendered briefly speechless. "Okay. I'm starting to think this conversation needs to wait until tomorrow.

Opening up the pantry, you rifle through it and take out a few things without even thinking to ask, "No, no, I- I just need someth- thing to focus on. Let me just make some- something here." You pick a dried berry out of one of the boxes and absentmindedly bite into it. Michael lands on your head and tries to steer you away from the pantry while you fumble around looking for eggs. No eggs. You wonder if they eat unfertilized Pokemon eggs here.

"Please stop before you start a fire. I realize fire doesn't worry you, but I am a different story."

You pull out a bag of flour and halfway through get a thought to check on the outlaw. You drag the bag behind you to the doorway and peek through.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Tipsy (8, 20/14)
He is curled up with his long limbs and covered his face with his tied up hands. Is he crying? "Is he c-crying?"

"Come. In. Here." Forcefully, Michael tugs at your collar to pull you back into the kitchen. He doesn't succeed, but you follow his tugs anyways instinctively.

"Mm, that's n-nice." You stumble into the kitchen and drop the bag of flour halfway back to the pantry, then pick it back up. For reasons you don't really understand you put it back in the pantry. You think somebody told you to.

"Look, I know this guy. I really don't think he's a thief," Michael speaks right into your ear. His quiet voice tingles like an ASMR recording. You absentmindedly hum and nod, urging him to continue talking. "He's honestly just a harmless stoner. He wouldn't steal anything, and the wanted poster didn't even list what he's supposed to have stolen- are you listening?”

"R-rapturously."

"I... want to get to the bottom of this. I just need to know if you and your partner are going to be on board or not?”

Leaning on the pantry, you flutter your eyes. "And I w- want to get to you-your bottom. Of this."

>Murdoch Charm: (13/10)
The shameless flirting seems to be having some effect, as Michael buzzes restlessly on and off near your ear. Always responsible though, he brushes off the idea. "That's very... flattering. But even if you were sober, I wouldn't want to get into any conflicts of interest with other Guilds." You make a quiet non-committal noise of confirmation.

"Gwen, m-might not be on board, you know, she- with Spring, the w- the split up."

"I heard that on the way back, yes. I was hoping you could try to talk to her." At the very least you have the frame of mind to understand doing that right now is a bad idea. You should be sober for this.

"M-maybe. Yeah, tm- tomorrow. Yeah." Swallowing and clearing your throat, you pack away the things you pulled out of the pantry. You wanted to make something but you need eggs. Without eggs you can't make any good drunk foods like pancakes.

Somewhere in your drunk mind you remember Victor looked a little weird about the Morgrem too. Maybe he knows something.

>Murdoch Will: Tipsy (15/14)
You lie down on the kitchen floor and curl up, closing your eyes. Michael crawls off of you and onto the floor, looking at you with mild concern. It's harder than normal to focus, but you picture Victor in your mind. His presence comes to you and you feel him make contact. He immediately notices your drunkenness.  ~Murdoch, you seem rather scrambled. Celebrating a victory, not drowning a defeat, I hope?~ The Noibat’s image softly smiles, and he leans in closer to listen.

~Y-for sure, yeah. Y-you were, you seemed to know this Morgrem hey. D-do you know him?~

Victor's mind curls up a little, not like Larissa pulling inside herself but like a face contorting from a bad flavor. ~I do not, not personally. It was the city more than the Morgrem that got my attention. Some bad blood there. It… it’s actually gotten easier to deal with since I joined your Guild, I found. Did something happen?~

~I-it's just, the b- bounty seems uh. Un, unusual. And there, here, a guy, he says he kn- knows the guy. B-but he ran when he got c-close. I'm not sure w-what to think.~

Listening in a solemn quiet, you feel Victor's gears turning as he navigates your poorly laid out thoughts. He begins piecing together an answer, his thoughts dancing around before falling into place. ~If he was so nervous that he ran from this... guy he knows, he may have experienced something traumatic.~

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Tipsy (10, 13/14)
By the distraught sounds of the Morgrem’s crying, you think Victor might be onto something.

That thought reminds you. Even now, he’s curled up crying in the other room. You crack open your eyes, briefly losing a real connection to Victor as your alcohol-befuddled mind struggles to keep up with all of the stimuli. "H- uggh. H-hey, sh- should we, eugh." The dizziness makes you feel nausea and you screw shut your eyes, bringing back focus. Instead you just try to speak to Michael with your eyes closed. "H-he was crying. Someone sh-should calm him down."

"Alright. Are you okay?" He settles on your side. You nod, feeling better with your eyes closed. The buzzing of Michael's wings fades away and you return to talking with Victor. ~C-could it be some- someone making fake bounties? Who- or, even why and h-how c-could that happen?~

His mind pales in a sudden spike of fear and you feel a surge of anxiety. It's nothing like how Larissa broadcast her anxiety everywhere like a flood, but you can feel a sympathetic pit deep in your stomach, weighing you down. ~It... could be the case.~ He's quiet. Then finally he gives a troubling answer. ~It might be best if you just left this alone. I suggest you let the fugitive go and just pretend you never saw him.~ Even through your drunken haze, you can tell Victor's entire attitude changed. He seems afraid.

Taking a deep breath, you try to get serious. ~I- I don't think Gwen will go- g-go for that. It sounds like she sp- she and her last p-partner s-split over letting an outlaw go.~ The ominous feeling of dread around Victor doesn't shrink down, and you're left questioning what could scare him so much. ~Is it another G-guild?~

~Not exactly,~ there is an audible buildup and release of Victor sighing. As he resigns to let go of some of whatever he's keeping back, the thick pit of anxiety loosens. ~There is a reason Victini is no longer allowed to participate in the contests. Not only does he give unfair advantages to his champions, he's willing to pick those who will do anything to win.~ Victor is wrapped in his own wings, shrouded as though hiding from an unpleasant memory. ~One of his champions was the one built up Tallspire. And when we won, he was made King for life as part of his reward. I think there are restrictions on what he can and cannot do, after all the Guilds were founded to prevent powerful despots and warlords from controlling the world.~

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage (4, 16/10)
Victor's presence shudders and shifts as he shakes his head. As though clearing away cobwebs. ~Up until I joined your guild it was hard to even think bad thoughts about him. I just kept justifying the awful way he treated me and others, and...~ He seems to realize he's let more slip than he meant to, and you feel in backpedal mentally. There’s a wall. Victor backs towards it, the wingtip resting against the surface of something compressed in the back of his mind. Finally, he drags his claw down the wall, leaving a scraping hole as he decides to come clean and explain fully. ~There is no point in hiding this from you now. He likes to have maids, male and female, in his castle. And he fools around with them. For a while I was one of his favorites, but he kept pushing the boundaries of what he could do that I would accept.~

Victor's presence is shivering now, remembering what happened. The connection shudders with him, the image shaking like it could come apart. ~Hoopa … helped me escape that … I came to hide out here- a place where King would never find me. That's why I owe him.~ Bringing himself back together into clarity, Victor puts special emphasis on his next idea. ~It was only when I joined the guild that it felt like his... spell really lifted from me.~

~M-maybe it's a safe- uh, safety. To p-prevent Guilds going to war. Or something?~ you theorize, the inner workings of this world still a mystery. Just how much control do the Legends exercise? How far would they let things go?

~I wish we could just...~ a spark of an idea comes to Victor and he brightens up- just a little bit, but there’s something thoughtful in his somber eyes. ~We could ask one of the patrons. Hoopa helped me once before, you could try asking him about the King.~

It sounds good. It sounds great. It sounds like something you will forget before you ever see him again. ~M-maybe er, remind me wh- wha- am less drunk.~ The bat boy forces a weak laugh. ~C-could he, the M- the Morgrem I mean- b-be in a samey situ- tuation as you? Or is, does the King have him doing b- other bad business? Ah- don't, d-don't you think the King might put a bounty on you?~

The idea of one of the guilds coming after him makes Victor worry, and you can feel him pull away from the connection a bit to look around himself. ~I'm certain Amor would notify me if anything of that sort came out in the mail. Just see if you can learn anything from the Morgrem. And remember, if he isn't a part of a Guild he could have difficulty confessing to anything.~

Drunkenly trying to piece together a reassurance for your bat boy, some other thoughts leak in. ~I-I'm sure no- no one's really after you- you, you, you're fine. You're so f-fine, I couldn- n't blame anyone for finding you irresistab-ble,~ you mentally mumble a bit of unfiltered flattery. The tiny bit of affection from the heart seems to warm Victor up, dispelling some of his own bad thoughts. He presses forward, holding your thoughts close, in a psychic hug.

~Thanks, Murdoch. I think I know now why Hoopa picked you.~ Releasing you from his hold, Victor starts to unravel the connection. ~You should get some rest. I'll be here if you need me.~

Coming out of the telepathic trance, you open your eyes. The light coming in through the windows has faded and much of the Mesprit Guild hall is in darkness. You can see Spring's flame across the lobby in the sleeping area, lighting it up like a candle.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Tipsy (3, 10/14)
Looking for a way to ease your drunkenness, you search the kitchen for any water. There's no pump or reservoir you can find so you open Spring's box. You can't tell what anything is at a glance. The bottles of clear liquid could be juice, or alcohol, or water. Instead you just get some dried berry chips from the pantry to munch on.

Crawling into the next room, you find Michael softly wiping away some of the Morgrem's tears with a cloth.

"H-hey guys, can we- can I ask some questions?"

"Do you think you can?" Michael asks the Morgrem, who does his best to nod in his uncomfortable position. Michael undoes the bindings on his legs, not worried about an escape attempt with the two of you are right there, letting him stretch and adjust his seating position. His arms are still leashed.

Opening and closing his mouth, the Morgrem moves his tongue around like it feels foreign in his mouth. Uncertainly, he asks, "What do,” losing track of his train of thought, he holds his hands to his face and rubs his eyes. “…What do you want to know?”

"St- start with why. The bounty, why there's a b-bounty."

He pulls up his legs into a cross legged position and leans his back up against the wall. "We were, I was, escaping. I broke him, someone out." The details are vague. Intentionally? Or is he that dazed?

Michael cuts in to point out a few things. "Your bounty claimed you were a petty thief. Why did you run away when you saw us?"

The fugitive's head bobs down, looking at his lap. "Can't trust anyone. Can't trust my, myself. Just have to get far away."

"What can y-you tell me ab-bout the King?" Your question catches him in the gut. You can see him clench up and flinch away, wrapping his legs in his bound arms. Michael watches the exchange, curious where this is going.

"King. My King… I'm such, such a disappointment," the Morgrem is talking under his breath, mostly to himself. "Should we go back, go beg for mercy? He will be merciful. He's always kind. Always forgiving…"

The nature of his ramblings has Michael looking more concerned than ever. He gently pulls you aside. Or maybe insistently. His biggest tugs still feel gentle to you. "What's this about the King? He runs Tallspire."

"I-is that all?” you wonder. “He's not n- not the King of everywhere?"

Shaking himself, Michael confirms, "Just Tallspire. Does he have something to do with this?"

You look back at the Morgrem, who is still talking to himself. "I t-think so." Hoping to get more details you go back over to the Morgrem. He’s curled up like Larissa, staring into the opposite wall. "C-can you give me a timeline of the past w-week?"

"Has it been a week?" He looks up, facing one of the windows. He stares past you and out at the night, like you aren't there. "I can't see the sun. We, I'm not back, am I? Is he back too? He spent so long down there. I couldn't... I stole from the King.

"I think h-he helped someone escape from the King," you murmur aside, to Michael. Michael squints his eyes.

"The King is known for being well loved in Tallspire. Not saying I don't believe you, this is just going to be tough to solve."

You try to get the Morgrem to focus on you, moving into his line of sight and looking him in the eye. "Who did you h-help? It's okay. W-we're here to help."

He snaps out of staring into space and locks eyes with you. You can see a mixture of exhaustion and pain in his expression. He must have been on the run for days without rest before Gwen and Spring beat him into submission. "Hustle." In his moment of clarity, he manages to get the word out. The way he says it sounds more like a name than a verb. "He, makes uh..." the Morgrem loses his way again, drifting in and out of consciousness. Michael drags a pillow in from the other room and puts it under him as he lowers himself down.

You help Michael bind his legs again, in a more comfortable position than the one Gwen had him in.

"Hustle is a Zigzagoon," Michael explains once the Morgrem is asleep. "He deals in recreational substances. All legal, nothing harmful." He follows you as you crawl into the bedroom and onto one of the floor cots. You don't notice if it's the same one as before. The alcohol is starting to make you even more tired now as the long day hits you. "We'll talk more in the morning."

Michael buzzes away and leaves you there, drifting off.

You can't resist the alure of unconsciousness anymore. In the dim glow of Spring's butt you let the world fade to black, the excitement of the day sifting through your sauced brain. If you have any dreams or visions through the night, you don't remember any. When you wake up, your head aches a bit. You weren't completely wasted, so the hangover isn't too bad.

It is late morning. The sun is up shining in the windows. Your eyes blink and take in the room. Spring is gone from her bed. Gwen is curled up with her eyes closed. and Larissa is sitting up sketching. A bleary-eyed glance doesn’t find Michael’s tiny shape anywhere in view. You crawl from bed to look into the next room, and see Michael sitting with the Morgrem. His hands are still tied, but his feet are free and he is eating a bread roll. Michael is perched on his ear.

There is humming in the kitchen. Musical humming. The rumbling of a hungry stomach draws you to the kitchen to find where the others got their bread roll. Next to the kitchen entrance are some wooden basins of water that weren't there yesterday.

Spring is in the kitchen swaying her hips from side to side while she kneads some dough on top of one of the cupboards. There is a small pan of plain dinner rolls already made and sitting next to her. She hums while she works her fingers through the dough to soften up the bread. When you come in, Spring turns to see who it is. She's not wearing any apron at all and has some powdery flour on her chest. "Look who's up. How's the head?"

Rubbing at the side of your head with one claw, you manage a neutral noise to answer her. You still feel foggy and dull but it isn't very painful.

Spring winks. "Well then, are you hungry for my buns?"

A flirty response dies in your mouth and you crawl over to see what she's doing. Licking your dry tongue across your snout, you mutter, "Y-you bake?"

"Not really. You live alone, you learn to make a few things," the monkey girl gives you a one shouldered shrug. Not wanting to get left out, you go to the water basins. One of them is clear and the other seems to be used for washing, so you rinse off your claws, wet your tongue and walk on two legs back to the counter.

"I b-bake. Need a- a hand?"

"If you're offering, let's see you work. I'm sure your buns taste just as good," she backs away and slaps you on the butt, leaving a flour imprint of her palm and making you squeak. Then she rinses off her paws in the washing basin.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (9, 1/8)
The plain dinner rolls Spring made look okay, but without anything to put on it bread is just bread. You bend down and take some of the dried berry chips from the drawer, crumbling them into her latest batch of dough to mix in. They should add a little flavor. There are ingredients here you never saw in the cupboards and pantry. Spring must have had them in her personal box.

Spring kicks back against the wall behind you and puts her feet up while you do the work. Truth be told it's a one person job and she made one batch already, so there’s not much for her to help with. "What's your story, baker boy?" She asks as you shape balls of dough into a new pan.

Trying to stay positive, you focus on some good memories. "When I was l-lit- young, I had a summer job at a d-daycare center baking treats. It's a place where t-trainers take Pokemon to..." you clear your throat and drift off, changing the subject, "W-well, I learned magic tricks to entert-tain the Pokemon there. They thought it was r-really neat how a human could do s-special tricks."

Side by side you line up the balls of dough in the baking pan and take a look at the oven. Without electronics there's no way to pre heat the oven or set the temperature. It's a good thing you got used to cooking over a fire at camp. Compared to tin foil over an open flame baking in this oven should be easy.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Skill (13, 17/8)
With some kindling and a puff of flame you get the wood burning oven going again and slide the pan of unbaked buns inside. Then you rinse off the excess flour in the basin. Spring is just opening up her mouth to say something when you wipe your claw across her chest, brazenly brushing away some of the powder and letting your hand send tingles through your body.

"Ahn~ damn, you practice that kind of magic trick on the Pokemon back home?"

You nervously laugh and rub the back of your neck. Forgetting to turn off the fingers, you give yourself a jolt of pleasure that at the same time makes your head ache a little from the minor hangover. "Well, t-that never happened until n-now. There was t-this time out in the wild, b-but nothing happened. I mean I wouldn't have said n-no..." The jolt of pleasure and remembering the wild Pokemon you stayed with for a while at camp both result in a little tent in your kilt. It doesn't go unnoticed by Spring, who pinches the tip through the fabric and pulls, tugging the rest of your length out of its slit. The sensation is a mix of pain from her squeezing the tip and strange pleasure as you fully emerge at half-mast.

"It's rude to pop a boner while you're talking to somebody," She chastises you playfully. Her fingertips release the tip of your cock and you reach down, rubbing the sore spot.

"S-sorry..."

"Consider us even for the fingers!" Spring sits back and you cough nervously, going back to the oven to check on the progress of your buns. You don't know if Salandits sweat but you sure feel like you're sweating right now. To pass the time you fill the silence with a few more details, "We had a- a p-professor in town. He uh, he studied Pokemon nutrition. Kind of influenced me to- to learn. So that, and both my parents worked, s-so. I cooked for my younger siblings too."

Topics are running out, and whenever you look back at Spring she hits you with a leering gaze. If you get too distracted you'll burn your buns. Maybe you should try grilling her with questions too. Getting a wooden cup you fill it up from the cooking water basin and take a drink to rehydrate. "So um, w- not that I wasn't listening, o-or that I can't handle liquor, but w-what were you saying yesterday about m-my magic hands?"

Stretching out her legs, Spring wiggles her toes and looks at you from the side. "Oh, just that I would make you do all the cooking and chores and give me lots of massages all over. You're already halfway there, I guess I didn't need to make you my slave after all." Her mouth puffs into a pout. "Still would have liked to win."

You rub your claws together on the back of the cup and watch the dough rise in the baking pan. "You um, h-how did you become a bounty hunter? And with Gwen..." The cheeky look on her face vanishes. Spring looks across the lobby towards the sleeping quarters and frowns.

"I knew her back when she could barely talk. Tch, she can still barely talk. I always wanted to explore dungeons, what kid doesn’t want to go on adventures? And that was all she knew much about. Fighting and stuff. Naturally, she needed a brains for the operation,” confidently, she sets a thumb against her chest. “Bounty hunting started as just a way to make money, fund more adventuring, y’know, but she got really into it. Found a purpose in it, crap like that, crap that makes people’s thinking go all rigid." Rubbing at one of her teeth with a finger, Spring stares off into the oven’s flames, remembering.

"W-were you two c-close?" you ask, making a lewd motion with your fingers. A short laugh and Spring looks at you out of the corner of her eye.

"I don't swing that way. But we might've shared a guy or two in our time. So I guess we were pretty comfortable."

Rubbing your claws against each other, you look down at the floor. "It doesn’t sound like- I mean. How did things go so bad ah- after just one bad mission?"

Spring's expression gets sharper and she bares her canines. "Caught somebody. I knew they were innocent, in my gut. But Gwen said deciding who's innocent isn't our job. Got real anal about shit I didn't care about. Words were said. I wasn't letting somebody who didn't deserve it get punished, so I gave Gwen a whooping and let them go. She never got over it."

An awkward silence hangs in the air and Spring goes back to picking her teeth. You pull the buns out of the oven once they finish and feel a few. Still burning hot, but your claws handle the heat just fine. They're light and fluffy. "H-how did you end up with the Guild?"

"Found them wandering around a dungeon without a clue. Decided to give them a hand. Working alone gets lonely, and Guild benefits make the job a ton easier, so I guess I just joined on a whim. Made them really sweat for it though, good to have people feel like they owe you," Spring shuts up as Gwen pads into the room. The two share a dirty look and Gwen comes over to see your baking. She notices the flour print on your rump and growls a little in her throat.

"She bother you?" 

You laugh and wave it off, "Oh, I-I was just being mouthy and g-got a little monkey spanking." Gwen shoots around to look Spring in the eyes and you quickly calm her down with pets, running your claw down the thick fur of her neck and working your way back up to behind her ear. "H-hey, it was just a joke. Hey, why d-don't you have a bun? They're hot so b-be careful," you go back to the counter to get her one of your freshly baked rolls. Careful to conceal your wood and clear your mind of lewd thoughts.

>Murdoch Will: (18/10)
The erection shrinks back into your slit as you offer Gwen a bit of breakfast. She takes a small bite out of it and you can hear the bits of dried berry crunch. Food puts Gwen in a better mood and she sits down, content to let you feed her. You swallow down the lingering nervousness and try to put the words together in a way that will sound most convincing. "G-Gwen, I had a talk with Victor over his t-telepathy."

She listens, her ears perking up as she takes another bite.

"He was... Spring, this is a little personal, c-could you step out?"

"Yeah alright. Holler if you need me." Getting up and walking out with a hand on her hip, she avoids looking at Gwen.

With just you and Gwen you start over, and share some details Victor might not want to be going around in a hushed voice. "He was talking about how he was in- in an a- an abusive relationship. It involved the King in Tallspire, and Victor said that until he j-joined the Guild he felt under some kind of spell."

Gwen growls as she tears off a piece of bread and swallows it. "Then we go. We catch." You can’t say you expected much different from her. So far so good. Now for the hard part.

"It- it's not that simple. He, he was a winner of the Guild contest and has a bunch of rewards from the patrons so w-we might not be able to stop him. B-but.. we can help others he abused," you say as firmly as you can.

Licking the front of her teeth to clean off bits of bread after she finishes the roll, Gwen follows along, keeping her eyes on you. "There other? Where we find?”

The moment of truth. "We um, m-me and Michael, we figured out that the Morgrem we caught helped one of them escape. And t-that's why, we think the King put up a fake bounty. So we- uh, he um, d-didn't do anything."

Gwen watches you carefully. You can tell she's tense. Her gaze turns towards the doorway behind her. "Spring do this? Put you up? Make point?"

"N-no, no, it has nothing to do with that!” you wave your claws. “This is... l-look, if you need proof, talk to him. Or- or ask Larissa. She has special Empathy from her patron, she's like a l-lie detector." Gwen gets up and pads into the lobby room without another word. You hurry to follow as she approaches the Morgrem, who is eating a bun with his bound hands. Michael is perched on his ear.

"You. Explain," she bluntly orders the Morgrem. He stares with his mouth full and then remembers to swallow.

"What?"

"They say, you no steal. Why you have bounty?"

The Morgrem looks down and moves his mouth, but no words come out at first. When he finally talks it's more coherent than last night. "I... I broke someone out of the dungeon. They, he must have been a criminal, but..." He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "No. The way they were treated... but he had to have good reasons. I... should turn myself in?"

Gwen turns to you, looking satisfied with his answer. "He say will turn in. We take, then check King."

"And by the time you find if something's wrong it will be too late for him. His name is Ester by the way," Michael cuts in. He stands protectively on the Morgrem's head.

Gwen looks back at him with a mix of apprehension and frustration. "He say he break out criminal."

Spring steps out from around the corner into the next room. "And does he sound right to you? He's been hypnotized or drugged or something."

Gwen looks at the floor and growls, clearly trying not to lash out at Spring.

"You're blinded by hating me. This isn't like you," the monkey insists. Gwen looks up at her, ears bent back. "Last time, you told me I was being stupid and sentimental and there was no proof. Sure, maybe there was no proof. But I trusted my gut. This time, the proof is staring you in the face and all you see when you look at him is me being right, and you can't stand it. You’re the one who’s being sentimental." Spring points at the Morgrem. You reach out and take Gwen's shoulder. Her head snaps back to look at you, then her posture softens.

"You trust me right? And V-Victor backs up his story. Y-you said not to steal from good people. Whoever this Es-ster guy freed, he might have been- he- he was probably abused too. Criminal or not, w-we can't let someone punish good people for... for doing the right thing."

>Gwen Will: (8)
>Spring Charm: (10)
>Murdoch Charm: (15)
A heavy stream of air blows from Gwen's nostrils as she lets out a deep breath.

"Fine. We no turn in. Yet." Letting out a breath through her nose, Gwen takes a seat.

"There's another option besides turning him in at all," the small voice of Michael can be heard as he buzzes closer. "Guilds can force outlaws to join and pardon them. Most don't because it can hurt their reputation if the outlaw misbehaves. If one of our Guilds recruited Ester, the bounty would be invalid anyways."

"A-and if it's like Victor it should break his spell!" you add excitedly.

Gwen looks between you and Michael. "So who take him? Who be responsible for him?"

You don’t really know the guy, and wasting a Guild spot on some stoner might come back to bite you. "M-Michael knows him. I think he would do better wi- with your Guild," you suggest.

Larissa peeks out from behind Spring and slowly eases herself into the room. She fidgets with her paws before speaking. "We... we can take him. I'm... really not too worried... about winning." To your surprise, Michael doesn't seem surprised or concerned about her admission. He flies over and hovers near her bag.

"Is it alright if I grab the Guild card from you?" Larissa nods and Michael climbs into her bag, flying out soon after with their card. He flies to Ester and holds it in front of him. The bug's voice is gentle. "Ester? If you want to, you can join our Guild. Anything you did wrong will be forgiven and you won't have to worry anymore. All you have to do is touch the card."

Carefully, slowly, Ester reaches out and places his hand against the Guild card. His face appears on it, with the other members. You notice that unlike your card it doesn't list any of their fetishes. Immediately after joining, Ester blinks and rubs his eyes, as if clearing away a layer of sleep.

"Whoa. I feel like. I need to process. Mikey, is that you…? Where am I again?" he looks around at all the nearby faces, flinching when he encounters Gwen’s powerful gaze.

"You're in Windmill Village, Ester. Come on, let's get you some more food," Michael undoes the leash around his hands. Gwen tenses up, but the Morgrem makes no moves to escape or attack. He lifts a hand to feel his black eye and winces, then follows Michael into the kitchen. He seems more comfortable in Michael’s presence. You are left with Gwen, Spring and Larissa.

"Hey Larissa?" you speak up to get her attention. The shy girl looks at you with her head down. It's an improvement from when you met her yesterday.

"Yes...?"

"I think y-you should tell Spring about the new direction of your Guild."

"Oh... yeah,” she turns and faces Spring, who leans against the door frame. The spunky monkey looks like she expects what's coming. "We... we decided to do art... as a Guild. If... you don't want to be with us anymore, I... understand."

Spring watches her leader’s face, lowering herself down to get a better view. "Hey. If you kids want to draw pretty pictures all day, that's no skin off my back. But I'm not a sitting around fingerpainting kind of girl." Spring runs a hand over her head and scratches at her ear. "So yeah. I guess I'll go do my own thing. Besides, if I'm competing in something I want to compete to win."

Larissa nods, slowly. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Then she opens it again to talk. "You're... rude. But... you're not bad. I hope you find... someone you like." Mesprit's chosen shuffles off into her room again, leaving you with the other girls. Spring keeps standing where she is, looking away from Gwen. Gwen sits next to you with her eyes closed and a tense face.

"So- uh, s-so um," you reach out and run a hand through Gwen's fur and down her side. Despite herself you see some of the tension drain from her face. "You did good today, Gwen. D-do you understand Spring a- a little better?"

Gwen opens her eyes and looks straight at Spring. "Apologize."

"Apologize for what?" Spring snarks back, and the two are in a standoff again. 

"Ex- excuse me," you slide in between the two of them and can almost feel the tension in the air. Both girls turn to look at you. "You two were, um, good friends before right? W-wouldn't this be the perfect chance to let all this bitterness go?"

Spring lets out a short, barking laugh. "How do you figure that?"

"N-nobody has to admit to being in the wrong if you can just b-both move on. If that fight about Ester ended for me and Gwen l-like it did for you two, I'd have regretted it f-forever. Don't you miss each other at all?"

>Gwen Will: (6)
>Spring Will: Disadvantage (5, 7)
>Murdoch Charm: (16)
Both of them look over you, at each other. Their tense expressions begin to melt, and Spring takes a step forward, extending a paw towards Gwen. "He's wrong. We both have to admit we were wrong. No more excuses. I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have fought you."

Slowly, Gwen lifts up her paw and sets it in Spring's, and the two shake on it. She grunts, "Hmph. Apologize. I no trust you. Partner should trust partner."

"B-besides, since there's no bounty anymore, the b-bet is still on right?" you speak up from under the two of them, looking up at them. They release each other's paw and look back down at you. "W-why not see who can win the next bounty faster?"

Spring gets her characteristic smirk back. "I don't have a partner to bet anymore. Not much of a bet if Gwen doesn't get anything if she wins."

"When I win."

Spring looks up at Gwen and narrows her eyes. It's a playful expression now, not as tense or as fierce. She lifts a hand to her mouth and chuckles. "Want to bet?"

You place a claw on Gwen's shoulder and gently pull her to make her look at you. Both of you turn away from Spring, giving her your backs. You're pretty sure Spring is still in earshot, but it gives Gwen the illusion of some privacy. "D-do you think you'd be okay if we recruited Spring? If we keep b-bounty hunting we'll need more tough Pokemon like you, a-and you could rebuild your friendship."

Gwen huffs and looks back over her shoulder at Spring. You look back too and see Spring pretending to whistle and not pay attention. "Hm. Is okay. Long as she behave."

Stepping up behind you, Spring reaches around your shoulder and leans in. "So, does that mean the bet's still on then, or what?" she asks, already goaded into agreeing by the secret offer.

Gwen takes the guild Card out of the item bag and sets it in front of Spring. Then she looks to you. A sly smirk tells you she knows you planned this. "How about? Winner have our partner for slave for a day."

Picking up the card, Spring turns it over and gives it a look. "Wow you've got a kinky Guild card," she points at your list of fetishes. “No judgement. I’m down for whatever if it’s fun.”

"I-it's a prank from Hoopa," you explain, laughing awkwardly. Spring hands the card back to you, with her information newly printed on it.

"Sounds like a fun guy. Can't wait to meet him." 

“I g-guess we need to um, we should figure out what to do next,” stepping out of the room into the entryway, you spot Larissa sitting in the corner giving finishing touches to Gwen’s portrait. The leash Spring used to tie up Ester is still attached to one of the support beams of the Guild Hall. Reaching past Larissa to untie it and give it back, you peer over your shoulder to ask Spring, "D-do you own the oven here, or l-live around here?"

Spring waves a hand with a shake of her head. "Oven's the Guild's. Only thing I own here is the ice box. I live on the road, go where the jobs are. Was kinda nice having a nest again."

She prods at Gwen in the side with her foot. Gwen growls in response. Not aggressive, but a warning. A boundary.

"Guess I get to stay in your little backwater hut, huh?"

"Maybe I make sleep outside."

"You wouldn't do that to little old me would you?"

While the two of them bicker between them, you face Larissa. When you come over she hands you a finished pencil sketch of Gwen's face and upper body. With a smile you compliment her, "H-hey, not bad! Thanks! Um, about Spring's stuff- c-can we leave it here until we come back?"

"Yeah... sure. I don't mind," the Espurr shrugs.

Leaning in around the doorway with a half-packed bag dangling from her hand, Spring cuts in. "You guys can use my cooler to keep stuff cool until I'm back. Just don't drink none of my stuff."

You rub one of your claws along the back of your other arm and make Larissa an offer in a quieter voice, "I-if you want you guys can join the bet to w-win me for a day."

Shyly, she peeks up from around her ear. Her expression is as plain and hard to read as ever, "No... thank you. I think... I'm done with dungeons. Unless... I really, really have to..." Larissa scratches her cheek. “Thanks though… for the offer.” You start to pat Larissa on the shoulder and then remember she doesn't like to be touched. Instead you nod at her with a friendly smile and go check on Ester and Michael in the kitchen.

Ester is drinking some water and leaning on the counter. Michael is sitting on the counter next to him. Waddling closer, you raise one claw and wink your fingers in a tiny wave. "H-hey. Feeling better?"

"Sure. Totally, like fog is blowing away," lowering the edge of the mug from his lips, Ester releases a satisfied sigh. “It’s still kinda wispy, but I think you saved my butt. Owe you one, dude.”

You sit in front of him, shifting until you find a comfortable reptilian squat. "D-do you mind if I ask about your Zigzagoon friend? I-is he on the run too?"

Ester's ears wiggle up and down. He sets down his wooden cup and gasps. "Ah crap! Hus. Was there a bounty for him too?" The only two that came to your village were him and the Gastly. You shake your head. Ester turns to Michael, who shakes his head too.

"Must be the King sent is own goons after him."

"Or he fled in another direction,” Michael suggests. “They distribute bounties local to the criminal’s last known location. No point sending far north bounties down here, or vice versa. Should we send word to the other Guild towns?" he suggests, crawling forward off of the counter and gliding to the floor next to you. Ester picks up another of your rolls and chews on it nervously, clearly stress eating.

Gwen and Spring come in from behind you and Spring snatches up a roll for herself. "Almost forgot in all the excitement I haven't eaten yet. So what's the plan, exalted Guildmaster?" Her snarky tone is punctuated by a bite into the baked good. “Mmf,” she grumbles through a full mouth. “Good shtuff, Murry.”

The curve of your claw rests just beneath the tip of your snout. "W-we have to go to Tallspire anyways. To collect a- another bounty. For the Gastly,” you point out. “And um. We should p- or I should probably talk to Hoopa about the king. I’ve been wondering if h-he would come to my dreams if I called."

Taking a slow walk back into the entryway of the Guild, you rest a claw on the door and look back at Larissa. "R-remember, I- I think if you just think about me and focus you can use t-telepathy like we did with Victor. He’s um, it’s good- b-best with people you’re f- f- fu- familiar with,” you twiddle your fingers together and nervously giggle. “You’re strong though! It’s, I bet it’s probably okay anyways. I’ll- I’ll see you all! I’ll b-be around, eventually!"

The shy cat puts on the faintest smile. "If we... ever need any help, I'll... I'll keep you in mind. I... guess we'll see." Larissa looks off past you and waves a curt goodbye to Spring, before shuffling away into the bunkroom. You turn around to see Spring giving Michael a one-fingered noogie. He buzzes in her grip and struggles to get free with more strength than you would expect of his size.

"Let go of me!"

"Say uncle."

>Spring Fitness: Advantage (8, 20)
>Michael Fitness: Disadvantage (18, 5)
Spring stays calm and keeps a firm grip on Michael even as he gives his all. Tired out, the bug goes limp in between her two fingers and dangles there. "Uncle." Satisfied, Spring smugly sets him down on the floor. Michael immediately smooths out the messed up fuzz on his head. "What was that for?!"

"For calling me names when you think I'm not listening," with a wink over her shoulder, Spring takes you by the arm and leads you out. Gwen is at your other side in an instant, pressed up close to you to force you to put an arm around her. She tries to go at a faster pace to keep her head ahead of Spring. Together the two of them drag you along stumbling faster than you can normally walk on two legs.

The morning awaits, a new day’s light stretching over the surrounding town. It’s lively, with Pokemon passing in either direction on their own little business, yapping and gossiping. "D-does the town have a place for bounties?" you ask, hoping a stop will help you rearrange this walking pretzel into something more comfortable.

"Oh yeah, most of them have a request board. Bounties are the only ones that really get around, the requests will all be local," Spring and Gwen keep competing to lead the way and bring you to a big cork bulletin board beside the local Guild Hall. Ester's bounty posting is still up, but Spring takes it down herself and crumples it, reaching back to let it char in her tail.

"M-maybe we should check it out for any easy ones. F- for- so we can get extra supplies for the trip." You untangle yourself from the girls and stretch up to read each ad in turn. The bounty for the Gastly is still up as well, so they must not have got word that you caught him yet. Gwen gets up on the board with her front paws and yanks that one off with her mouth.

There are no more bounties, but two other requests. One is from a sea captain who wants a Guild to help him explore one of the sea dungeons for treasure, but you remember those are supposed to be really dangerous. The other is from a tailor who wants models for new designs.

You are distracted away from reading by a hip bump from Spring, "The really fun requests get written on the back," she advises. Curious, you go around behind the board. Someone has left a piece of chalk stuck to the back by some sticky goo and it's been used to write lewd and rude things. It reminds you of bathroom stall writing. There is a request, or maybe advertisement, to knock on the back door of the village bakery for the good stuffing. Another requests a cave to explore tonight near the pier. Biting at your lower jaw, you consider the temptation…

Chapter Text

Standing before the lewd requests on the back of the bulletin board, the baking innuendo catches your eye. "M-maybe I could do the bakery one."

Spring laughs and claps you on the back. "Living up to being a Salandit, alright. I can show you where it is."

The two girls compete over the lead again, but neither of them have grabbed you this time, allowing you to follow more comfortably on all fours. Working with the two of them is going to be a workout.

The bakery is a very bright building. The walls are painted red and the windows are round portholes with yellow rims. In the front windows you can see displays with clay sculptures of their products, such as cakes and muffins.

"You want us go with?" Gwen rumbles. Whether she really knows what's going on is anyone's guess, she usually gets more than she’s letting on.

Spring holds a hand to her mouth and laughs. "I think all three of us might be a little too much for this job. Up to you, fearless leader."

Behind the bakery is a small cobblestone area. It's too nice to call it a back alley, but it rests in the middle between the backs of a few different shops. It looks a little exposed for doing lewd things, anyone could walk through at any time. But that also excites you, and you feel yourself start to swell inside your cockslit. "S-so you're totally trying to get me molested, r-right?" You look up at Spring and her mouth splits into a wide apish grin.

"You're the one who jumped at it, buddy."

"W-we could always go help out the tailor... b-but," some cold feet lock you to the ground, your claws clenching around the cobbled stone of the roads. You shuffle your hindquarters back and forth. It can't be that bad, it's broad daylight, right? "M-maybe you two should stay w-within earshot. But I um, I'll handle this solo."

Gwen brushes her head under your chin. "Call if you need. I come running."

The two girls wait near the bakery while you slide into the alcove behind it. The bakery doors are round and stylized the same way the windows are, and the back one is no exception. You lightly knock on it, but nobody answers. They probably couldn't hear. Gathering up some willpower, you knock again, more forcefully this time. After a moment a Shuckle opens the door and pokes his head out. "Oh, hello." He seems surprised to see you at first. You start to think it was all a joke or prank, but his next question clears that up. "Are you here about the uh, request I left? I never really expected anybody to... you know. Go for it.”

"I w-was sold at the word 'b-bakery'. I take it you're a- a baker?" you tell him, trying to play it cool and keep from running into something with the wrong idea. He opens the door a little more, and you can see behind him a kitchen that opens up into the bakery shop.

"Yeah, this is my bakery. I don't know if it's customary to introduce myself, or not. I guess you don't have to, but, well. I'm Percy," he extends one of his yellow tendrils. You take it in your claw, feeling its soft texture. Actually his arm tentacle feels a lot like dough, soft and squeezable and it rises again after you release. You give him a little bit of a tingle and he shivers from the sensation. "Oh, wow. Is this like, a pheromone thing?"

You try to laugh coyly, but nearly hiccup in the middle of it from nerves, "T-to- well- uh, something like that.” From his attitude it seems like you had the right idea of what he wanted. So you dial back the coyness and try to get him to tell you more. "What, um, w-what is it you want? T-that is, are you- are you looking to give a stuffing, or..?"

Percy doesn't pull away from your hand, seeming to enjoy the tingling sensation. He doesn't try to pull you in or anything shady either. The continued contact leaves a tingle in your own paw, which is new. "Honestly, I just put that up on a dare with a friend, I don't normally do this sort of thing. But- that doesn't mean I don't want anything to happen!" He quickly adds, before you can get the impression that he's shutting things down.

"I- I don't really either. Just kind of b-been enjoying some newfound confidence. S-so what are your p-preferences? I'm M-Murdoch. By the way," you look down at your claw. Realizing he's still holding your hand like a degenerate, Percy gently pulls it away from your claw.

"I prefer to be the giver, but I don't mind paying you back if you want."

You look around the back alcove. There's still nobody else around, but it's not the most private place. "I guess w-we should set limits. Do you w-want to do it out here?"

"I don't think I could handle that," Percy admits, his head swaying from side to side on his flexible neck, flowing into the motion just behind the base. "I'd prefer if we went inside for the main event, I guess we'll call it. I don't know if you've ever been with a Shuckle before, but the first time can get a little weird. Is there a safeword you want to use in case you don't like it?"

"B-bookmark?" you suggest automatically. If Percy thought it a strange choice, he doesn't mention it, just nods.

"Sure." He moves aside from the inside of the door and invites you in. "Is there anything you really like or don't like, so I know?"

Feeling particularly randy after all your drunken shenanigans the night before, you follow Percy in and close the door behind you. He's gone out into the front and is putting a ‘closed for lunch’ sign on the front door. "A-anything's cool, really. J-just, I'll say bookmark if things are too much. G-go wild," you answer, taking a look around. Percy's kitchen is nicer than the barebones one in the Mesprit Guild's hall. He has two separate ovens and a rack of different types of pans. There's even a sink with a hand-cranked water pump so he doesn't have to go far to get clean water.

When he comes back, he leads you off to the side to a set of stairs leading up. Head tilted towards them invitingly, he offers, "My bedroom is just upstairs. There's not a lot of head room, but I think that should be okay for you?"

You go up with him into a room with a low ceiling, like an attic. There is a plush looking pillow nest up here, where he invites you to get comfortable with a gesture. Apart from his bed, a window looking out at the street and an empty wooden cup there isn't a lot up here. No wardrobe or rack for accessories. You guess a Pokemon like him wouldn't really wear clothes.

"So when you say w-weird, you don't have some kind of b-blender or c-crusher in there for berries do you?"

Your innocent question makes him laugh as you lie down on the pillows. "Nothing like that. We break down berries into juice using digestive enzymes, but it doesn't work on meat. Grass types might have to be careful with us."

Spread out flat on your back, you look up at Percy demurely. There's a visible tent pitched in your kilt. He draws closer and sets his tentacles on either side of your waist, looking at you for permission. He draws the kilt down and off of you letting your dark pink erection stand up in the dim light of the attic bedroom. "G-go wild," you repeat yourself, curious to see what the full Shuckle experience is. He slips out of his shell and you see for the first time a Shuckle’s bizarre insides. Or, not his insides, but his outside-insides. He’s naked.

"If you were expecting me to go wild by pounding you into the floor, well, my shell really would crush you if I did that. It's solid rock," Percy says while he stretches out. His body is very stringy and stretchy like a pile of spaghetti noodles, as he slinks across the floor and rests overtop of you. His skin all over is as soft and flexible as his arm was. "I have fine control of my body. This won't even need any lube. Think of it like all the benefits of a Ditto without the risk of me laying an egg in your butt."

Long limbs wrap themselves around you, until Percy has you practically tied up in his body like bondage rope. His torso presses down against your crotch while his face hovers above yours'. "Comfy?" the strange mold-noodle asks, his eyes betraying no maliciousness. You do feel comfortable in his hold.

Between him and the pillows, you feel enveloped in softness. Like lying in bed covered in cool jello. You nod, and you start to feel what he meant by fine control. Everywhere he's holding you up against him, you can feel him start to flex and massage your body.

It is accompanied in due time by a pleasant, tickling sensation. It’s the same one that started to creep in between your fingers, when you were gripping his soft appendage earlier. His body actually feels like it's tickling you on contact, and that feels especially weird with your dick pressed between your stomach and his. You fight back the urge to giggle.

"That's me,” he tells you. Percy draws his head up and looks down, to see how much of him is touching you. “Like I said, totally safe if you aren't a Grass type. It's not sensory overload is it? I can dial back the contact." 

You wrap your fingers around the noodle limbs encompassing you and give them a playful squeeze, letting your magic fingers go full force. Percy's body wriggles at the touch and he rubs his torso against you eagerly. "A-amateur," you stutter the tease out through a barely held back giggle fit.

“Oh?” Percy smirks back playfully, letting his neck droop down again and coiling next to your head. His cheek brushes yours’, and each new point of contact tingles with just the anticipation of his enzymes beginning to work on you. "I take it you want more, then."

"As- as intense as y-you can! Give it to me!" The twitches in your body make the request break free in a shout.

Request heeded, you are pulled against him tightly. His body molds over your own, covering every surface as he squeezes into the nooks and crannies, leaving only your head exposed. The ticking sensation hits you all over, some places his ministrations are soft and pleasant, others are more sensitive and you can't help it. Laughter bubbles up from inside and you have to let it go, laughing and giggling in your fungal cocoon.

You try to run your hands all over Percy’s body in turn, but he's already all over you. Under your arms. Between your fingers. Slithering underneath your chin. It's like swimming in molasses or quicksand, trying to raise an arm. You settle for kneading and rubbing at whatever parts of him have settled into the spaces between your fingers. Judging by the shudders rippling through his surface, he's definitely enjoying your magic touch too. For once, you’re going to give as good as you get.

In your crotch area, you feel him start to mold into place as well. His stomach has enveloped your dick and you can already feel yourself spurting pre into a small open pocket. His body also molds down into your slit and ass, beginning to fill in all the cracks. There was no exaggeration, when Percy claimed he would not need lube. It's not like something pushing its way in, but instead tiny tendrils sliding in and then swelling inside to fill the available space. Even your deepest, most private places are not spared the sensation of Percy's enzymes, and you can feel your prostate and internal testes being pressed against as he swells and contracts, massaging every inch.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Sensory Overload (7, 15/12)
>Percy Lewd: Magic Fingers (13/12)
It's all you can do to breathe. This experience, these nerves firing in these places, it’s entirely new. It’s entirely alien. Your body doesn’t know what to do, so it just- the overstimulation ends up resulting in a weak, ruined orgasm. You can barely feel any release, just the tickling sensation all over, even as you shoot off a few small strands into Percy's body. None of your horniness fades, and a distinct and strangely pleasant hollow feeling strikes you.

The pleasure is not one-sided. You can feel Percy's multiple penises pulsating and leaking fluids inside of you as they expand and contract asynchronously. He is visibly sucking in his lip and barely holding back from finishing.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Sensory Overload, Post-Orgasm (1, 2/14)
Even with his continued ministrations down below, you can't seem to get hard again after your weak orgasm. Unreleased pressure deep in your loins, mixing with the continuing assault on all your senses, the lust falls below. Never leaves, just below. Underneath the surface, like water under ice. Your penis withdraws into your slit, still throbbing.

It's hard to care about a ruined orgasm. Everything else in your body is releasing pleasurable impulses straight to your brain, all at once- and the laughter washes away all of your stress.

>Percy Lewd: Magic Fingers (8/14)
Finally, Percy finishes. You hear him gasp as the flood of his load fills you up. He's got you so full and tightly embraced that it has nowhere to escape, and you feel its thick presence inside. "Just... about done," he gasps, starting to pull himself back into shape. His limbs elastically compress back into their compact noodle forms. As his torso pulls back and you finally catch your breath, unable to even speak, he eases you off of the pillow nest and over the wooden floor, holding you with two arms.

The touch of the air makes you feel naked, for the first time since you got used to your reptilian scales.

"It's going to be... a mess when I pull back. Don't want to get it all over the bed," he explains when you dizzily look down at the wooden floor below. “Don’t worry, not going to drop you.”

Percy breaks the seal, shrinking his penises down as he pulls back. You can see them now, several white tendrils extending in a cluster from his crotch area. They pull back inside and the flesh folds around them, looking a little like the ring of a butthole. As soon as the blockage is gone, his cum leaks out of your ass and down your tail, onto the wooden floor. A splatter of your own cum is on his chest, on your chest, dripping down towards your joined crotches and merging with the sloppy mixture. You finally feel control of your tongue start to come back.

When your head lolls back with your eyes closed, he asks, "You all good?" You can only mumble something incoherent. "Yeah. Most people can't handle this more than once in a while. Makes it kind of hard to get a date." He laughs awkwardly and moves a pillow from the pile under your head as he lays you down. Once you're safely in place and recovering he slides back into his shell. "I'll get some water to help you wash up. Do you want anything to drink?" 

"Y-yes," panting, you lean back onto the pillow and close your eyes, letting your body recover from the harrowing, but enjoyable ordeal. Percy picks up the wooden cup from the floor and carries it downstairs.

When he comes back he has a bucket of water with a cloth draped over the side, and the cup is resting in one of his shell's holes- they make quite a convenient holder. He starts by handing you the cup. "Some Oran juice. It helps with exhaustion, and with getting it back up if you want a turn on top."

You take a sip of the beverage, which is tangy and refreshing. "T-that was intense, wow. I should c-clean up." Shakily, you try to sit up on your elbows. Percy waves an arm, lashing insistently at the air for you to lie back down.

"Take it easy, you're still shaking. I'll take care of it."

Without much choice once your arms give out, you flop back onto the pillow and let Percy wipe up his mess. He rubs down your tail with some cool water and a cloth, and wipes up where it leaked out onto the floor. It's a bit of an awkward silence lying there and getting cleaned up post coitus as if by a nursemaid. He spares no expense to aftercare, and the butterflies in your stomach are finally settling down. 

Wanting to break up the silence, you think to ask about his bakery. "So, h-how did y- you get started? I'm um, looking t-to get an oven to bake for my, m-my Guild."

Percy looks up from rubbing off a few spots of dried cum from your tail. "Oh, you are? I know a great metalworker in Tallspire. He's where I get all my cookware, pots pans and all."

You take another sip of juice to wet your throat and smile. "R- really? I was just g- ah, just going there to look. Do you um, that is, d-do you have directions?"

"Just ask around for Enzo. He's near the bridge," with one of his tendrils, Percy indicates a direction. The way to turn at the bridge, maybe? You’re not sure if you’ll remember, but you try to find a folder to file it under. It’s been a filling few days for your mental resources department. This tickle session has relieved a ton of stress you didn’t even know was wreaking havoc on your body.

“Thanks!” feeling more capable, you sit up and use your tail to balance back onto your haunches. With a playful look, you nudge Percy in the arm.  "I f-find it hard to believe such a vigorous t-tentacle monster can't get a date."

Wringing out the cloth into the bucket one last time, Percy hangs it on the side and smiles at your compliment. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, but it's not for everyone. I've had two people now tell me it's too tiring. A nice diversion, something new to try, but it’s not what anyone’s looking for long term you know?" He laughs it off, but you detect a small sigh. Reluctant acceptance of his situation. Sympathy pain runs through your heart strings.

Percy doesn't seem tired out at all. He folds his noodle arms in front of himself, nestling into a comfortable pile of spaghetti inside his shell while the two of you talk. "I-it might just take the whole Guild working t-together to tire you out," you point out, not sure yet exactly how to help his prospects. Another Shuckle probably wouldn’t mind.

"Yeah, you said you had a Guild,” he repeats, conversationally, tuning back into the subject. “Are you with the Espurr that arrived here?"

Shaking your head, you correct him. "No, no. I- I've met her though, we’re f- we’re- pals? Sort of. I- we, my Guild is from Stepstone." You take a pause to drink some more of the juice. It's energizing, and you can feel strength returning to your limbs. The effects diminishing your refractory period don't help with the pent up feeling you still have. "S-so you wanted to go another round?"

"I think I can handle one more," Percy turns around and squeezes his backside out of his shell, presenting it to you, his neck craning easily to peer back at you. There's only the one hole underneath, where his genitalia withdrew into. "What would you like to happen next? A turn on top, or?"

You consider the rear end on offer, but you really can't seem to get it up to top. "I- w-would you mind g-giving some oral?"

"Not a problem." Squeezing his butt back into his shell, Percy turns to face you and crawls up to position himself alongside your tail. His long, flexible neck cranes down and a pink tongue slides out to lick along your slit. That's all the coaxing your desperate dick needs to pop back out, poking him in the cheek.

"D-do you think you could move your butt over h-here?" you motion towards you with a claw. His parts look strange, and you can’t help but want a closer look. While he laps his tongue up and down your length, Percy slides himself fully back out of his shell, leaving it resting beside you, and twists around to present you with his goods.

With one claw, you reach up and rub at his entrance, turning on your fingers to get him worked up again. He wraps his mouth around the end of your dick and hums, the vibrations and tingling juices making your dick twitch and leak another gob of pre into his stretchy throat.

Small white strands poke out of Percy's own slit. You met before, if only briefly, when he pulled out of you. Such a strange genitalia, wrapping around your claw of their own accord and enjoying the sensation of your own magic touch. Do Shuckle feel each others’ enzymes, you wonder, or would this be the first time he’s had a ‘return experience’? Since he seems to like it, you pump it up to the max.

Whole body shuddering, Percy answers your technique by diving down, taking all of you inside his throat at once. His head proves to be just as flexible as the rest of him, neck molding against you snugly into a perfect fit. Even his head- it shrinks to press into the folds of your slit, leaving you feeling full.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Round 2, Overstimulation (16, 9/14)
>Percy Lewd: Round 2, Magic Fingers (7/14)
This time there is no stimulation dispersed throughout your body to lessen the impact he has on your dick. No sooner has he gone down on your completely, than your aching blue balls finally erupt with everything they have stored away, eager to expel what the ruined orgasm held back. With no gag reflex to speak of Percy systematically gulps down your entire load as your dick keeps pulsing. He doesn't pull back up until you're dry.

Percy cums at the same time, unable to hold out against the influence of your touch. His little hyphoid penises expand all at once, spraying white spunk all over you. His penises shrink down after they coat you and the floor, retreating back inside their cavity. With a final popping sound, Percy pulls free of your dick, which is remarkably clean. Head elastically swelling back into shape, he wipes a small dribble from his mouth while your lizard retreats into its cave. "That touch is something else. Is that what it feels like when I get others off?" he wonders. Seems you two had your minds on the same thing.

"P-p-probably something li-like that," you sigh out, breathing heavily. That time wasn't as exhausting, not without the full body treatment, but after two orgasms your dick is feeling sore and worn out. At the same time you finally feel relief. Full body relaxation falls over you, and the pressure built up from Spring's teasing is gone.

As you enjoy the afterglow, Percy grabs the cloth again to clean things up. "That was fun. You know, Guild requests usually have a reward. I didn't have one listed but how would you like some baking to take with you?"

Right, the request. You got so caught up in his- everything, you almost forgot this was sort of almost a Guild job. "S-sure, yeah! We're t-traveling to Tallspire. So, i-. Is it o- okay if I request something good fo- for eating on the road?"

"I've got a few kinds of bread that should last okay. I'll pack you a bag with samples of each."

After you get cleaned up and down the rest of the Oran juice, Percy shells up and helps you down the stairs so you don't stumble and take a fall. The two of you go out into the shop and he takes down the closed sign for his break, unlocking the door. While he's packing a paper bag with bread, Spring and Gwen poke their heads inside. Gwen gives a sniff and pushes her way in, walking over to smell the sex on you.

"Hrm. Quest go good?" her deep voice rumbles.

"Y-yeah,” you grin. “I got us some food for the road."

Spring comes in as well and leans up against the wall, crossing her arms and smirking. "I expected to hear stuff, but not you laughing like a maniac. What the heck did you do to him?" She asks Percy in jest.

He smoothly responds, "If you come back sometime, maybe I'll demonstrate." Percy passes the bag of food to you over the counter and you take it, settling it into a comfortable position onto your back.

"T-thanks Percy. You really know h-how to make a guy's dough rise." He manages to keep a straight face, but Spring snickers behind you.

"You're not so bad yourself. Let me know when you get that bakery running, I'd love to try some of what you make."

"D-didn't you already?" You tease on your way out with a wave. Percy’s easy smile disappears behind the closing door, and the road out of town lay before you. Regrouped with the girls on either side, Gwen brushes her head up against you and you give her some scratches under the chin and look west. "T-time to go to the big city. Also! I l-learned about someone who can g-get me baking supplies there."

Bumping you with a hip, Spring takes the initiative and takes the lead down the street while Gwen is busy enjoying your scritches. "You just make friends everywhere you go, don't you?"

"G-gotta get famous somehow."

Gwen opens an eye and sees Spring walking ahead. She gets up and urges you forward, and you join her as she reminds. "No forget. Not shopping trip. We look for proof for fake bounty." The cobblestone road that stretches west beyond Windmill Village curves between tall walls of grass, running like a river of stone between each hill that rises from the earth to obstruct construction- or maybe guide it into a more scenic route. Patches of pink and blue roadside flowers grow on either side, where the paving breaks up the grass canopy and lets extra sunlight reach them. The next leg of the journey is underway.

Behind the two girls, you walk along the rough and primitive road to Tallspire. All stones, carved by hand- or more likely by Pokemon with something naturally more effective. The tower of the castle the town is named for is visible in the distance, whenever the hills and gaps line up just right. Knowing who is inside fills you with a feeling of unease, like you're about to stick your claws into a beehive. "Spring?" you get her attention, and the fire monkey turns to confidently walk backwards.

"What do you need, shrimp?"

"D-do you know anything about the former winners, or- or what they do? What they're allowed t-to do?" you ask her, trying to learn whatever you can.

Sticking her tongue into her cheek and rubbing at the inside in thought, Spring rests her hands on her hips and looks up at the sky. Her feet are steady, and she doesn’t trip. "I haven't gone out of my way to learn much about it, don’t really follow the exploits of retirees. Usually if you meet someone who's evolved, they're a former Guild member, and they're not supposed to join new Guilds. That’s something they’re not allowed to do I guess- can’t have them stealing the thunder of the next generation."

Gwen chooses this moment to interject gruffly, "Persephone." She doesn't pronounce the name exactly right, but you get what she means. Spring looks at her curiously. "Persephone. Is Flapple. She live in village." You recall meeting her, outside Victor's library. According to Victor she studies Pokemon fossils and the Archen boy he likes helps her gather them.

"I- is she a former Guild member or leader?" You think Victor would have mentioned it if she was someone important. But maybe he didn't know much about the outside, if the King kept him to himself. Everything picked up from books.

Gwen only offers a helpless shake of her head at your question. Her ears bob from side to side. "Use to be Guild. All know. Not know how. Or… no how. Who. Have to ask."

"Guess you have someone to ask then. Bet there are more in Tallspire. Lots of Pokemon there, all different kinds. But who knows who used to work with King, right?" Spring turns on her heel to resume walking forward just in time to step around a signpost announcing your group's arrival at the town limits. The sign guarantees no Mystery Dungeons have been found in the safe area around the settlement.

A lot like around Windmill Village, the grass fields have been trimmed and cleared to make room for buildings. You can see berry orchards and vineyards on either side of the road, which becomes more cared for as you go. Loose dirt and cobblestone give way to a smooth, paved surface as you near a short, idyllic bridge that spans a quiet stream. Claws scraping against the surface, you reach out to railings for balance, standing up to take in your surroundings.

The buildings across the water look like they were modeled after medieval fantasy. Something out of picture books and legends. Its claims to being the root of civilization in this world are no façade, however. For the first time since you set foot in this world it feels as though you are stepping into a city.

There are blocks of buildings in concentric rings around the castle at the center. Pokemon of every shape and Type are walking the streets, and more of them wear accessories and pieces of clothing than in the smaller villages. Statements of fashion. Signs of leisure, production and disposable income.

A Ledian with a metal helmet and spear stands next to the other side of the bridge. She looks like the type of city guard you would see in one of your video games back home. "What brings you to Tallspire?" She asks when the three of you reach her. Her casual posture and voice don't make it seem like she's stopping you for being suspicious. If you had to guess she's just bored from standing guard all day and looking for conversation. 

You slip past the two girls ahead of you to introduce yourself before Spring can get a chance. After all, you are still the official leader. "H-hello miss. We're the Hoopa Guild, and w-we're here for some bounties."

"Anan bring. We catch Gastly," announces Gwen after you. The Ledian guard smiles and directs you down the street, behind her to your right.

"Right! Anan told me to give the Guild a message when they came. The bounty office is just that way around the bend, can't miss it. They have a reward waiting."

"T-thank you, miss."

The three of you part ways with the guardbug and follow her directions. She waves as you leave, and you wave back. Friendlier than a lot of human cities you’ve been in. Down the curving road that follows the stream, you see the building she described. It is boxy and intimidating looking, marked by a no-nonsense sign that says it's the jail.

Judging by the size it must only be a small jail for holding minor offenders or prisoners waiting for transfer, like the holding cells in a police precinct.

Inside is a clinical, cold grey building. The layout reminds you of sheriff offices in old westerns. There is a bounty board on the wall, barred off jail cells in the back and the jailer's desk. Behind it sits an intimidating Lairon, who fixes you with the most terrifying look when you enter. Behind her, in one of the jail cells, the Gastly's bottle is sitting on a wooden bench.

The jailer doesn't greet you, waiting to see whether you're there for her or for the board. There’s the big city attitude you were expecting. Though you guess she must get a lot of annoying roommates and visitors. You go up to the desk and stand up on your hind legs to see over it. "P-pardon me. We're the Hoopa Guild and w-we came here to collect the bounty for the g-ghost."

There is a metal plate on the desk with what you assume is her name written on it: Cree. When she speaks you're expecting it to be sharp and fierce, but she's a lot quieter than she looks. That steely gaze must be her resting face. "I've been expecting someone here about that. The Hoopa Guild are you?" She tilts her head to the side and gets a thorough look at you and your guild members. "Usually those end up being really quirky. What's your gimmick?"

Spring bumps you with her hip and taunts you playfully, "Well, why don't you tell her your gimmick."

“Uh, m-maybe in a sec, business first,” you respond. While the two of you are talking with Cree at the desk, Gwen walks away to inspect the bounty board.

Cree pulls a chest trunk out from under her desk with her mouth and nudges it open. With one claw she picks up a bundled bag of berries and tosses it over. Spring catches it readily. Inside are a Bluk berry, a Shuca berry, and a Kasib berry. "This is the reward for bringing in that troublemaking specter. Thanks, you guys." Definitely not how she looked at first. You give her a bashful smile, feeling a little bad for judging her appearance earlier.

Gwen returns with a couple of new posters and holds them out to you with her mouth. You take them and take a look. One is a black and white Zigzagoon named Hustle who is wanted to dealing illegal substances. It says he fled towards the desert. The other one is for a group of Pokemon who are dragging others away to a Mystery Dungeon to take advantage of them.

While you read you try to broach a bit of an awkward topic, "S-so about that Morgrem bounty. It'll have to b-be taken down. He joined another guild."

Cree's eyes widen in surprise. She huffs in frustration. "He did what? Who? I hate it when crooks use Guilds as a free pass." 

You cough and poke your foreclaws together. "W-we tested him with the Mesprit Guild's p-patron abilities. And w-we found he was actually innocent."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Cree calms herself down. "Alright. Still would be nice to be able to see proof, but Guilds do what they do," she rolls her eyes and an awkward silence falls over the office for a few moments before you clear your throat.

Trying to move the conversation along, you take out your Guild Card and show it to her. Next to you, you can practically feel Spring smirk at the look on Cree's face. " You uh, s-so you asked and- t-the gimmick is Hoopa makes all our fetishes p-public and... a-and I'm kind of a hopeless slut." Your straightforwardness catches her off guard and she remains speechless.

Gwen speaks up, teasing, "Is true. When we meet, he cum on my face."

Spring snorts out a sudden laugh, clutching her gut in shock. "Seriously? How did that happen?"

You swiftly cut back in, "D-do, um, do you know what the last Hoopa Guild's g-gimmick was?" Shrinking back down a little behind the desk, you instinctively conceal your blush, even though it can't be seen through your dark scales. Old habits. You feel a little ache down below but it's too soon after that exhausting session with Percy and you don't accidentally get hard.

Clearing her throat, Cree ignores your revelation and gladly accepts the change of topic. "Nothing like that. They were a traveling circus, and apparently kept pranking and stealing from the other Guilds." From what you know of Hoopa's other abilities you can imagine how effectively they were used for that.

Taking the bounty posters in hand, you give them another glance over and decide to ask about them before you decide what to do next. "B-by the way what k-kind of substances are illegal?" You put Hustle's bounty on the table for her to see.

"Certain kinds of berry concentrates are controlled because of their side effects," she answers.

"Like that Belue juice I had the other night. It's not illegal, but it has its own side effects. When you' drink Belue you get really, really mindmeltingly good orgasms." Spring describes in a husky voice, causing Cree to shift back and forth a little.

"Right. Only some are more serious. Sitrus is strong medicine, but it makes you extremely vulnerable to hypnosis and possession. Some can cause body parts to grow or shrink for a while, and Pokemon use high concentrations to, well. You can imagine."

"S-so this Hustle guy was selling p-powerful controlled berry concentrations?"

Cree confirms it with a slow nod of her heavy steel head. "Without a license or any kind of official regulation, sometimes with other things mixed in. We have an apothecary in town where you can get these berry potions legally. It was really undercutting her business too."

You quickly recall where you heard that Zigzagoon's name before. He was the other one- the one Ester helped escape. It sounds like everyone thinks he was a crook, but Ester seemed to think he only dealt in safe things. How much of each side is true, you don’t really know yet. But the King might be using misinformation again to post a fake bounty, or exaggerate this guy’s crimes for some reason. You could do some asking around.

You show the girls the post for the Mystery Dungeon the bangers are using as their base. "D-do you think we can handle this?"

"I think we probably can. Gwen and I are badasses, after all. You'd just be icing on the cake," Spring answers eagerly, looking across you to Gwen.

Raising her head, Gwen snorts out a hot breath through her nostrils. There’s a determined glare in her eyes. "Yes. Bad Pokemon. We should stop them."

Out of curiosity you lift up the bulletin board against the wall to see if there are any lewd requests scribbled on the back, but there aren't any. Cree doesn't seem to understand what you're doing, but Spring has a wide smirk plastered on her face and Gwen is giving you a... not disappointed, but curious look. "C-cree?” you ask, “Do you mind if I c-call you that?"

"It is my name," the Lairon answers flatly.

"Oh, um, y-yeah, right, I thought- just- th- title or-“ you trail off and start over, “S-so um, did you used to be in a Guild?"

The question makes Cree break into a grin, and her teeth look like a chainsaw at rest. You quietly make a note that Lairon blowjobs are dangerous business. "You bet I was. Mew's Guild, two contests ago. Found I really liked keeping bad people off the street. Now here I am." Gwen grunts in approval. You can tell from her subtle shift in stance she's taken a liking to this girl now. She’s usually tense, but she relaxes around people she likes.

"W-well this gang in the r-rape dungeon sounds d-dangerous. I think with t-two experienced fighters we can t-take it." Scooping the posters back up, you roll them and tuck them into Gwen’s bag.

"Good luck," she wishes you on your way out.

You exit the bounty office along with your partners and playfully scritch Gwen under her chin. "It's cute when you t-tease me. I like it. A-and um, that was actually Hoopa's fault. He t-totally meant for that to happen!"

Cheeky as always, Spring can't help but get a word in. She leans closer and slides an arm around your shoulders, her broad grasp encompassing much of your slender frame. "So what, Hoopa just decided to fluff you up a bit before sending you on your way?"

"Y-yeah kind of."

The fact that Hoopa's as much of a perv as you are comes as a surprise to her, and Spring stops to scratch her chin. But she quickly regains her stride and shrugs it off, "Sounds like a fun guy. Always heard he had a sense of humor, didn’t know he was so dirty."

"B-by the way, were you um,” twiddling your fingers together, you look down at the paved street below. “Were you f-flirting with me when you offered me that berry juice? Since it can c-cause lewd things."

"Maybe a little,” with a wave of her hand, Spring brushes it off with casual ease. “Mostly to mess with Gwen, but I don't need to do that anymore. And also I just like the juice." Another noncommittal shrug rolls over her shoulders. "Playing around with berry side effects can be fun though. Especially when you make a game out of it."

"Maybe we try sometime," Gwen offers, and Spring joins you in giving her a bit of affection, reaching past you to scratch behind the ear.

"Break in the reborn friendship with some benefits? Murdoch must be rubbing off on you."

Before you go wandering into a dungeon, you decide to find Enzo's place. Percy said he was close to the bridge in… some direction? So you must not be far. Help from some passing Pokemon refreshes your terrible memory for directions, and they send you to the curve on the other side of the bridge. Sure enough there's a metalworks shop there. Up front is just a swinging door, sort of like an old saloon, and you can feel the heat swelling up from inside when you get close.

Gwen stops and backs away, taking a seat. "Too hot. Wait here."

"You think that's too hot you should wait and see what two fire types can do to a bedroom," Spring quips behind her while she leads the way inside. Gwen growls sensually, almost more like a cat purring.

The inside of the smithy is as you expected. There's a prominent forge where a Charizard in a sky-blue apron is heating a piece of metal for… some kind of tool. It isn’t yet formed enough for you to take a guess at its purpose. Just a chunk of red hot metal ready to be molded to his purposes. There are pieces of merchandise on the wall, like hammers and hedge cutters, even just buckets.

Going up to him and waving to get his attention, you get one of his claws raised to tell you to wait. Backing away, you give him space to work. Waiting allows you the time to watch as he pulls out the piece of metal and starts hammering it into shape. Sparks fly, but neither he nor Spring seem to be concerned. You shouldn’t be either, you guess. Everyone in the room is a Fire Type. Just some old human reflexes that cause you to flinch when one of the little red flecks of flame flies at your face.

It looks like he's making some kind of wall hanging torch mount, once it begins to take form. The loud ringing of the hammer eventually fades as he finishes what he was doing and sets the project to cool.

Enzo lays down his hammer on a stone countertop and walks over. Charizard are human sized, which means he towers over both you and Spring. The giant fire lizard holds out a claw as big as your body and speaks in a too loud voice from years of hammers ringing in the ears. "Welcome to Enzo's metalworks! What can I do ya for?" You take hold of one of his fingers and let your own do their work, which causes him to shiver a little. "Huh. That's quite the touch you have there, kid."

"T-thanks," you let go as he pulls his claw back and rubs it, looking at his finger bewildered. Playing with your tongue against the hard inside of your bony cheeks, you broach the reason for your visit as straightforwardly as you can.  "S-so um, Percy referred me to you. He s-said you made him an oven and cookware and um, well, I- my Guild is just starting up. I was wondering, h-how much this costs?"

Pulling his eyes away from his finger, Ezno settles on you. His gaze is friendly and cheerful, a stark contrast to some of the Charizards you’ve seen on television at tournament battles. A big dopey grin on his face reminds you more of a Dragonite, and he pats his belly idly in a drumming beat while he stands. "A Guild looking for startup? Lucky you, I just so happen to give new Guilds a discount. Great for business when the next big thing is using your product!"

The good news has your tail unconsciously sliding back and forth across the floor. Then you remember you can't afford even the cheapest things. "T-the problem is, um, I have no money. J-just berries right now. Maybe I could d-do you a favor?" You try your best to wink seductively. Enzo keeps his cool and doesn't seem to pick up on your vibes.

Instead. he densely agrees to the letter of your offer. "Sure! I have a few deliveries you could do for me, my assistants are busy taking something out of town. That way I can keep working on my commissions. The castle gardener is waiting for new garden shears, and once this light fixture finishes it goes to the apothecary's place."

Deflating when he brushes off your flirtations, you fold your foreclaws in front of you. "W-what would that get me?"

"For a delivery I could give you some pots and pans, cookware stuff. The oven I can't just give away, that would be 300 Poke after the discount. Could sell some of those berries to the apothecary if you need the money." 300, huh? Curious about your financial prospects, you take a look at the bounty posting again. On the back there is a reward listing for 100 Poke per outlaw caught from the gang. If you can get everybody and bring them back it would be a nice payout, and cover your new oven.

"I think I can g-get that much together,” you mumble to yourself. Perking up, you ask, “D-do you think you'd be able to deliver it t-to Stepstone Village?"

With a vigorous nod, Enzo assures you, "Of course! Not everyone has the carts and muscle to haul big orders around. I have some assistants who bring things out to other towns for me, you’d just have to wait until they come back from their current job."

Taking a slow walk around Enzo and sizing him up hungrily while you discuss business, Spring puts her paw on her hip. "You know, I think Murdoch was hoping the favor would me more along the lines of your first offer," she suggests, a lewd grin on her face.

"First offer?" Enzo asks, unaware of the verbal opening he left when introducing himself. 

“Oh, you know,” she answers, though the look on his face suggests anything but. “His fingers felt pretty nice on your claws, didn’t they?”

"Is there anywhere t-that my fingers would feel especially good?" playing into Sprig’s angle, you lean forwards and arch your back, wiggling your tail up in the air. He is a pretty cute dragon, and the way the apron hangs around his belly accentuates his shape well.

Enzo reaches up and runs a claw along the horns jutting from the back of his head. Smooth and covered in a layer of red-orange pigment that matches the rest of his body, they form a U-shaped crest at the top of his head. "You know it's been a while since I had a good horn massage. I could toss in some cutlery if you feel like it."

Spring fights back the urge to say something, and lets Enzo remain oblivious for now. She bumps you with her hip. "Why don't you give him a rub? Sounds like you'll get a nice spoon in return."

You playfully bump Spring back and whisper to her, "I'll spoon you." Before she can keep it going, you get your word in edgewise and gladly accept Enzo's offer. "D-definitely. I'll massage your horns, y-your feet or even s-somewhere in between those. Y-you work our steel, we work your steel, l-like that back scratching thing."

Enzo steps away from the forge and takes a seat next to his stone counter so that you can climb onto it to reach the back of his head. You use your clingy lizard claws to drag yourself up and take a seat behind him, straddling the back of his neck. Behind you, your tail drapes over the smooth handle of his hammer. Realizing you might pop a boner, you rethink the position and scoot back a little, resting your tush against the handle instead. At least until he gets aroused first. Then your accidental boners are fair game.

Pulling herself up a few feet down the counter, Spring sits and watches your performance, not making any moves and leaving it to you. "You know if you keep this up you'll start to get a reputation... as a masseuse."

"M-maybe. We're still doing the d-delivery job after this," you insist. A reputation for slutting around might not be too bad. Pokemon around here seem a lot more open about it than humans are! But you want to be known as dependable, too.

Letting the sensation of Hoopa's power flow into your fingers you take hold of the bases of Enzo's horns and start suggestively running your claws up and down them, curled into tight o-shapes. You keep the power low for now, so you don't overload or startle him.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Advantage (7/10)
Enzo hums, you can feel the sensation through the back of his neck, warm orange scales nestled between your feet. He's enjoying the stroking, but you peek down and see no hints of him pitching a tent in his apron.

Your junior on the other hand can't help but start to peek out under your kilt. It doesn't help when Spring reaches over and starts to stroke a sensitive spot at the base of your tail, holding one finger just barely touching it and tracing patterns on your back. Wearing a playfully cruel leer, she visibly enjoys watching you squirm and try not to alert Enzo.

"You've done massage jobs before?" the bigger fire lizard asks you, still innocently enjoying your ministrations.

"Oh, o-only once or twice. But I've been told I have m-magic claws. So I- I want to make Pokemon all over feel g-good... all over," another slow stroke up his horns, and you find yourself yearning to wander further down. "D-do you mind if I um, branch out and work on your neck and shoulders? You're- it's just so l-long, and thicker than anyone I've been with. I'd love t- to practice on people of different shapes. I can even uh, use my feet. And keep going up here with my hands."

"Sure. Go ahead," Enzo's voice has a slight moan to it. You run your hindclaws up and down the back of his neck and dig deep into his shoulders, letting your magical touch flow down through your hindclaws as well. Thick, smooth scale accepts the pressure, working out tension in his neck muscles from craning over a hot forge all day.

When you don't protest to her sensual touches at the base of your tail, Spring pulls her hand back. At first you think she's stopping until you look over and see her sucking on her finger. Drawing the digit out of her mouth, she slips her hand under your tail and slides over so that it's hidden behind the two of you. Without a word, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively to see if you want her to keep going.

Even though Enzo is unaware of Spring's lewdness he could look back at any time. With Spring's finger probing under your tail, you have a difficult time concentrating, and your massage along Enzo's neck slows down. If he notices- that could make him look back, and you're already getting hard in your kilt. The jig would be up far too soon. Subtly, you shake your head at Spring. She edges her hand back out from under your rump and makes a pouting face. "N-no need to get jealous, I c-can still give you a massage later," you tell her softly. Reaching out, you give her a consoling rub on the shoulder without turning off the fingers. A shiver runs through her and she has to bite her lip to avoid making a sound.

Enzo looks back behind him and you tuck up behind your legs to hide your erection. "Is everything okay?"

"J-just great, n-nothing's wrong!" You take both claws and get back to work.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Advantage (13/10)
Spurred on by Spring's brazen antics, even after turning them down, you let your fingers and toes turn up and send pleasurable tingles down through Enzo's body. Now he seems to be feeling it, wiggling in his seat. He smooths out the front of his apron with his claws, but you can't see any tent peaking yet. He has an impressive resistance to lewdness.

The neck isn't doing enough to get him hot and bothered. Getting an idea, you inch towards the edge of the counter and perch yourself at it.

Pretending it's only a clumsy accident, you fall off the edge and slide down between Enzo's back and the counter, letting your fingers trail their magic all the way down. The sensation shooting straight through his spine has Enzo arch his back and you slide easily between his wings, landing on the base of his tail with your hands on his huge hips. "O-oh, I slipped!" You give his hips a little rub and admire how smooth he is. Enzo is at first speechless. You think you're starting to get at him, because you see him adjust his apron.

"Sorry about that. Let me help you back up," he turns to look behind him, craning his neck over his shoulder. You can see a subtle blush around his cheeks and at the base of his horns. Though his scales are thick, the heat inside his body is strong enough to produce a molten glow.

Laughing nervously, you swat away his reaching claws. "D-don't worry. I was going to w-work my way down eventually. Y-you see, a massage usually goes d-down the back all the way."

"Oh. Alright, let me make it easier for you," leaning forwards, Enzo lowers himself down onto the ground, lying on his belly. You slide forward, bumping into his wings again. You don't think he noticed your erection poking his back through your kilt, or at least he never said anything. Turning around on his lower back, you begin to massage the base and length of his tail, hoping proximity to his naughty bits has more of an effect. Spring sits on the edge of the counter above and watches the flame on the end of Enzo's tail flicker and dance. Her legs kick in the air.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Advantage (11, 17)
You catch Enzo's hips underneath you wriggling a little bit and he slightly lifts up his lower end. He might finally be starting to pop a stiffy and need more room for it.

Feeling a growing sense of thrill at being the one in control for a change, you stretch out to get a look under his tail while you keep working your claws. With his tail raised while you rub it you can see his butt, and a genital slit underneath it with some of his large pink shaft poking out.

Enzo has his eyes closed. Despite his blush, his expression remains relaxed, more contended by the massage than concerned with any primal sexual needs he’s feeling creep into his consciousness. Hoping to force Enzo to realize for himself rather than force it, you turn back around and use your hindclaws to keep a hold on his tail's base. You stretch forward down his back like a cat, working your touch up his torso until you get to the base of his wings and start to massage those.

"Oh!" Enzo's tail stretches out upwards, almost knocking Spring back in her seat on the counter. "Careful with the wings there, that tickles. Erm," Enzo looks back and realizes his rump is up in the air, practically mooning Spring. "Sorry about that. I uh, think this massage is getting me a little..." Self-consciously adjusting his position, pulling his apron back down, he attempts to conceal the a bulge underneath. You slide back with his motions, landing straddling the base of his tail again.

"Well this is embarrassing. Um, the massage was nice though! I think that's enough for the cutlery I promised," he tries to say, shying away from what he must think is a social faux pas of his own. You don't stop though, rubbing up and down the sides of his belly as far as your claws can stretch. You keep up the pressure beneath your touch, and his erection twitches under his apron.

"D-don't be embarrassed. We can keep going, if- if you want. Should I stop?" Temptation is building up in his body. You can feel it, tangibly. He’s incredibly warm to the touch beneath your claws.

>Murdoch Charm: (12/10)
Enzo covers his face with his other claw and groans into his palm. "Your massage is really nice. But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"It- actually i-it's pretty flattering. Where I come from this is a- a really high compliment to a masseuse," in the porn films you’ve watched anyways.

"Really?” Face peeking out from beneath his claw, Enzo sniffs the air. Even without you tapping into it intentionally, your arousal has filled the air with tempting pheromones that hang heavy in the heat. “You don't think it's weird at all?"

Your tail coils around his, but his is too thick for you to reach any of the goods. You give Enzo an encouraging little scritch around the sides of his belly. "N-no way. I feel obligated to t-take care of it even, a masseuse who leaves a client feeling so un- unrelaxed hasn't done a good job." Spring is loving your performance and giggling behind you.

>Enzo Lewd: (2/10)
>Murdoch Charm: Arousal Advantage (20, 2/10)
At last, he lets his arms rest at his sides. "I mean, I don't want you to feel bad. I've just never really done anything like this before." You can hear and feel the tension and resistance melting out of Enzo, each part of him relaxing in turn, a wave running down his body. The tail underneath you, tensely holding you up, drapes itself across the furniture.

"H-how about, I just keep going a-and if you say to stop I'll stop?"

"Sure. Yeah, okay. I should just- lock the door," seizing a final moment of clarity, Enzo gets up off the floor with you still straddling his tail. It’s a strange waddle, but he reaches and locks the door to make sure nobody interrupts your private session. Without his efforts to keep it contained, a thick rod is now lifting up his entire apron. Sliding off of his tail, you move around up front to take stock of what you have to work with. His thick shaft is about as wide around as you are. There's no way it's going anywhere inside you or Spring. Enzo looks down at you with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “The whole size thing is kind of…” he begins, rubbing his belly nervously.

"That’s what a team’s for, right? I hope you don't want me to just sit here and watch?" Spring says, tilting forwards in her seat eagerly.

"Do you m-mind if I light some incense?" You offer, looking up at Enzo. A wiggle of your backside signifies your meaning, accentuating the trailing markings that run down your back.

He thinks it over and then shakes his head. "No, I don't mind. That's fine." With his permission you allow your Sweet Scent to slowly fill the room. It mixes with the natural pheromone already heady in the thick air. Enzo's cock twitches as its effects sink into his senses. Reaching up to lift his apron, you get a waft of his own masculine scent. You hear him murmuring to himself, "I'm not so sure this is a massage anymore."

You invite Spring inside with a suave wave of the claw. "L-ladies first."

She walks up and flicks you on the nose as she ducks underneath. "Don't be a dork about it." Spring wraps her arms around is wide length and runs her hands up and down. You take a position on the opposite side and mirror her motions, leaning your full body against it. The surface is a deep pink, darker than your own, and it’s radiating enough heat that you bet you could warm yourself by it in the winter.

"Y-you can rub us up and down it if you w-w-want," you offer to Enzo, imagining the two of you being used like a dangling pair of jerk-off rags.

Enzo rubs the back of his neck. "I'm fine, you two go at your own pace. I wouldn't want to hurt you, by grabbing you."

"Suit yourself, big boy," Spring makes ample use of her simian agility to clamber up his length, to reach the tip at head level. He's starting to dribble small bubbles of pre, which she licks up while her prehensile feet play with the edges of his slit for lack of a set of balls. Unable to climb without digging in your claws to sensitive areas, you focus on the lower end for now. You kiss and lick the broad base of his girth, flicking your tongue into the space between his slit and his shaft. His scent conjures thoughts of a warm garage in your mind, on a sweaty summer day and with the lingering scent of fuel and oil in the air. Though you never were much of an autobody guy, there is a certain exotic familiarity.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Advantage (10)
>Spring Lewd: (7)
>Enzo Lewd: (18)
Despite your two-pronged attack Enzo squeezes his eyes shut and holds on, grabbing at the floor with his curling, clawed feet while leaning back. His thin arms, despite their size, rest behind him to hold him up, aided by the trunk of his tail. Arched with his neck raised and gasping into the air, he endures your work in brutal anticipation. You lean back while hanging onto his shaft from below, catching any dribbles of pre that escape from Spring with your tongue. There's no shortage of it from his large tool.

"D-deep breaths, Enzo," you coach when you hear him suck in a deep breath and hold it in. He listens and lets it go, breathing in deeply and slowly. “That’s right. Just- just relax,” you hold your snout against the side of his tool, speaking the vibrations into it. "After all t-this is still a horn massage, r-right?" You slide one of your hindclaws down below and curl it into a ball to keep any sharp bits away from his sensitive areas. Then you use it to probe at Enzo's rear entrance, letting your magic fingers send tingles all through his body.

With one of your other claws, now hanging on only by two, you grab Spring and push her head against his head, turning your fingers up full force.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Advantage (11)
>Enzo Lewd: (7)
Under your persistent care, Enzo loses his composure and blows his top. Spring is hit with a flood of dragon cum straight down her throat.

>Spring Fitness: Advantage (15, 3/12)
>Murdoch Fitness: (4)
She manages not to choke or gag on it, gulping down her fill and then pulling her head back, easily overpowering your grip. The twitching of his huge cock causes you to lose your hold and fall on the floor under his apron. Not a far way down, but enough to knock the breath out of you for just a moment. The rest of what Spring couldn't swallow pours down on you, a thick white coating drizzling your belly, face and the smaller pink shaft poking out of your kilt. His spunk trickles into your slit and over your ass, following the pull of gravity.

Dragons are very productive.

"Oh geez. Are you guys okay down there?" Enzo unties his apron and takes it off to give you some fresh air. In the forge, it hardly helps.

Spring hops down from his shrinking shaft with a smirk. "After we walk out of here we're really going to get a reputation for this," she leans down to pat you condescendingly on the cheek, and steps out of the cum puddle. Her hand is sticky with the fluids that were all over your face, and she licks her fingers clean smugly.

Rolling over onto your back, you look up at Enzo, covered in his spunk. Wiping the other side of your face clear, you curiously follow Spring’s lead and lick it off of your hand. It's thick and salty, without a potent flavor. "S-so how was the massage?” you give him a gooey smile. “What would you rate our s-service out of five?"

Embarrassed, the bigger lizard looks away. The bases of his horns have gone from orange to blazing red. He stammers out a response. "I guess I'd g-give you a four,” Getting someone else to blush and stutter makes you feel really good. His eyes settle on the door and a grimace falls onto his face imagining you walking out of it like that. “If you were planning on doing this you... probably should have brought some towels."

" O-oh yeah? I’ll take a four- y-you're n-not so bad yourself. Um, oh- yeah!” Post-nut clarity reminds you rather suddenly that there is still business to conduct. “We should r-really wash up. And then go get you y-your money for the oven." You smell heavily of male sex, and inside your dragon-soaked kilt you're still as hard as a rock. Spring doesn't look as hopelessly aroused, but she's definitely wet between the legs. And she isn't much cleaner than you are, either.

"We'd better get this off before it dries into my fur," she admits.

Enzo looks around and sees the barrel of water he uses to fill his cooling trough. "You two can use that. Is that okay?"

"It'll have to be," Spring climbs up the side and slips into the water, hanging onto the edges of the barrel like a tub. "Come on in. The water's lukewarm." Lukewarm water for a fire type. You get in after her, and she wastes no time before she playfully dunks you under the water. You flail back up, sputtering as she plays with your still hard cock with her feet under the water. You moan and start to feel yourself lose focus, only for her to pull away at the last second leaving you aching without release. "That was for shoving my head down earlier, twerp. You can get off after you make it up to me later," She tells you in a husky voice while Enzo awkwardly tries to wipe up the floor puddle with his apron.

"Take as long as you need, just got to uh, tidy up here,” he rambles. “I'll have a set of cutlery ready for you when you get back."

Another productive venture under your belt, you lean back and relax in the water.

Chapter Text

With Spring by your side, you emerge from Enzo's metalworking shop. Your first steps into the outside air feel bracingly cold compared to the heat of the business’ interior, the wind brushing over your soaking wet scales and sending a chill up your spine. Uncomfortably hard, you crawl on all fours to hide it under your damp and freshly washed kilt.

Outside, you find Gwen laying in the sun by the river and relaxing. Her ear flicks and one eye opens at jingle of bells above the door. Your pooch partner stretches and flicks her tail back and forth before coming up to you and licking you across the face.  "Hope you saving some for me. Or you will start to make me jealous." She walks behind you, tail waving low and running its fluffy softness under your chin.

"H-haha, yes. Oh- yeah. I-I guess I'm recovered enough to p-plow into the ground now huh?" Gwen makes a sultry growl, her voice of agreement, as she sits down at your heel. Spring is watching you squirm in anticipation with a smug smirk. Needing something to focus on before you accidentally push yourself over the edge with lewd thoughts, you think about the things you have left to do. "W-we should..." Still feeling dirty and anxious about smelling like sex around all these Pokemon with sharp senses, you crawl down to the side of the river where Gwen was relaxing and dip your head in. The cold water helps clear away the horniness more than the barrel in Enzo's shop. That was warm from sitting in the smithy all day, this stuff is bracingly cold.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Cold Water (19, 2/8)

You rub the water down your neck and stomach to clean up any remaining smell of Enzo's dragon spunk. But your arousal is still teetering at a fever pitch after the icy dunk and you have to lift your rear up when walking not to drag your cock on the grass and pavement. Making an awkward grimace, you look to your partners. "L-let's go to the apothecary next. The c-castle is in the middle so it- it should be on the way?"

The girls walk next to you through the strangely human feeling streets of Tallspire. It's all medieval looking, but it feels so familiar and so far away at the same time- it's uncanny. Pokemon you pass give you looks for your weird posture. A Torracat and Riolu in armor walking the opposite direction look back at you and you blush self consciously. Keeping your butt up high to stop your cock from dragging leaves your kilt open for a clear view of your dangling parts from the back by anyone who looks at you from behind. When you notice she’s fallen behind, you realize Spring is taking full advantage of the show and licking her lips.

You thank your lucky stars when the trip ends and you get to the apothecary's shop. A hand painted wood sign marks it as stand out against the other buildings. The sign has a painting of a Spritzee's mask on it and big bold letters in hot pink that read: Kalina's Curealls. Standing, you try to keep your erection from showing under your kilt again. The embarrassing walk and public display behind you did nothing to suppress your arousal. One claw on the wooden door pushes it open.

The interior is dim and lit by candles, smelling of incense. Under the concealing smell you detect hints of all kinds of Berry scents. Wood shelves with locked glass coverings are lined with jars and bottles in all kinds of shapes. Inside are piles of pill capsules, thick salves, and juices both flat and bubbly. Behind the counter an Aromatisse is sitting in a tall wooden chair with velvety red cushions. "Helloooo my dears,” a deep, but melodic voice swells from the round bird's beak and she leans forward onto the counter. “What ails you today that miss Kalina can help with, hmmm?"

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (8, 18/10)

The heavy smell of her perfumed, fluffy gown of feathers evokes something primal in your Salandit body. Not so different from Salazzle pheromones- it causes a surge of instinctive arousal and your already on edge rod spurts a gob of pre into the inside of your kilt.

Kalina pushes back and holds a hand in front of her beak, the laughter that rolls through her whole body telling you she definitely saw. "Ohohoho! Forget my question, oh my dearest darling! It is Yache concentrate that you need sweet boy.” When she sees the mortified look on your face, she waves a hand delicately. “Worry not! No, no, it’s perfectly natural. A perfectly natural Salandit problem, my dear boy. We cannot have you walking like this all over town though, no, not at all. So stay there one moment!"

"Try not to hold it against him. Hanging out with knockouts like us don't make it easy." Spring teases, setting a palm on her hip and rubbing Gwen behind the ear.

Kalina hops down from her chair and disappears behind the counter until she walks around, waddling on broad hips that swish her natural gown from side to side with each sashay. Her pink taloned hand raps against the glass of a display case, and behind it you can see a bottle of sky blue fluid with fizzy bubbles that float to the surface from her tapping. The price tag is only 10 Poke, "Natural anaphrodisiac, you sweet ripe thing. It will quell that swell between your hips or your money back!"

You don't have any money to speak of. Stepstone village worked on a credit system because they had to pool all their money for major purchases from the big city and your rewards have all been Berries. Though it pains you to turn down the convenient offer, you hiss, "I-I think this is something I need to learn to er, h-handle on my own." Nervously dancing around the poorly chosen wording, you make the bad move of trying to pull the kilt down tighter, which rubs the soft fabric against you and causes you to shudder.

Speaking of money problems, that was the other reason you came here. Opening your bag, you present an assortment of fresh and preserved Berries to the amused bird. She struts closer to take a look. "Actually, to be perfectly honest, m-my Guild doesn't have much Poke yet. We were ah, we hope you might buy some of our Berries f-for ingredients." Kalina leans down and takes a whiff of the bag's contents.

"Of course I will, of course. Always happy to lend a hand to the Guilds. Let me make you an offer." Kalina lists off how much she would be willing to pay for each kind of Berry. You might be able to haggle a bit.

>Sales Offers
Oran: 60 Poke
Pecha: 30 Poke
Chesto: 10 Poke
Rawst: 20 Poke
Bluk: 10 Poke
Shuca: 50 Poke
Kasib: 70 Poke

After deliberation, you decide on some of your Berries that don’t have any curative properties. "It sounds like Sh-Shuca and Kasib are good for potions. Do you think, you could toss in a Y-Yache juice if I sold both?"

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking (2, 13/8)

"Whatever happened to... 'handling it' on your own, hmmm? Mhmhmhm," with a gentle hum, Kalina produces a key ring from underneath her gown and opens the shelf next to her to withdraw a bottle of concentrated Yache juice.

You blush, embarrassed by getting caught in your second thoughts, even if it is probably the right decision. Nervously, you stammer out an excuse. "I-I mean, for emergencies." The glass bottle clinks against the wooden counter where Kalina sets it and she climbs back into her chair. From underneath she produces a jingling wooden box of coins and deposits a pile on the counter. You find a small stool for shorter Pokemon and use it to boost yourself up, foreclaws resting on the counter. The coins have numbers on them, arranged in 1, 10 and 100 values. Kalina has put down a 100, a 10, and ten 1s in front of you.

"You have yourself a deal, sweet boy. And if you are looking for a way to make more spending money, I have a little job in the back that you would be just... perfect for." Kalina waits for the blush to deepen in your face and you hear Spring giggling behind your back. But before you can answer with the obvious assumptions the apothecary clears up her intentional innuendo with a flick of her stubby fingers. "You see, my glassblower is feeling under the weather. Those legs work masterpieces like the best of them but the poor dear just can't ignite his flame while he's got this cold. I would be happy to offer another 100 Poke coin for a day's work."

"S-sure! Yeah! I'd love to blow your g- glass!” Chuckling indulgently at yourself, you hold out one of your magic claws to seal the deal. Kalina grasps it in her brightly colored talon and you can see her shiver at the touch.

"My, my. Your... eagerness really is contagious, hmhmhm." Looking at you through heavily lidded eyes, she slowly slides her hand back out of your lewd grasp.

You've never been great at handling your fire, so you hope Spring will be willing to help. Before you go into the back to get to work you stop to talk to your girls. "See uh, I might need your h-help, Spring."

"What's wrong little guy, a little furnace too hot for you to handle?" She teases you back. But she's already starting to walk past you towards the back room, and pats you on the tail as she goes.

Tapping your foreclaws against one another, you mumble, "K-kind of the opposite." You watch her go and then face Gwen, who has raised one of her back paws to scratch at her chin. She would probably appreciate a chance to stretch her legs more than hang out in a warm, stuffy furnace room. "Gwen, do you think you could t-take the money and find us somewhere to st-stay?" Her cute pink paw drops back to the ground and she rubs her face under your own chin. Then she takes the pouch of coins in her mouth and pulls back with it hanging from her jaws.

"I fin ew affer," she grumbles, muffled through her teeth, turning around and giving you a nice view under her tail as she leaves. It looks like all the saucy business from today has left more than just you riled up.

As you soon discover, your estimation was correct. The back room of Kalina's Curealls is very warm and stuffy. Not as potent as the forge before it, you don’t feel like you’re walking through a wall of hot air as you pass through the door. Probably because the glassblower is feeling under the weather. Good thing for you that warm and stuffy feels perfectly nice to a Fire type. Like relaxing in a sauna. The room has no windows and is lit by a lantern sitting on a countertop. There's an old-styled clay glassblowing furnace against the back wall. Kalina doesn't go back with you, so you and Spring's only company is a long red and brown shape coiled up on top of a pile of cushions.

It's a Sizzlipede with a hot water bottle sitting on top of his head where he's sprawled out on the cushions. The red-hot tongue in his mouth flicks in and out, tasting the air, more like a snake than a centipede. He buries his face in the cushions to sneeze before speaking to you. "Ahack, ahem. Who is it?" His voice nasally from the cold, the poor thing sniffles after. 

"H-hey there!” With a rapid wave of your claw, you approach him with a genial smile. “We're Murdoch and Spring, from Hoopa's Guild. What should we c-call you?" You're thankful that in the dark he probably can't see the small tent still pitching in your kilt. It’s becoming something you’re accustomed to, and you’re not sure if that’s good or not. Purely because he's sick you decide not to give him the magical touch this time. It might not feel very good, and you don't want to catch what he's got either. So you stay a few paces away from his hot, sparking sneezes.

"Heard you need somebody to light a fire?" Spring asks, standing beside you with a sure look on her face.

Uncoiling from his spot, the Sizzlipede stretches and works the creaks and groans out of his stiff body. The hot water bottle slips from the flat surface of his head and slides down when he gets up. "Name's Ulric. Nice to meetcha. Come over here, I- ahem. Show you what needs to be done."

Crawling to the furnace, he pops open the window to show you the inside. It's a dried clay structure, made to trap in heat and bring glass to the point where it can be shaped. You notice that there is no wood or coal inside to fuel the fire. "Normally I use my own flames. Rgh, right now I just can't get them to go hot enough. Kalina was going to get someone to bring us some wood, but couple ah fire types works just as well. Now, how good is your stamina? You're going to need to keep the flames up for a while."

Confidently slapping her chest with the flat of her palm, Spring smirks and professes her abilities to the client, "I've got enough in the tank to go all day. Not so sure about pipsqueak here."

Laughing nervously, you twiddle your claws together. "I-I'm still getting used to this stuff. B-but I can still help!"

Seemingly satisfied that at least one of you is confident, Ulric bobs his head up and down and stops to contain a sneeze before opening the cabinets and bringing out his supplies. "I have three fancy bottles to make today. The rest are basic ones. Let's get fired up for the first one." With another sniffle, Ulric mounts the glass inside of the furnace and steps back to let you and Spring in.

Together the two of you move up to the furnace and get ready. Taking a deep breath, you both start shooting fire into the dome to heat it up.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage (4, 8/10)
>Murdoch Fitness: (11/10)
>Spring Power: Advantage (3, 17/10)
>Spring Fitness: Advantage (8, 20/10)

Your flames barely reach inside the furnace as you try to keep your ember up. At least you can say you never tired yourself out even blowing with all your might. Spring, however, maintains a long, focused flame, carefully moving it around to heat up all parts of the glass.

After the small ball of glass is molten and red hot, Ulric takes it out and blows gently into the blow pipe, careful not to strain himself and start coughing into the glass. You watch in fascination as he uses his own flat, armored back and his small dextrous legs to shape the glass, unbothered by the molten heat. "T-that's really cool."

Spring slides an arm around your shoulder and waggles her eyebrows at you. "I don't think cool is the right word, kid."

It's only a matter of time before the first bottle is finished. With more bottles on the way, you and Spring take deep breathes and get back to work heating the furnace.

>Bottle 2
>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage (19, 19/10)
>Murdoch Fitness: (4/10)
>Spring Power: Advantage (6, 2/10)
>Spring Fitness: Advantage (14, 8/10)

By the end of the second one you are out of breath, but feeling a swell of pride in your chest. Spring hadn't been able to keep up her impressive flames the whole time and needed to take a break, so you pushed yourself as hard as you could. The effort paid off, and you see her getting a competitive glint in her eyes.

>Bottle 3
>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage, Tired (4, 10/12)
>Murdoch Fitness: Tired (9/12)
>Spring Power: Advantage (10, 7/10)
>Spring Fitness: Advantage (13, 13/10)

Having her break helped Spring catch her breath, and the spark of competition reignites her flames. When you falter and then run out of steam, she takes over and finishes the third bottle for you. With a broad smile, her little fangs poke out of her mouth and she pats you on the head. "You're cute when you're out of breath."

Hours later and the three fancy bottles are completed. They're shaped to look like Berries, matching the kinds that the potions they're for are made from.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Cooking (8, 9/8)

You pick them out as being for Lum, Yache and Payapa berry potions. Thinking about the potions again makes you curious. "W-what kind of Berries are used to treat getting sick like this?"

Coughing into his pillow after the strain of blowing the three bottles, Ulric makes a grumbling sound. "If there were a cure for the common cold I wouldn't still be sick. No, only help would be Combee honey to sooth my throat." He's coiled up in his cushion pile again while you and Spring sit on the floor, taking a break. Spring has been surprisingly professional this time with her work, and your erection has mercifully gone down. Ulric sniffles and continues, "That's the three fancy bottle commissions done. Kalina is going softer on the basic bottles while I'm sick, so that's good enough for now. But... if you want to stay and help me finish the rest, I'll pitch in a little bonus for your pay myself for each bottle. It'll be less backlog after I'm over this."

A claw on your chin, you think to yourself about Spring's kink for making bets. Making a game out of this job could make for some fun later. "S-say Spring, why don't we make it interesting?"

"I'm listening." There is a sultry tone in her voice. Expectant. She's caught onto your meaning immediately and pulls you in closer under her arm.

"Er, w-well, I wasn't sure what to bet yet actually. Besides w-winner, the winner is who makes the most bottles. Do you have any ideas?" Spring looks at Ulric out of the corner of her eye, all too aware he is within earshot. But Ulric's eyes are closed while he rests up. She whispers to you in a husky voice.

"I think Gwen already has dibs on what's downstairs tonight. How about the loser gives the winner some linguistic lessons later?" She holds up two fingers and makes lewd slurping motions between them to help get her point across. Feeling an immediate fluttering in your gut, you nod excitedly. Secretly, you don’t much care who wins. You’re not sure she does either. No, wait- Spring would definitely like to win just for winning’s sake. But whoever wins, it’s going to be a good time for all involved.

"Then each of us keeps going until we fail to make a bottle," she gently moves you out of the way, wanting to go first. A cocky look is shot over at the Sizzlipede. "I'll give it a go first, Ulric. If you can keep up?"

>Lots of rolls
>Spring Bottle Count: 6

You watch with amazement as Spring goes through many bottles over the course of the next couple of hours. These ones are no pieces of carefully sculpted art. They’re fat and round with a flat base, they’re glass, and they can hold liquid inside. It doesn’t take any fancy legwork from Ulric, making his part go much faster and easier.

Eventually even Spring starts to get out of breath and can't finish heating the next bottle. She waves you over to take over, going to flop down and lean against the side of the cushion pile. You swallow down some stage fright and get to work.

>Rolls
>Murdoch Bottle Count: 0

And you are met with disappointment. A few wheezy attempts and you find you're too strained to finish even one bottle. Ulric pats you on the back consolingly. "I know how that feels. Don't beat yourself up over it." Curling around to dig in the pile of his things, Ulric gets out a pile of money to drop into Spring's waiting palm. She has a smug look on her face and leads the way back out.

"Good effort," she condescendingly tells you, with a pat on the head once you catch up.

Gwen is waiting for you outside of the apothecary's laying down. She lets out a wide yawn when she sees you emerge. It's already gotten dark outside while you were working. "How you do?" she asks, patting the bag of coins next to her. You pick it up and open it for Spring to deposit the new ones. Gwen spent 20 and you got 160 for the bottles.

You reach down and scratch Gwen under the chin with a smile. "Spring did most of the- the work, r-really put me to shame," you admit. From behind you, you can sense Spring’s smug grin, eagerly soaking in the praise.

"So are we staying at the usual place Gwen?" the fire monkey steps around you and starts walking down the street already as if she knows the answer. Gwen gets up and leads you on with a brush of her tail.

"Yes. Elm place."

Cradled in your claws, the coin bag jingles now, more comfortably full after being paid. The homey atmosphere of Stepstone village is nice, but it feels good to have spending money on hand in a real town now. With some fumbling, you manage to hook the bag onto your kilt.

Gwen and Spring bring you in front of a comfortable looking building. It has a colored glass window in the shape of an egg inside of a curled-up elm leaf shaped like a hammock, hung between two branches. Wooden letters above the window call it the Elm Cradle Bed & Breakfast.

The interior of the room is wooden and rustic feeling, and it has a warm plush green rug. Three wooden tables with stools of varying heights are arranged for guests to sit at. Behind a counter is a towering and imposing Scolipede who nods in Gwen's direction as she goes up stairs to a second floor.

It’s late, and you’re too tired to socialize. Following Gwen’s example, you simply give the proprietor a nod back and pull yourself up the stairs. They’re a little awkward for you, broad and short, each stair the size of your torso. Made to accommodate as many sizes of Pokemon as possible, but that doesn’t necessarily make them comfortable for all to traverse.

Everything has a silver lining. Climbing up the stairs behind Gwen and Spring, the view of their rears and anticipation of what's waiting for you in the room has your once cooled arousal bubbling to the surface again. Each room's door has a handle with rough grip tape around it to help those without opposable thumbs turn them, as well as a dog door in the bottom. Gwen slips in through the flap and Spring opens the door up for the two of you.

Inside it looks comfortable, with dim evening light barely glowing through dark green curtains that cover the single window. There is a single large bed, resting low to the floor. It's got a soft, cushy mattress and a bright green set of sheets and blankets on top of it. Unlike a human bed it is round, built more like a nest. A side table with a candle, a chest with a lock on it and a pair of wooden poles with a folded length of green hammock netting complete the furnishing of the room.

Gwen hops into the nest bed and curls around, looking at you with expectant eyes. Spring closes the bolts on both the door and flap to keep out any interruptions, but you can't help but think about how much sound the flap must let out. Everyone is going to know damn well what’s going on.

"Murdoch and I made a bet back at the apothecary,” Spring saunters over and takes a seat on the raised edge of the bed near Gwen. “I get to have fun with that adorably stuttering little mouth of his." Her hand pats the fabric and she invites you over with a crook of her neck. Curling the edges of her mouth, she continues to lean her head back until she can see Gwen behind her. "So how about we share just like old times?"

Gwen growls, or more accurately purrs, approvingly. "Fine."

Your knees shake, a little weak at the prospect of these two girls double teaming you. You sincerely hope you have what it takes to keep up. They've both got their eyes on you expectantly, so you fumble around extracting a Chesto from your bag. Crunching between your teeth, the Berry sends an immediate flood of energy into tired limbs as you chew it loudly.

Leaning back with her legs spread out lewdly, Spring giggles when you eat it. "Is that for energy or for precautions?"

Swallowing enough of the mass of disintegrated Berry-matter to speak around it, you mumble, "P-precautions?"

She quirks one brow and smirks. While she explains it to you, Spring gently takes hold of Gwen under her forelegs and turns her over onto her back, exposing her glistening cookie and the rows of her nipples. "You don't know? Chesto berries are used as birth control. Now Gwen, Murdoch has had a rough day. Why don't we let him be on top... for round one." Gwen looks up at her, bemused.

Your knees are like gelatin at the thought of more than one round, as you remember the first time you shared a bed with Gwen. You'd only done oral, but she had orgasmed three or more times before you tired her out. Hoping not to embarrass yourself by falling all over you crawl on top of Gwen and swallow the final gulp of Chesto. It hits your stomach like a bolt of lightning, and you feel fully awake. She looks into your eyes as your slit grinds up against her cookie and her tongue lolls out to lick you across the snout. In spite of human instincts to pull away from the moistness dragging across your face, you reciprocate, serpentine tongue pressing against her own and feeling the sharp shape of her teeth.

Raising your head, you run a claw over Gwen’s exposed belly. "B-b- I don't think we're in the same egg group, a-anyways. Right?"

Spring shrugs at your question and takes hold at the back of your neck, where your bandana-like fins protrude, moving her own wet, puffy entrance closer to your face. The scent of it sends instinctive blood flowing down to your nethers and your cock practically shoots out, right from your slit to holster itself in Gwen's. Gwen grunts, pleased, and holds her paws up in front of her. You take hold of them in your claws and carefully rub the soft, yet rough surface of her pink pads. Being hilted in a girl is enough to make you come back to the edge again already.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Paws (12, 13/12)

Groaning deep in your throat, you are able to keep from blasting off early. Gwen's tight walls constricting around you don't make it easy.

"Don't forget me, we had a bet," Spring reminds you impatiently with a scritch of her nails at the base of your neck. Bringing your snout up, you mlem against the surface of her sex with your tongue. All the fresh fruit she eats has given her fluids a pleasant taste, far better than the fishiness of your old girlfriend. Spring takes it as an invitation to move in closer, allowing your tongue free reign.

Then she jerks upright in a sudden surge of surprise, as you feel a second, wet tongue lap up against her alongside your own. Gwen has leaned forwards and joined you, the two of you practically making out inside of Spring. "A-ah. I didn't know you were, you uh- you swing that way," she gasps out in shock, for once the one caught stuttering.

Gwen pulls back just long enough to reply. "Exception. I apologize, for before."

"Apology acc-epted."

While Spring hisses in pleasure between her teeth and Gwen rejoins you in double teaming her with your tongues, you gather enough confidence to start moving your hips. You curl your claws around Gwen's paws, pressing your palms against her pads and interlocking digits.

Feeling your tongues wrestling with one another inside of Spring’s powerful heat is an unforgettable experience. With her coarseness, Gwen’s texture grips you and drags you in deeper. The slickness of her saliva paradoxically makes it easier to slide in, your tongue’s extensive tip striking anatomy you don’t have the frame of mind to name. Everything pulls you forward until your snout is nearly inside of Spring, and your hips grind you deeper into Gwen than you thought possible, squeezing open the gates of your slit and pressing your inner inches deeper still. A patch of ginger pubic fuzz nuzzled against your nostrils smells slightly of campfire ash, and it excites you. More than biology. It’s the scent of good memories. It’s the sensation of warmth you long thought gone from your life flooding back into your chest.

Entangled with your partner- and your mutual teammate- in every way, it’s not long before a haze falls over you.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Paws (3, 16/12)
>Gwen Lewd: Advantage (1, 1/10)
>Spring Lewd: Double Team (17/12)

Each thrust becomes more rapid and erratic. Try as you might to keep focus, the fiery determination to make it good for her drives you forward before your thinking mind can catch up. Muscles tighten in your body- you try to hold it in, but before you can stop yourself you're shooting a load into Gwen. Her walls tighten and spasm around your cock, which pumps hard to force out what remains of your stores. After the past few days have drained you, it’s a pitiful amount for all the effort.

Only when you gasp and catch your breath do you realize Gwen is still twitching around you. You managed to get an orgasm out of her, in spite of your failed willpower.

>Gwen has gained Fetish: Pawholding

With the two of you coming down from the mutual orgasm, your tongues simultaneously fall loose out of Spring while you pant. Left hollow and empty in their wake, Spring bares her teeth through a reluctant breather from her own two-tongued torment. "Hope you two are still good for a second round. I've never seen you go off that early, Gwen."

You see a bit of red blush darken inside of Gwen's ears. "I... like this." Gwen wiggles her digits between your claws. “Like you.” Bubbles of elations fizz in your insides. Not wanting to disappoint, you pull out of Gwen with a slick squelching sound, your cookie filling settling nicely as she closes around to hold it in. You're already starting to go down, but maybe you can get it up again yet tonight.

"I c-could use water," on wobbly feet you walk to your bag and almost trip on the kilt around your ankles, kicking it off. Taking out a canteen of water, you guzzle it down. After all day spent in a smithy and a glass blowing shop the water is warm, but your body doesn't mind.

>Murdoch Fitness: (1/10)
>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Post-Orgasm (9, 19/12)

However much you try, the crash of post coitus tiredness hits you like a tidal wave. A momentary rush of Chesto-fueled vigor can only carry so far past the body’s upper limits. And Murdoch Junior has gone inside his slit to lock up for the night. "I-I'm all for continuing but um, I don't think my partner is able," you admit, looking down at the floor. You can feel the concealed blush as heat comes rushing to your face behind your scales. Unseen, but anyone close enough would surely feel it.

Rolling her eyes, Spring slides down into the bed and sinks into it, patting a spot between her and Gwen. "Well, I still need to finish. A bet's a bet. Gwen will just have to wait for another day to ride you like a stallion." She looks over at Gwen, who is still floating aimlessly in the afterglow herself. "But you did a number on her. I guess she likes that ooey gooey romantic stuff."

Holding one of Gwen’s dazzled paws in her hand, Spring giggles quietly. You climb into bed between them, lying in the opposite direction so your snout is level with Spring's pussy. Leaning in, you give her a helping of your long lizard tongue, her toes curling up in the air.

>Spring Lewd: Round 2 (20/12)
>Murdoch Fitness: Tired (16/12)
>Spring Lewd: Round 3: (13/14)
>Murdoch Fitness: (10/14)

With your best efforts, your tired tongue moves almost automatically as your eyelids droop and your consciousness drifts off towards sleep. After a long and exhausting day, you succumb to sleep just as you hear Spring moan at last, and taste the flood of her berry-sweetened juices. The very definition of just enough.

How long is it you flicker in the space between sleeping and waking? Dreams are a funny thing, you can dream of hours in just a few minutes, or spend an hour spinning around a singular moment. When at last you wake up to dreaming, the everything where you are is aswirl with colors. It takes you a moment to recognize the place, just in time for a soft pair of mitten-like hands to settle upon your shoulders and send a wave of pleasurable tingles through your mind.

"Congratulations, Murry. Your Guild has officially gone up a rank in the competition!" Hoopa's energetic voice is accompanied by an involuntary moan that escapes your mouth, his hands working into your shoulders in an erogenous massage. "I hate to skip the foreplay, but we have a lot to talk about tonight. So let's be quick about the formalities." He spins you around to face his grinning visage. "With your Guild now at Rank E, I'm allowed to gift you a new boon."

It all falls into place in your mind’s eye, plummeting through holes in between memories to flicker there for a moment. Just a moment. Dangling for you to pick up and look at if you wish, but always with the courteous forethought to fall between the wrinkles of your brain and trickle down out of the bottom of your skull. It is as practiced and gentle as the fingers he does not have, resting on shoulders that have become your own.

>Murdoch's Guild has reached Rank E and earned a milestone perk. Choose one:
>Ace in the Hole: Using a specialized portal, Murdoch's butt becomes extra stretchy, able to accommodate seemingly impossible insertions. He can also hide and withdraw things from a hidden inventory space. Just remember to protect your secret treasures from cum damage.
>Hoopa's Collar: Murdoch can make one extra golden collar at a time. It gives its wearer Experience when Indulging others' fetishes. Defeated outlaws forced to wear the collar must obey Murdoch's commands.
>Thinking With Portals: Murdoch can create two linked portals on flat surfaces. Each portal is created separately and only becomes active when the second is made. Any new portal replaces one of the active two.

>Murdoch has indulged in Spring's Bets and Double Team Fetishes, and in Gwen's new Pawholding Fetish, giving him a level up
>Murdoch can learn Flame Burst
>Flame Burst (Power): Causes moderate injury to one target and minor injury to enemies next to the target. Usable four times per dungeon.
>Murdoch already knows four moves. Delete a move to learn Flame Burst?

>Ember was forgotten
>Flame Burst was learned

Still floating in the colorful space with Hoopa, you open your eyes. The words you set aside fall away, leaving faint imprints. Memories you can find if you search for them, with a little bit of inspiration. A decision is made. Being able to make portals is tempting, but you think you will do better with the collar. "I-it's got to be the collar, Hoopa."

His soft hand reaches out again and brushes against your cheek. Hoopa grabs onto the round, golden collar around your neck and tugs you forward. You float easily through the empty space between you and into his forceful embrace. His lips lock onto the end of your snout as if laser guided.

Kissing Hoopa feels more intimate this time. His tongue slides up against your own and dances with it back and forth. Before you were surprised and shocked into arousal by his magic touch, but now you feel yourself leaning into it naturally. For its part, your tongue has had its practice performing the complex waltzes it’s danced with Gwen. Being held and touched and kissed doesn't feel so strange or out of reach anymore. You could reach out back.

One of your claws reaches out and wraps around the golden hoop that adorns his waist, pulling him closer as well. You feel something warm and firm press against your stomach, but before you can reach for it, he grabs your arm gently and pulls it away. Hoopa's touch against your lips slips away and he floats backwards with a confident smirk.

"A-are you going to do that every time I get a new b-boon?" you breathlessly huff.

"Only as long as I like you." Hoopa winks at you coyly, his telltale erection bobbing up and down with the rest of him as he floats on the invisible currents of this place. It's distracting enough you don't notice a new weight in your claws, at first. You look down and see yourself holding another golden loop like your own. To your surprise it grows and shrinks as you move your claws along it, stretching and constricting at your will. His voice returns, from out of your periphery. It is heavier. As heavy as the gold in your hands. "You had serious business to discuss with me. But before we do I need to give you a warning."

"W-warning?"

When next you look up at him, Hoopa's face is more serious than you've seen it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, to calm himself. At his command, the swelling erection dies away, shriveling into a narrow slit in his lower bits. Fun time is over, for now. "I'm only entertaining this because you seem like you mean well. The rules of the game mean I can't give you help, not this kind of help."

"D-do you mean my questions about the King?" Hoopa's eyes open up and you lock onto them, deep pools of gold and green with a brilliant light inside. Hoopa floats closer to you and takes one of your claws in his palm. There is no tingling of magic fingers this time.

"He might not be a rival anymore, but dethroning the King is the kind of fame that could propel you to winning immediately. If I tell you anything about him and what he can do and you decide to go try it, there's a good chance you and I will get disqualified in the final judging for the competition." His other mitten-like hand folds over your claw in his palm, enveloping it. Your eyes stay locked together.

>"Do you want me to tell you what I know?"

Though they slither through the spaces between your gray matter with the grace of serpents, Hoopa's words feel as heavy as a grown Arbok draped across your shoulders. The gravity in them tells you that this is not a decision to make lightly. After careful deliberation, you slump down and decide that no, King isn't worth throwing away the competition. Not yet. You still need to do your own investigating.

"I-I think I need to look into this on my own more. For now." With a mixed sigh of relief and- disappointment?- Hoopa releases your claw and lets it float back down to your side. He twirls in the air, and then shakes off the metaphorical heavy mood with a physical shaking of his arms. Just like that, it’s gone. Before he decides to go disappearing abruptly again you try to ask some of your other questions. "W-what about the rules? Can you tell me about them?"

With a wave of his hand in the air, Hoopa recites some things. "Former Guild leaders who stayed here and former Guild members can't interfere with the competition. If they run a business they can still do their job and sell you things, or answer questions about their job. Obviously, if you go messing with them, that’s your choice." Even though you declined, you’re keen enough to detect a subtext in his words, and a meaning in his eyes. They can’t strike first.

"Wh-what happens to people who break the rules?" you ask him worriedly, thinking about what risks there could be.

"If they break the rules and attack you or try to help you, they get a warning. If they keep doing it Celebi will put them in timeout until the game is over. If the help was significant and you accepted it, you might get disqualified in the final judging." His eyes look you over and see some scheming starting to brew in your posture. "Remember what I said. If you poke them, that’s on you."

"Is the interference p-policy why King's likeability power doesn't work on Guild members?

Silence follows with Hoopa quietly thinking about how to answer. Getting some of his swagger back, the cocky legend floats next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders. "It's a good guess, Murry." You get the feeling that more questions revolving around King will be given avoidance. That was your choice, after all. Instead, you bring up a new topic.

"M- my new collar- what about that? How does it w-work? Can I put my own bounty on someone and j-just use that?"

An encouraging slap on the back causes you to roll head over heels in the floating colors. "They have to be officially recognized as an outlaw by one of the town bounty offices. You can figure out the rest yourself." Hoopa hangs around while you slowly spin around and reorient yourself, watching your face for any more questions brewing. "Last call for questions, Murry. It's almost morning."

"Telling me public knowledge can't get us dis- disqualified can it?" you suggest hopefully.

Hoopa hums and mulls it over. "Try me."

"Are psychic and d-dark types resistant to m-mind affecting powers?" Hoopa shakes his head, the golden hoops hanging from his horns jingling around.

"Boons like your collar will work on them just fine if they meet the criteria. Dark types and stronger Psychics can resist another Psychic's powers, but I don't see Pokemon break free of a boon-given power on their own very often. Not many Psychics are as strong as us legends." He says his words carefully, emphasizing 'like' your collar. So other powers must work similarly.

Your fins perk up. "Somebody just a-attacking me wouldn't be an outlaw?"

"No. Just a jerk." They deflate again. Hoopa gives you an unhelpful shrug.

Sucking air into your cheeks, you huff out a whinge of buyer’s remorse, "W-why can't your collar just work on anybody? Can you m-make it less situational?"

Laughing at your pouty look, Hoopa curls his hand around your collar again and runs it along the smooth surface. "I'm the Thief King, Murry. Thieves and outlaws are my thing. So," he leans in close to the side of your head, and whispers gently in your ear. "The naughtier you are, the closer we get. Just not too naughty, hey. Even a thief can be a gentleman about it." Then he gives you a playful pat on the cheek and floats away. You rub your cheek with your claw, dark scales burning underneath with a flush.

What he said has you thinking about a different way to get a hint. The boons are related to who gives them out. "D-do you uh, will it get you in trouble to tell me who the King's patron was?"

A sour groan comes out of Hoopa's throat and he rolls his eyes, "Sure. It's not like he made a secret about it. King was the champion of Victini's Guild." His smirk creeps back onto his face, and you sense a finality entering his voice. "Alright, Murry. As much as I love your company, that's enough questions for now. Time for you to wake up and get back to work, hey! Get out there and win." Get out there and win. Maybe you’re not just a joke after all. How many layers under are you, in the Thief King’s games?

Hoopa claps his hands, and you twitch, springing up in bed.

Chapter Text

One of your legs tries to kick and twitch as you wake up, but is pinned under something soft and furry. Heavy heat is draped around you on all sides, and the smell of sex lingers in the air. Tangled up in bed with Gwen and Spring, you realize you fell asleep lying the other way. Spring is lying on her stomach top of you after rolling over in her sleep, with one of her arms draped over Gwen. It gives you a clear view of her butt, round and shapely with a little stub tail that gives off a plume of soft flame. One of Gwen's legs is tangled under Spring, leaving her rough pink paw stuck in your face.

It's quite the pretzel of bodies you’ve built for yourself. Unable to dig yourself free from your grave of pleasure without waking up the girls, you are left with a pleasant view while you think about what to get done first today. Leaning back into the soft cushions of the round bed, you think back to your errands.

>Rape Dungeon
From the bounty office you picked up a mission to catch a gang of outlaws using a mystery dungeon to trap and take advantage of Pokemon.

>Bakery Preparation
Enzo wants you to do two deliveries for him. One is a pair of garden shears the castle gardener wants, and the other is a light fixture he was finishing for the apothecary. The light fixture should be done by now. In return he offered to make you cookware for your bakery.

You also wanted to get an oven from Enzo for the bakery, and you need 300 Poke for that.

>Chase Hustle
The King put out another bounty on a Zigzagoon who sells berry potions, labeling him an illegal drug dealer. Ester told you Hustle only made legal potions and worked for the King until Ester helped him escape.

From the bounty you learned that Hustle fled towards the desert.

There’s good reason for each of them to get priority. But really, you’re a team, so you reason that the girls should have some input.

Temptation proves too powerful for your feeble mortal mind, dangling right there, just out of reach of your snout. With the reach reach your forked tongue affords, you stretch across the distance between you and form a fleshy pink bridge, wrapping the appendage around Gwen's pads and running it over them. The surface feels rough, and yet soft at the same time. It’s becoming comfortingly familiar. Gwen twitches in her sleep, and you can hear her grumble. Slowly you withdraw your tongue, wetting it again. The experience didn't have much of a taste, but the naughty thoughts it's brought to mind are sensation enough to fill your head with a light buzz.

"What you doing?" her gruff voice groggily growling snaps you out of it, and you feel warmth flush up into your face, and down to the base of your tail.

"O-oh I was just- j-just uh, good morning," you stammer out. Gwen pushes Spring off of her so that she can roll out of the bed, causing Spring to snort and cough.

"Huh? Somebody said morning?"

The blissful relaxation in bed had to come to an end sometime, as they claim all good things must. Rolling over onto your stomach now that the lady sandwich has been peeled open, you lean forward and arch your back, stretching down to the tip of your tail. After a long yawn, you clear your throat and answer at last, "That's right. Should we go d-do those deliveries now?" It seems like the quickest and easiest to you.

Everyone picks themselves up and washes their faces at the water vasin. Sleeping in a strange position gave you a few cramps to work out, so you do some more morning stretches while the girls wash the sleep from their eyes. How to limber up a Salandit’s anatomy isn’t really your area of expertise, but you feel your way through and go with what feels right.

Spring holds a hand in front of her face, opening her jaws wide in a yawn of her own, showing off her canines. For a place where you’ve yet to see toothpaste, it occurs to you how exquisite just about everyone’s teeth are. "I guess so. What about that gang outside town?"

You grimace. "M-maybe we can do that later, unless it uh, we have to." You enjoy how sexually open this world is compared to your own, and you have a hard time imagining how bad the rapists must be to get declared criminals.

With a smirk, Spring bumps you with her hip while you're stretching, making you stumble. "Getting cold feet? We could find some other way to make the last bit of money we need. It's not much, shouldn't be hard."

"What about other outlaw?" Gwen breaks things up, pushing past the two of you and brushing you along the back with her tail.

"That's all the way in the desert. We can go running around after we're done in town right? Vying with Gwen for lead, Spring steps ahead to get the door.

Your Guild passes through a short hall and a set of stairs into the main floor of the inn, which you can now take in better fully awake. Smooth wooden tables at a variety of heights, adorned with equally various stools, present themselves to accommodate all of the body shapes they might see coming through. Silken tapestries drape the walls, decorated in web-like patterns of dyed color in greens and purples, all framed with crisp pressed leaves. A complimentary breakfast is waiting for you laid out on the front counter, watched over by a cheery-faced Leavanny who gives you a warm smile as you pass, Berry muffins with a side of butter and a Chesto coffee to help wake you up. You and Spring collect the trays of food, which still smells warm and fresh, bringing it to a low table.

Sitting across from Spring with Gwen between of you, you pick up a cup and take a drink. There is a tart flavor of Nomel Berries blended into the coffee that gives you a kick to the senses as well as the body.

"So what do you think about everything going on?" Spring tries making some conversation, while she cuts off the cap of a muffin and spreads butter across it. The rich spread melts onto the muffin, moistening it. Gwen salivates while watching her, and Spring rolls her eyes, giving the buttered muffin top to Gwen since she can't spread it well herself.

It takes only seconds for Gwen to scarf down the energizing snack. "This kind of thing we make at bakery?" She asks you eagerly, crumbs stuck in the fur on the sides of her mouth. You smile and brush them away, and she licks them from your fingers. "I think, bakery good idea." Good to know she’s on the same page. The delivery items should be waiting at Enzo's metalworking shop for you to pick up. His usual assistants are doing a delivery out of town, so if you wait too long you might be out of the job.

Biting into your muffin, you get a mouthful of one of the berry chunks. The fruit has firm, juicy flesh, with a mild tang that compliments the sweetness of the spongy bread. Rolling it around with your tongue you also find there are seeds inside the muffin, which leave a warm sensation on your tongue.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (19, 1/8)
>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (8, 16/10)
The muffins are made with Wepear Berries, that's easy. And with Hondew seeds, you're sure of it. Oil from Hondew seeds causes a warming sensation.

While you eat you can't help but smile at Spring and Gwen getting along. "Y-you're adorable," it slips out from behind your muffin before you can help it. Spring teases you by brushing your leg with her foot under table.

"But who's cuter?" she asks, always having to make it a competition.

"I- a-aha, well,” you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but-

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (11, 16)
>Spring Intelligence: (8)
While Spring is busy poking at you, Gwen flashes you a playful look and leans closer to the second muffin top Spring buttered. She snatches up the baking with her tongue before Spring notices.

Doing a double take at the missing spot on her platter, Spring swats at Gwen's nose too late and pouts at her. "Hey, that was mine you dumb bitch." Even though her language is harsh you don't feel the same hostility as there was between her and Gwen before.

"Less teasing more eating. Work to do," Gwen says smugly. A finger flicks her in the nose, and Spring pouts while buttering herself another.

Finishing your breakfast, you follow the girls outside and start going back to the riverside where Enzo's shop is. Your thoughts turn to Victor, wondering if he's lonely staying back at Stepstone Village all by himself. He told you that contacting him was as easy as focusing on him, it worked with Larissa so maybe you should give it another try.

Along the way you see other Pokemon going about their business. Some of them you recognize from your walk the other day. The Torracat and Riolu wearing armor pass you again and the fiery cat his giving you a leering look when you go by, but there's no show for him dangling around in your kilt this morning.

At the intersection to turn to Enzo's street you see the Ledian from the other day guarding the bridge to the Windmill village road. Resisting the temptation to get sidetracked entertaining the cat’s obvious interest, you keep going right to Enzo's shop. But you see no harm in sending a friendly ping Victor's way.

You can do it while you walk, even! You think. Last time it took sitting down and closing your eyes to picture Victor, but you try to do it on the move this time. As if he's here beside you, flapping his wings.

>Murdoch Will: (12/10)

Sending a thought out towards the edges of your thoughts, you ask, ~Victor? A-are you there?~

You feel a presence beside you, and you have to stop yourself from looking over. As a magician, you know the trick is diverting attention. As long as you don't know Victor isn't there, it's easy to pretend and keep the connection going. Just like you’re on a walk together. ~Good morning, Murdoch. You're getting better at this.~

~Ehehe, t-thanks.~

While you converse with Victor in your head, the girls compete for the lead and you fall a little bit behind in your absentminded walk.

They wait for you at the door to Enzo's smithy. Spring opens the door and leads the way in, wagging a fan of fingers at Gwen to flaunt her opposable thumbs. The sweltering heat inside rushes out in a wave that hits you like warm water washing over you on the beach.

~What are you doing right now?~ Victor's question hangs inside of you, a sensation not dissimilar from what you’ve experienced with Hoopa in your dreams. Enzo perks up at his table. He's enjoying a breakfast of his own, an apple that must be practically baked inside by the heat inside the smithy.

"You're back!" the Charizard greets merrily.

Spring rolls her shoulder and walks up to him while Gwen sags from the heat, staying near the door. "Yeah, we wanted to get the deliveries done now that we're rested." Enzo gets up and leads you two to a shelf at the back where a three-pronged candle sconce and a pair of garden shears are lying in wait. The metal would probably be painful to touch, but you and Spring have the Fire type advantage. They just feel nice and warm in your claws.

"You remember where they go?" Enzo asks in an awkwardly chipper voice, rubbing the back of his neck. The events of your last visit are obviously still on his mind.

"Y-yes, we remember. The sconce goes to Kalina, the shears g-go to the gardener at the castle," you recite the two locations and Enzo seems satisfied that you know where to go. He sits back down in his chair, tail waving back and forth with mesmerizing trails left behind by the flame.

"Good. By the way, were you able to get enough for the oven?"

Feeling a little under pressure, you wring your claws together. "Not yet, n-no. We're close. Just need a l-little more time."

Enzo lifts one clawed hand and waves it before slumping it back down onto the table. He reassures you and then takes a bite of his apple with a soft crunch. "There's no rush." The pressure eases off, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You and Spring walk back outside, Gwen panting and taking a deep breath of the cool morning air once you close the door behind you. Spring has the shears, and you're carrying the candle sconce. "Stay together?" Gwen asks. Holding the shears together and by the outside of the blade, Spring is visibly fighting the natural urge to spin it around by the handle using her fingers.

"Oh, yeah, no, we can just deliver both at once. Are we in a hurry to do anything else today?"

While you think about how to answer her, you update Victor on the situation. ~We're doing errands, f-for some cookwear. I'm hoping we can b-build a bakery in the village.~ A twinge of excitement travels along the mental wire between you and Victor, like a tingle up your spine.

~That sounds lovely. Do you think I could help you bake, learn a thing or two? I could handle things whenever you're out!~ you feel him clapping his wingtips together.

Realizing you’d been staring into space while Spring looks at you expectantly, you clear your throat and suggest, "How about you girls g-go together and I'll go on my own?" You already know where the apothecary is so it shouldn't be hard. Clutching the candle sconce in your claws forces you to stand up on two legs and waddle along, something you're getting better at since you got here.

"Sure. Don't get into too much trouble without us," Spring winks at you and they break away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Except you're not, because Victor is in them.

Returning your thoughts to a response for him, chatter back flirtatiously, ~You can p-put something in my oven any time, Vic,~ Your bat friend flushes with heat at the innuendo.

~Well, the feeling is mutual. If I had an oven, you could definitely use it anytime.~ Awkward laughter rings in your head from both sides, a goofy smile on your face as you absentmindedly walk where you think the apothecary is.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Easily Lost, Distracted (4, 14/14)
Just before you accidentally miss your turn, you catch yourself and swivel around onto the street with Kalina's apothecary. Pushing into the door with the candle holder in your claws, you rejoice at a job complete. "Oh dear, welcome back. Is that mine? Where are your lady friends?" The round bird's warbling voice reaches you across the heavily scented room, from where she leans over her desk.

Looking over your shoulder, you step inside and let the door fall shut behind you. "Oh, they're on their own today. B-busy. I'm busy. Everyb-body's busy."

Holding one of her dark pink talons up to her face, Kalina's fluffy natural gown bobs with her bubbly laughter. "Isn't that the truth, my boy. Come now then, let's see what Enzo made me." Waddling up to her, you slide the sconce onto the counter and Kalina picks it up to admire it. She takes out some scented candles to slot into it and hangs the fixture up on the wall. "Would you mind giving me a light, darling?" She tweets, and you nervously stammer a little. You aren't the best with your flames, but you can handle lighting a few candles, right?

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage, Small Task (15, 10/5)
In quiet agreement you crawl over and lean up to reach the sconce on the wall. A little puff of flame is all it takes and the wicks catch, lending the room a pleasant orange glow. "Thank you. Now if you aren't too-too busy, I might have another errand you can help with myself. Still looking to make a little extra spending money dear?" Sauntering back to the counter, Kalina folds her arms in front of her. From beside the counter you can see the soft, smooth skin of her leg sticking out the side of her gown and find your eyes wandering. Victor’s presence in your mind’s eye gently nudges you, and you blink back up at her eyes.

She doesn’t look like she minds. "W-what kind of errand?" you ask.

"You're doing a delivery now, myes? I have something that needs delivering as well. A potion ordered by one of your competitors. If you don't mind delivering to a rival I could offer you 10 Poke for this little errand?" Kalina places a bottle of deep, opaque yellow juice on the counter. It's a round and bulbous bottle with two handles, one on either side. The liquid reminds you of orange juice with bits of the pulp floating in it.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (4, 12/10)
You recognize it as Sitrus juice.

Licking your snout, you ask, "Which c-competitor? Should I ah, um, be nervous a-about meeting them alone?" As far as you know every major town has a Guild. So far the only one you met was the Mesprit Guild, and they were nice, but you worry other competitors like the King might be in your competition.

Kalina doesn't seem as worried as you are. "Never you worry darling, our town's Guild leader seems like a fine young man. His name is Wade, and he fancies himself a knight."

"A- a knight?"

Kalina twirls her talon against the surface of the counter, in rings going back and forth. "Oh yes. Been getting comfortable with the King's knights since he arrived. I hear he's planning to take down those awful outlaws harassing people outside of town. Oh- but maybe I've said too much already." She places a talon over her beak and giggles. "You should go see him yourself. His Guild base is on the west side of town. Looks like a small castle tower." 

Meeting one of your real rivals for the first time makes you nervous, this isn't like Larissa at all. Conspiracies spin through your head and you poke your fingers together. "W-who would I be looking for? Are t-they the Riolu?" you ask, hoping Kalina can give a little more information. She swishes one of her arms through the air, brushing one of the feathery plumes that form pigtails on top of her head.

"Riolu? Ooho, no, that's Angelo, dear. I hear he and Wade don't get along so well since Wade swooped in and made a move on a girl he likes." A glimmer sparkles while she spins gossip and she covers her beak with her talons. "Oopsie me, that was a little too much information. I hope nobody holds it against me, me and my gossiping." A soft giggle tells you she isn't seriously worried. You should probably be careful how much you let slip around her, but at least you have a reliable source for the word around town.

After only a small amount of hesitation you pick up the bottle from the counter and agree to deliver it to Wade's guild base. "Okay, I-I'll do it. J-just one more thing. Could uh, c-could he sabotage me? Is that allowed?"

"Well certainly! Competitors can be as friendly or pushy as they want with each other. But I have a business to run, dear," she waggles a stubby, taloned finger at you. “Don’t go losing my potion on purpose, okay?”

Her words resonate within you as you step out of the heavily perfumed apothecary and into the street, carrying the potion in front of you while you waddle. You definitely don't want to go alone, so you need to meet up with Gwen and Spring.

You remember Victor mentioning that Tallspire had a good library, so you go looking for it. It seems like an okay spot to make the meeting point with Gwen and Spring. ~Hey um, c-can you ask the girls to meet me at the- the library? The grand library, or whatever it was called?~

~I will see it done in two shakes of a bat’s tail,~ a swish of air accompanies a mental bow from Victor, and his presence falls away from your mind.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Easily Lost (3, 10/12)
On your way down the main street, you start to realize you don't really know what the library looks like. Trying to follow your gut leads you down a pair of turns into a side street between two rows of buildings. Between the tall walls on either side not much light comes in and there are no candles or light sconces to help. It is as though the daylight has been peeled back like a curtain with your passing. When you look up, the sky is unusually dark. Covered in dark storm clouds? Maybe it’s about to rain on you.

Starting to feel lost and a more than a little worried you've wandered the day away and stumbled into the bad part of town at dusk, you notice a window where books are on display. There's a dangling bell above the door next to the window and a soft bluey purple light glows inside. "I-is this the library? It's awfully out of, uh, out of the way," you mumble to yourself and to your surprise a voice answers back. Someone fuzzy brushes up against you and a shiver runs up your spine as a large, bushy tail trails up it.

"Are you lost, honey?" a sweetly glazed voice, much more honey than your own, asks. You spin around and find yourself face to face with a vulpine Pokemon. The dark rings of fur around his eyes accentuate the bedroom eyes he flicks at you, walking past and swishing his tail just low enough to deny you a view. "From afar you looked like the sort of Pokemon to frequent Night Street. But up close, I'm not so sure." He sits down with his back to you, swaying his tail from side to side and looking over his shoulder.

"N-Night Street? Is this some kind of bad place?" you ask nervously. The Nickit flicks an ear.

"It's a little rude to call my home street a bad place, stranger. It may be a dark little corner, but we just like to keep our business private. Away from prying eyes. So, do you need directions? Or did you find what you were looking for?" The way he wiggles his rump catches your eye.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (20, 12/10)
You think this Nickit might be a prostitute.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (12, 7/10)
If you’ve really spent all this time lost, Gwen and Spring might already be waiting for you back at the library. Worried you’re late, you stammer out, "If you um, t-think the books here are any good at all, I- that is, I was looking for the library, and, well." Using an arm, you wipe at your forehead instinctively even though you don't sweat. Everything you might get out of this costs money, and money is something you were trying to get, not give.

A smile plays across the Nickit's face as he watches you stumble over yourself. All the confidence practice kind of went out of the window when you got lost and flustered. As his mouth opens, you notice a glint from between his teeth. Some sort of tongue piercing, catching on a bit of light from the storefront. "No library here. What you're looking at is Senatus' occult shop. He's like a community leader around here." His tail reaches back and the tips of its black, fluffy dipstick end brush against your chin as he twirls it. "I have some time right now, if you want me to help you back to brighter pastures? If you don't mind being seen walking around with little old me." He winks playfully.

"T-that would be really helpful! Ah, but do you think I could ask you s-something?” There is an awkward pause, and you take his silence to be a yes. "Do you know s-someone named Hustle?"

The Nickit's face purses and he looks you over twice, withdrawing his tail to sway along in the air behind him. Getting up off the ground, he turns to face you. "I can't seem to remember, Guilder. Sorry. Did you still want me to show you out?"

Feeling like you put your foot in your mouth and overstepped, you wring your claws against the handles of the bottle you're carrying and try to clear the air. "I think maybe I g-gave the wrong impression, I- did you think I'm a K-king b-bootlicker trying to send him back to prison?”

Passing by you, the Nikit turns and fixes you with his golden eyes as he goes. He stops just before leaving the dim shadows of the alleyway for the street corner he must have been working when you missed him. How strange. At the threshold of the side street the light comes back in, like a shadow was draped over this place and this place alone. "Are you suggesting you're not?"

Unsure how to answer, you hesitate. You have as much reason to be wary as he does. The King has influence everywhere, and for all you know it takes one word for him to pry information out of non-guild members. "M-maybe we can keep in touch, talk somewhere, uh, e-else? W-what should I call you?" You follow him out through the opening of the alleyway. It's like the strange quiet of that place fades in an instant, replaced by the hustle and bustle of the big town, and the absence of noise you’d barely registered feels like a slap in the face. There’s definitely something abnormal about Night Street.

"They call me Scotch. Because I'm smooth, and I can make your head spin." Without showing any signs that something was wrong, he's back to his sultry self walking away from you down the street. You glance around and notice a few people giving you two looks, so you waddle after him to catch up, and hope he's still bringing you to the library. 

Deciding to give a little bit of trust, and hope for more information, you scamper to catch up to Scotch and follow his lead. He is taking you back towards the main streets, you think. "I'm Murdoch. L-like you guessed, I'm with a Guild. G-guild leader actually."

Scotch's feet move rhythmically down the stone paved street, hips sashaying with the dainty steps of his small paws. It’s a practiced motion, you can tell. Trained to catch the eye of those passing by. The fur around his feet makes it look like he's wearing little booties. His tall, pointed ears swivel around and you feel like you're being looked at even though he's watching where he's going. It’s a casual air of disregard he has, but underneath it you can tell Scotch is more aware of the goings on around him than most everyone else. "I thought so. It's the way you hold yourself, your tail doesn't move at all."

"M-my tail?" you look back, then stumble on a stone and catch yourself, focusing on walking again.

"That's right, honey,” with only a tantalizing glimpse of the side of his face, you make out the ghost of a knowing smile. “It sits there like dead weight instead of using it properly to steady that adorably awkward waddle of yours'."

Coughing to clear your throat, you feel self-conscious about your walk, especially carrying this bottle around. You don't have your bag since you let Gwen carry it, there's really nowhere to put it.

Turning onto main street, you see Gwen and Spring just ahead waiting near a wide stone building. A wooden sign carved into the shape of a book with squiggled letters across the pages sits above the door. You don't know how you missed it. When the girls see you approaching with the swaying fox, Gwen looks at him and sniffs the air. Spring breaks into a sly smirk. "We leave you alone for this long and you get into more sexcapades without us?" she teases, but Gwen corrects her.

"Don't smell sex."

Scotch stops some feet from the pair and sits on the pavement while you catch up. "Your leader just needed some directions to the library." 

You turn to Scotch and rub a claw over your snout, feeling embarrassed. "Thanks, f-for helping me out even after I p-put my foot in my mouth. Do you um, d-do you have any advice about my tail?" With his own tail drifting from side to side behind him in a smooth wave motion, you find yourself mesmerized. Scotch turns his head to look at it and smirks.

"Try to be more aware of it. Practice some tricks with it." At this angle it's impossible to tell if he blinked, or winked to clue you into an innuendo. The fox turns and fluidly strides down the stone street away from you and the girls without so much as a farewell. So focused on watching him go, you forget one yourself.

Sniffing the air, you turn to Gwen and Spring. Naturally their eyes are drawn to the potion bottle you're carrying in both of your claws. "I thought we were saving up money?" Placing a hand on her hip, Spring juts it out and gives you a critical look.

"W-well, it's not ours'. D-don't look at me like that, I d-didn't steal it!” you swiftly cut off the look Spring gives you. “Kalina wants it delivered. It's for ah, another Guild. T-the one from here."

"What we know about them?" Gwen asks, flicking an ear. After all the talk of tails, you notice hers is wagging back and forth as she looks at you. It’s not that you’ve never noticed it before, mind. It’s just easier to mentally bookmark these things when they’re primed in your head.

"They're v-very uh, influenced by the King's knights somehow," you look either way down the street, trying to remember Kalina's directions.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Easily Lost (16, 5/12)
"She said their b-base is on the west side. And k-kind of looks like a castle. Which way was w-west again?"

>Spring Intelligence: (13, 10)
Spring steps over while you ogle at the sky trying to remember which way the sun rises and sets. You've forgotten what time it is right now. But you are startled out of your thoughts by Spring's hand wrapping around your arm and locking elbows with you. "I think I know where that is. The building gets set aside for whoever Tallspire's Guild is, most towns have them. Except the one you ended up with, it's sort of in the ass end of nowhere."

Gwen pushes up against your other side, forcing her head under your other arm so that it gets wrapped around her shoulders. She snorts and huffs at Spring. "I like there. Quiet and nice. Here too many." The two of them practically drag you forward with Spring taking the lead. Gwen tries to keep up with her, but Spring is the one that knows the way. Here and there she pretends to start going down the wrong road, making Gwen go the wrong way, and yanking you back and forth between them.

"L-ladies!" Finally you interrupt their posturing and clear your throat, trying to get them to focus. Spring giggles and rolls her eyes, while Gwen gives you a playful lick. "No, w-wh- as I was going to say. Their leader is named Wade, and he had a, a b-bit of drama with someone named Angelo. They both like the same girl, I think? B-but Wade got the girl. I don't know if Angelo is part of the Guild too."

Brushing the back of a finger under her nose, Spring leans into you, forcing you to lean into Gwen to compensate the weight. Their rough fur clumped in on either side of you feels warm, holding in the natural heat inside your scales. "Hey now, two rivals fighting over the same lover. I think I know at least one solution to their problem. Isn't that right Gwennie?" Your companion wears an apish grin and wiggles her brows. Gwen's rough, grumbling laughter answers her.

"Should not help rival so much. If you want to win." As if to punctuate the double meaning, Gwen leans into you, pushing back against Spring and further pressing you between them. The tug of war, or push of war as it is makes you feel warmth tingle between your legs.

Luckily, Spring lets up first when you get close to where you're going, and you're able to walk on your own again before something starts pitching in your kilt. The building to your right side reminds you of a big white rook chess piece. There is a thick wooden door with a bronze knocker showing the head of a substitute doll. You guess it must be a placeholder since all the guild leaders would be different kinds of Pokemon.

There is a coiled Ekans lounging in the sun on a white stone slab outside of the door, an Ekans you recognize. She looks like the one from Hoopa's list of potential partners, you think her name was Giselle. Seeing Giselle here perks you up, and you feel excited about the possibilities. If you remember right Giselle was a real powerhouse, but naive and inexperienced. Her tail is definitely not thick, her whole body is smooth and sleek, well cared-for with a natural sheen. Having an ally on the inside of this Guild would be big. "Giselle! H-hey!" You wave at her, startling her out of her nap. Her tail rattles momentarily as her head bolts up, and she fixes you with her slitted golden eyes.

"Yeah, hey. Sorry, but... do I know you?" her head angles sideways and her eyes flicker as a clear lidding flutters over them.

"O-oh um, I was looking for the local Guild. I have a delivery," you nervously laugh it off and hold out the bottle of Berry juice, letting it awkwardly hang in the air between you. She reaches out her golden-rattled tail and loops it through both of the handles, drawing it into her coils.

"Oh. Thanks! I didn't know Kalina hired new helpers," her voice is undeniably feminine, soft and light, like a feather pillow.

Spring's sporty, confident voice contrasts as she comments, "Murdoch's been helping a lot of people with odd jobs."

You've never personally met Giselle before. Only seen a photo of her, and got a peek at her skills and fetishes from Hoopa. If you remember right, her fetish was sex for procreation. Whether that means she’s really traditional or just has a kink for getting knocked-up, you’re not sure. Actually, you are sure. Sure that Hoopa would have made it intentionally ambiguous just to fuck with you.

"D-do you know much about the Guild here?" Moving right into more normal questions before you blow your cover by accident, you lean back down to all fours after Giselle takes the bottle from you. She smiles widely and a small ripple of excitement goes through her long body.

"I do! I'm actually a member of the Guild. We're going to become renowned knights."

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (18, 17)
Her answer is straightforward and energetic. You don't think she suspects you as a rival Guild at all. "What m-made you join?"

Giselle swells, lifting her chin up and thrusting forward the golden band pattern around her neck. "I've always wanted to be part of a Guild! I'm so glad Wade didn't mind that all of this is new to me. He let me in right away." She visibly swoons, her body swaying to the side and her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of violet. "Wade is such an amazing leader! Even though it's only been a short time, he's already evolved on his own!" Someone definitely has more than one kind of romance on the mind.

While Giselle isn't paying attention, Spring nudges you and rolls her eyes at the starstruck display. She struts forward, holding a hand palm up towards Giselle. "Do you think we could meet this leader of yours'?"

Snapping out of her spell, Giselle curls herself back into a more natural position. "Are you interested in joining?"

"I'm interested in the Guild business," Spring answers, diplomatically. It’s the sort of answer the corporate goons from your dad’s company would give.

"Well, the door's unlocked. So you can go right in if you want!" Slithering aside to make more room, she allows Spring to walk past onto the stone doorstep, where the Chimchar leans on the doorframe waiting for you to finish talking.

Admiring Giselle's long tail and the ease with which she uses it in place of hands, you wonder if you could ever get that good at using your tail. "S-say, you're really good at that. Do you um, think you could t-teach me?"

Twisting her head to the side again, Giselle gives you a confused look. "Good at what?"

"W-with your tail I mean, and the bottle, and a-all that,” looking back demonstratively, you swing your tail clumsily from side to side. “I’m um, n-not very good with mine.”

“Oh, this?” Giselle moves the bottle up against the outer wall, out of foot traffic. “It's nothing, just something you pick up when you're one long wiggly line, you know. How much can you flex your tail?" Peering back over your shoulder once more, you curl it around this way and that and find it surprisingly flexible, but it feels stiff, like a limb you never stretch. "That's not too bad! Try starting with tail exercises like that, just let it stretch out and limber up," Giselle advises, before stretching her mouth wide, fangs extending fiercely, and using it to open the door. Her body is powerful for her small size and she opens the heavy door with ease, like a little tube of rippling muscle. Even Gwen looks impressed, her ears standing up in surprise.

"Thought she look weak," Gwen comments to you after Gwen slithers inside. “Not.”

Spring turns and faces the both of you. "So do you want to meet mister dreamboat Murdoch? Or should we bail?" 

"I think it's worth a- a peek."

Standing up, you wrap your claws around the handle of the door. It's heavy, so you practice using your tail to grip onto the ground and help you pull. Spring reaches over your head and grabs onto the door after you get it open, holding it for you and Gwen to go inside.

The interior of the small tower has a smooth wood floor and a round table with seven stools surrounding it. A wooden stairway leads up, around in a ring, to another floor accessible through a trapdoor. Giselle, just ahead of you, slithers into a stool and coils onto it, setting the bottle in front of her. Perched on another stool across from her is a tall, regal bird Pokemon with sharp red eyes. He looks at the three of you appraisingly. Spring stays in the open doorway, leaning on the side of it. "Our potion has arrived! Thank you, Giselle."

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (13, 17)
>Wade Charm: Advantage (5, 7)
The Corvisquire speaks in a deep and commanding voice, but you can detect a strain in it. It's not his natural voice, but something he's putting on.

"Oh, there's no need to thank me, Wade. These nice Pokemon delivered it for us," Giselle looks at you with a friendly smile. Then she stops and raises her rattle in front of her mouth as a thought hits. "Oh my, I don't actually know how this works. Are we supposed to pay you for delivery?"

"No, n-no payment,” with a fanning motion of your foreclaws, you wave off her offer. “Kalina is paying me to deliver," you admit, walking closer to the table. Feeling the grain with a claw, you find the surface smooth and finished. Quality furniture. Gwen confidently takes a seat on the floor beside you, taking the measure of your new rival until their eyes meet. He blinks first.

Deciding to be direct, you hold a claw out over the table. "I'm actually another c-contestant! I was happy for an excuse to meet a-another human." Wade's eyes widen at the revelation, and he stretches out a wing, reaching for your claw. You gently wrap it around the tip of his wing, not wanting to break it. But you find his body a lot firmer than you would expect from a bird Pokemon, even if he can't give you a real handshake.

"So you are to be my foe. I hope that we shall have a clean-" as he starts to make a speech, you turn on the funny fingers and send a rush of pleasure through his wing. Wade makes an involuntary caw of surprise and yanks his wing back, wobbling on his stool. Giselle extends closer to him over the table in concern, but eh regains his balance. "I am fine, Giselle. What was that?" he asks, stage-voice cracking a little.

You can't help but giggle to yourself, and wink at the flustered bird. "Maybe getting d-dirty with the competition wouldn't be a b-bad thing?"

Folding his wing back up to his body, Wade lifts his head up and indignantly puffs out his chest. "Please, refrain from doing that again. I assume you are the one I have heard about, doing... favors for people."

Gwen growls at his disdainful attitude. "Murdoch is good person. Not speak that way."

"And yet you are clearly going for an infamy victory. I want no stain of your association on my reputation," your opponent brushes his wing upon the table, as if to wipe off the smear left by your touch. Since Wade has clearly developed a negative opinion of you, you look at Giselle instead. She has curled the edges of her mouth in distaste, following her leader's lead.

"D-do you think maybe you could tell me who is your p-patron at least?" you ask. Giselle opens her mouth and looks over at Wade, who shakes his head.

"I think you should go."

Feeling a need to be contrary, you backpedal towards the door, weaving your claws together in the air. "Ooh, infamy victory is an option? I'm onto your p-plan Wade, big s-sinister tower, beautiful and, and supportive femme fatale!" Chuckling, you make a motion of pointing to your eyes and then to him. Wade responds by huffing and throwing his head back, closing his eyes. Thinks himself above responding to your provocations.

Responding in about the opposite way, Giselle curls her head down and shakes it from side to side. "I'm not whatever that was, and our tower isn't sinister! Get out!"

You put up your claws and resume backing away towards the door, mindfully moving your tail out of the way so you don't trip over it. Partway there you turn and drop back on all fours. "Alright, a-alr- right. I'm going. But you should know, I've only b-been here a day and I've already heard rumors about you stealing s-someone's girl."

Sharp eyes shooting back open, Wade glares at you. "Giselle is not Angelo's girl, and steal her I did not. And you can tell him that should he spread rumors of me like this, he brings dishonor on the knights." Neither of them see you out, instead watching from the round table as you and your guildmates shuffle out of the door.

Gwen snorts in annoyance once you're outside. "Puffed up bird. Thinks is better than us."

"Yeah, befriending the competition didn't work out this time. Couple of prudes," folding her arms behind her head, Spring starts walking aimlessly down the street. It doesn’t sound like it bothers her too much. As you scamper after her to catch up, she makes a popping sound with her mouth and offers a suggestion. "He's going for that bounty in the dungeon too, right? Why don't we go poach it out from under him?" It’s clear why she’s so subtly pleased, now. It’s the golden opportunity for a new rivalry.

Part of you is really eager to get revenge on that snooty bird, so you nod and agree with Spring. "L-let's go."

"We can pick up our delivery fee later. The dungeon is going to be a bigger payout anyways." Sporting a broad grin on her face, Spring stretches out her arms above her head, with her fingers still intertwined.

Gwen makes a deep, gruff growling noise and bobs her head up and down, her sharp teeth bared. "He learn, we not lower. Where you think they hide?" She questions Spring while the girls take the lead together, thankfully... or maybe sadly, not dragging you around between them this time.

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (15/8)
>Gwen Intelligence: (17/10)
"You can't just drag somebody into the middle of a dungeon and have your way with them. Empties would get in the way. That means-" wherever Spring is going with it, you aren't able to follow very well. The way this world works is still new to you after all. But Gwen's ears perk up and you notice a sharpness to her eyes.

"Secret base."

A finger snap. "No doubt about it. And if I was an outlaw looking to make a secret base, I would go to the Old Fort."

You and the girls reach one of the bridges crossing the river out of Tallspire. Getting back up on two legs, you try to walk more confidently using your tail for balance. The Ledian guard doesn't stop anyone to ask questions. Outside of the town are wide fields and a dirt road going between the tall grass. "W-what's this old fort?" you ask. Gwen answers you this time.

"Old Guild base. Abandoned. Turned into dungeon. Normal Type, Fighting, lots there."

The dirt is soft underneath your feet, offering better traction than the stone roads inside the town. You find it a little easier to walk out here, and take some time to explore with your tail. Becoming aware of how it swings back and forth with the motion of your hips, something you were trying to fight against before. A pleasant breeze rustles the grass on either side. "Can you tell me more about the old b-base? What's s-so special about it?" you wonder.

Spring takes out a wooden bottle and sips from a clear liquid inside. You don't smell any Berry juice or alcohol, so you think it might just be water. Stoppering it again, she stuffs it into her bag before answering. "It was one of Diancie's Guilds. One of the powers they got was making places into Mystery Dungeons. Caused a whole lot of trouble making them in towns." You hear Gwen puff a big breath out of her nose. Something seems to be bothering her. She looks away while Spring continues the explanation. "So anyways, he made his whole Guild base into a dungeon out here. Since it's close to town but hard for most Pokemon to delve into, it got popular with outlaws for making secret bases."

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (2, 7/10)
That's the third time you've heard them say secret base now. "S-secret base? What's that?"

"Huh? Oh, right." Turning around ahead of you, Spring shows off by walking backwards down the road. "By using the Secret Power move, a Pokemon can make a secret room in the wall of a Mystery Dungeon. They were originally ways for dungeoneers and Guilds to rest on the way down, but they got popular with outlaws for hideouts."

"Need move to get in," this time it’s Gwen who Gwen speaks. Her ears flick and she juts her nose ahead. Spring looks behind her, and you can see over the tall grass ahead there are wooden walls visible.

"Almost there. And Gwen's right, we can't get inside the secret base without Secret Power to open the door. That means we need to come up with a plan." The monkey stops walking and Gwen sits down beside you on the road.

Looking nervously up at the wooden posts that form the walls of the old fort, you chuckle and rub your arm. "Sounds like we need some b-bait. I wonder who could look h-helpless enough to attract outlaws on the road, haha."

Snorting a laugh, Spring stands athletically on just one foot and reaches up under your kilt, groping you with her agile paw. You have to lean back on your tail to keep your balance as she teases you, quickly getting you hot and bothered. "You're always eager to put your body on the line for a job, aren't you Murry?" Hearing her accidentally use Hoopa's nickname for you again causes your breath to catch and you can't bring yourself to make any attempts to stop her. To your disappointment, Spring takes her paw away and shakes her head at you. "But I'm not sure we want to risk you getting trapped in some weirdo's rape dungeon, no matter how horny you are. Right Gwen?"

"No. No one steal you from me," Gwen agrees, moving next to you and rubbing up against you protectively.

With a nervous grin, you pat her head and ask shakily, "W-well how do you usually do this, as b-bounty hunters?"

"Well. Let me list them off," Spring rests one arm across her chest and lays her elbow on the wrist, counting off on her fingers. "Get help from someone with Secret Power. Use a Secret Orb to open it, we could find one in the dungeon if we're lucky. Catch one of the outlaws outside and make them let us in. Or draw them out with bait."

"S-so my bait plan could work?" your bandana frills perk up.

Reaching into Gwen's bag, Spring takes out the wanted poster and looks at it. "It could. Either you or me could be the bait, Gwen is too intimidating." She doesn't deny it, either. You reach over and scratch her chin to let her know you still think she's cute, making her close her eyes as the tension drains out of her.

Spring reads out what few details about the outlaws there are. "It says they're a group of rodent Pokemon. One confirmed sighting of a Rattata. Another might be either a Furret or Linoone, but witnesses weren't sure." 

>2 votes for bait
>Rolling to break tie: Murdoch as bait
Twiddling your digits together, you think it over. Maybe it's the warmth in your crotch, but you don't mind getting groped and stepped on by some rodents as long as the girls are there. "I think it's b-best if I do it, still. I mean you and Gwen are, well, a-are the fighters here right? If you be the b-bait and they knock you out we're at a disadvantage."

One of Spring's hands claps you on the shoulder. "Alright, that makes sense. We'll be close by Gwen, so try not to worry too much okay?" She reassures the Poochyena, who looks less happy with the plan. Her ears are lying back against her head and she's staring down the road.

"Okay. Soon as we see, we attack," she asserts, baring her teeth.

"Y-yeah. Even if we can only get one we c- we could get them to help us get the others." The girls nod in agreement, Gwen with hesitation.

"Just go down the road and hang around. Try to look sexy or something?" Spring suggests, giving you a pat on the tail as she and Gwen slip away into a small thicket of trees to find a hiding place. You're left alone on the rapist-prowled dirt road with a half tent in your kilt.

Walking forward, you turn your head every which way looking for things out of place. The closer you get to the fort the bigger you realize it is. Was it always like that, you wonder, or did turning it into a dungeon make it grow? You can't hear the girls anymore when you reach a fork in the road. One of the paths leads towards the gates of the fort, made out of wooden logs like the rest. Slowing down, you wonder how to look like a tempting target.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Easily Lost (9, 13/12)
Deciding to wander around the area on your own, you pace back and forth along the road for a while before realizing that might look suspicious. Hesitantly, you step into the tall grass to pretend you're lost.

Pushing through tall stalks of grass, you look around and realize you can no longer make out the walls of the fort clearly. Or the break in the grass where the road is. "I-I think I might be lost." And not as a ploy. A little bit of worry flutters in your chest when you realize the girls might not have been able to see where you've gone either. Spinning around, you shake the grass with a rustling noise as your tail passes along them.

At this point, you aren't very visible either. Maybe if you made some noise you could get someone's attention. Then you're stopped as a few thorny brambles growing among the grass roots snag your kilt. "H-hey!" With a startled yelp, you grab your kilt and try to tug it free, but you don't really want to rip it. It's your only article of clothing after all. Only when you calm down do you realize it was a tangle that caught your kilt, and not someone else. Panting, you call out uncertainly, deciding to hope for the best. "Is anyone there? I-I think I'm stuck!"

You hear movement in the grass behind you. Turning around, you come face to face with a Rattata standing in the grass. "What's wrong there, squeeze? Got your dress caught on something?" the rat asks in a crude voice, clicking his tongue against his large front teeth in a tutting noise. "This is why you shouldn't wear frilly things out in the country."

Swaying your hips, you bring your tail into the motion while you look back at the rat with half lidded eyes. "D-do you think m-maybe you could help me?" with the best innocent blink in your eyes, you try to seem non-threatening. And maybe even a little… tempting?

>Murdoch Charm: (19)
>Rattata Intelligence: (9)
His mouth twitches wide and he slowly pads towards you, sliding a paw up your back as he rises onto two legs behind you. "I like a lady who knows what she wants. Let me just get a good grip here." Not much tempting needed to get him handsy. He wraps his forelegs around you, and you can feel his heavy, swollen sack pressing against the hot surface of your back. The Rattata sucks in air as the wave of heat hits him, a dripping wet spot of pre beading at the end of his sheath and against your tail. One of his paws rests on your belly, rubbing up and down, while the other grabs onto the spot where your kilt is stuck.

Since you don't know if the collar will work yet, you keep it hidden until you know Gwen and Spring have found you. Reaching up and placing one claw overtop of the paw rubbing your belly. "Make sure to take it slow, o-okay? I don't want to r-rip the cloth."

"I'm not a patient guy. But since you been so accommodating, I guess I can be a gentlemon just this once," the paw holding onto your kilt gradually starts to lift it. There's a sound like velcro coming apart as the thorny bramble is slowly separated from your garment without ripping it.

>Murdoch Fitness: (17)
With the kilt free, the Rattata lets all of his weight press down on you. You are able to keep from getting knocked to the ground, but he starts to rub his nuts up and down along your tail, and you can hear him breathing heavily. "Aw yeah. You're smooth, baby." His husky voice whispers in your ear. The paw that was holding your kilt slips beneath the waistband, and finds your half erect dick poking out of your slit. The revelation that you're not a girl doesn't do much to dissuade him. Despite yourself, you moan at the contact when he wraps himself around you.

>Rattata Fitness: Advantage (5, 15)
>Murdoch Intelligence: (6, 2)
Lost in the moment, you don't notice his other paw slip out from under your claw. It slides back along your thigh and through the waistband. You only notice something off when you feel a cold, metal sensation against your body. Then against your dick and sliding down into your cock slit.

By the time you realize what's happening, he clicks the lock on the chastity cage into place. "H-hey!" caught by surprise, you yelp and try to shove him off. His paw shoots up and wraps around your muzzle, holding it shut and muffling your voice.

"Shh,” the rat shushes in your ear. “Don't you worry, I know exactly how to treat a lady with accessories."

>Gwen Intelligence: Odor Sleuth (17/8)
>Spring Intelligence: Survival (15/8)
Before he can go further and force you onto the ground, you hear the sounds of fighting in the brush. Gwen comes sailing out of the grass with a vengeance.

>Gwen Fitness: Tackle, Advantage (8, 15/10)
Her powerful body impacts the Rattata, knocking him away from you and sending him rolling. She nudges you with her nose, ushering you out of the way.

You’re not about to leave Gwen to do all the fighting.

>Murdoch Fitness: Double Slap, 5 attacks, Combat, Inaccurate (5, 12, 15, 9, 17/13)
Before the Rattata can get back up from Gwen tackling him, you run in and grab him by the scruff on his head. Mind still spinning, he tries to hold up his paws to protect his face as you swing your claw back and forth, slapping him around. He falls back with a bruised cheek.

>Rattata is majorly injured!
>Rattata Fitness: Quick Attack (12/10)
Wobbling back on two legs, the Rattata drops back down onto all fours. Even with one cheek puffy from being beaten on, he suddenly shoots forwards and bounds off of your chest with his feet, knocking the wind out of you.

>Murdoch is minorly injured
>Rattata Fitness: Tackle (3/10)
Flipping backwards, he comes at you again, but you roll out of the way and he skids to a halt right in front of Gwen's growling face.

>Gwen Fitness: Bite, Advantage, Combat (2, 11/8)
She grabs the Rattata by the face with her jaws and forces him to the ground, pressing him down with her paw. When he stops struggling and faints, she lets go.

>Rattata has fainted!

When you spin around to celebrate with Gwen, you find her already turned away and bounding the way she came. "Spring fighting!" the grass she pushes aside you can see that Spring is delivering a flurry of punches and kicks to a Furret, who is trying to defend himself.

The girls look like they have it well in hand. Staying back, you turn around and pull out your golden collar. You slide it onto the Rattata's neck, stretching it out and then closing it. Once it sits snugly, you can see it gleam for a second before it goes away.

>Furret Intelligence: Defense Curl (4/10)
The second outlaw tries to protect himself with his tail, but with Gwen coming up from behind he's distracted into losing focus.

>Spring Fitness: Fury Swipes, Advantage, Combat, Inaccurate (14, 3; 6, 4; 3, 11; 8, 5/13)
Swinging her paws and hands in wild swipes, Spring catches the Furret only once before he regains his bearings. He spins around her attacks easily with his flexible body.

>Furret is moderately injured!
>Gwen Fitness: Bite, Advantage, Combat (6, 4/8)
Already hurt from fighting Spring, the Furret swoops away from Gwen and makes ready to run for it.

>Murdoch Power: Flame Burst, Disadvantage, Combat (10, 5/8)
Taking in a deep breath, you try to hork out a gob of flaming spit. But you cough and spit it down on the ground in front of you. It doesn't splatter much, and just flickers with small cinders.

>Furret Fitness: Slam, Advantage (18, 1/10)
Deciding now is the time to go on the offensive instead of getting overwhelmed, the Furret spins around and slams his tail into Spring with more force than you would expect from such a soft, wiggly body. Thrown away from him, Spring gets back up and grunts, placing the back of a hand against her back. "Think I sprained something. Look out Gwen, he's tougher than he looks!"

>Spring takes Paralysis status
>Spring is moderately injured!
>Spring Power: Ember, Advantage, Combat (19, 13/8)
Taking a powerful breath of her own, Spring shoots a controlled jet of fire out of her mouth that singes the Furret. He quickly pats out the cinders on his face.

>Furret takes Burn status
>Furret is majorly injured!
>Gwen Fitness: Bite, Advantage, Combat (10, 14/8)
Coming up behind the Furret, Gwen catches his tail in her mouth and holds on as he tries to shake her off. He's moving more slowly and weakly now.

>Furret is critically injured!

>Murdoch Fitness: Clumsy (17/12)
>Murdoch Fitness: Double Slap, Combat, Inaccurate (19, 10, 4/13)
Hurrying closer, you quickly close the distance by scurrying on all fours, and jump on top of the Furret. The two of you roll along the ground until you come up on top, straddling his wiggly torso. Lifting up one claw, you deliver a slap across the face that finally knocks the fight out of him.

>Furret fainted

Panting, you lean back, flushing a little at the feeling of the rodent's fur against you, and the telltale bump of his sheath against your tail. Swallowing back your Salandit instincts- or so you blame- you scamper off of him and check on Spring. Gwen comes over and sits next to you, Spring stiffly using her as a platform to help walk. "Don't suppose either of you is a good masseuse?" your simian companion asks. She grins even through the aches and pains, though. "You did pretty good there, Murry. Just these two would get us a cool 200 Poke. But if we wanted to really stick it to birdbrain we need the third."

Gwen grunts in agreement. "Yes. Catch all." She licks the side of your face affectionately, leaving a trail of slobber along your cheek. "Good job."

Coming out on top of the Furret has you excited in more ways than one. You were actually able to help the girls this time without resorting to your usual desperate tactics, something that makes you swell with pride. While feeling the defeated outlaw's fur between your legs swells something else, and reminds you of the pressure between your legs and the feeling of cold metal. The cage can be felt against your cock and against the walls of your genital slit, and you realize it's going to be a problem to get off. "W-watch this guy!" you tell Spring, sliding off of the Furret. She takes a seat next to the outlaw, rubbing her sore back.

"Don't have to tell me twice."

Coming up next to the Rattata you collared, you check on him. He's still fainted from the smacking he took. Taking him by the shoulders, you shake him awake. His eyes flutter, disoriented. "Wha?"

The aching question sits in your throat begging to be let out. But you start by laying some ground rules to your newly collared rat slave. "L-listen up! You have to do what I say, b-because of this collar. And I order you to d-do what they say too.” You jab a clawed finger over at Gwen and Spring who are watching the other outlaw. “Got it?"

The Rattata reaches up with his little paws and rubs his eyes. He wraps them around the collar and tries to pull it off, but he's not able to find an opening or slide it over his head. "Fuck. Looks like you got the better of me. Now what?" Clicking his tongue against his large buck teeth the rat closes his eyes and sits up on his hind legs. His cheeks have swollen from the slapping around he took.

Taking in a deep breath, you rattle off ground rules, "N-no escaping, or helping your friends es- escape. And no hostile actions against us. In fact, if y-your friends try something warn us and stop it. G-got it?"

Automatically, like someone else was moving him, the Rattata nods his head and agrees. "Got it, Master." Afterwards he blinks and purses his mouth. So far it looks like the collar is working!

“Good,” You scratch your snout. Being called ‘master’ feels weird. “Now t-tell me if there's a-anyone else in your gang, and where! And this- the cage, where's the key?" You finally ask, reaching over to pat him down. He only has a small pouch on his hip with some fresh greens in it.

 He tries to give you a saucy look when your fingers feel him up, but the collar makes him answer you anyways instead of whatever lewdness he was about to say. "The boss is waitin’ in our base, that's where the key to your cage is.”

"How you get him to talk?" You startle when Gwen’s voice comes up behind you and talks right in your ear. 

Reaching up to your own neck, you run your claw along the golden collar you wear. "It's one of- of Hoopa's collars. L-like my fingers, it's a gift we got for doing well! It makes outlaws we defeated d-do as we say. Or er, o-one at a time at least."

Brushing up against you, Gwen takes a seat at your side and looks seriously at your newly augjt Rattata. "Then lead us to base. You can get in?"

He helplessly waves his paws in the air and agrees. "Yes, Mistress. I can open the base up for you bunch." A grim scowl settles on his face when the collar forces him to speak.

Getting a playfully naughty idea to punish his crimes, you tap your chin and put on a wide mischievous grin. "Since you kept t-treating me like a girl, I order you to act as girly as you can until I tell you otherwise."

The order takes effect immediately. Acting like he expects a girl should, the Rattata poses himself more daintily and flutters his eyelashes. When he speaks his voice is more high pitched, but obviously he's not a very good actor. "You bet Master. I'll be the girliest girl you ever saw." Your new Rattata doesn’t exactly seem trustworthy, but you don’t need to keep him around forever. The collar comes off.

Gwen snorts a laugh beside you. Then you hear Spring calling. "Hey, any of you any good at massages? I could really use one before we get going." The body slam she took from the Furret must still have her in bad shape if she’s bringing it up again.

"W-well, do you want to give her a m-massage?" you ask, looking sideways at the rat.

He raises one paw and lifts his head up, smiling. "Can do, girlfriend," squeaking flamboyantly he walks over to Spring, and you follow with Gwen. He can still barely walk with his injuries. She eyes him suspiciously. But she lays down on her stomach in the grass anyways, folding her arms under her chin. The Rattata crawls over her legs. Folding the fingers of his paw interlocked together, he stretches them and reaches down, grabbing a pair of big pawfuls of her butt and kneading them with his pads.

The half-lidded eyes tell you Spring expected as much, and she shoots one foot up, smacking the heel into his sizeable nuts and making him fall forwards on top of her. At first you think he might just be using it as an excuse to perv again when he stays there, but you realize he's fainted again.

Rolling her eyes, Spring pushes him off of her. "Okay, we gave your outlaw a trial run. How about somebody else?"

Imitating his motions, you stretch out your claws and step up behind Spring where she's lying on the ground. You don't mind taking care of this yourself. It's tempting to bug Spring by doing the same thing as the pervy rat, and normally you probably would just to see how much you can poke her before she turns the tables on you. But since she's actually hurting right now you decide to be sincere.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (5, 17/12)
Feeling up along her back with your knuckles, you detect her wincing and reacting in certain spots. Her muscles are tense, and it feels like she pulled something. You might not be a professional masseuse, but you know a thing or two. Your old girlfriend used to make you give them to her a lot before things fell apart.

Careful not to dig in with your sharp claws, you knead and roll the sore and tense muscles with your palms and knuckles. Spring grunts and relaxes. Gwen comes over to watch you work, paying attention to your technique. "Look nice. You do before?"

"Y-yeah. It doesn't bring back great memories." Wanting to get your thoughts off of the past and into the much more enjoyable present, you lean forward and push up your hind legs as far as they can go to give Spring a playful spank across the butt with your tail. The soft skin bounces and ripples from the contact, making you feel a little tingle against your caged slit. Looking back over her shoulder with one eye, Spring sets it right on you. "J-just doing some tail training~"

"You're lucky you made it nice before you got pervy. Ah, go ahead if you want," dropping her head back into place, she sighs in relief when you work out another sore spot. Feeling encouraged, you give her rear another soft smack with your tail and watch it jiggle satisfyingly. Letting your claws stray lower but keeping the massage going, you work your way down to give her a feel and a squeeze. That's when you realize how your crotch had been hovering over her flame tail this whole time. You'd not even noticed the warmth that had sunk into the cold cage. It doesn't seem to burn either. Maybe it's like Rapidash. Or other species? That’s the one you’ve heard about before.

Tracing a claw softly across Spring’s shoulder, you ask, "D-do you want me to use my j-joybuzzer?"

Spring cracks an eye open and looks back at you again, before she realizes what you mean. "Sure, I guess it can't hurt." Pressing your fingers in, you start to turn them on. You feel Spring's legs straighten out and curl underneath you in response.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Advantage,(13)
>Spring Lewd: (20)
Even keeping the fingers up through the whole massage, Spring is able to keep herself from going over the edge. Her flame tail twitches back and forth needily against your crotch, but there's nothing you can do with it even if you wanted to. It's kind of almost... nice, not having to worry about going off unexpectedly just from giving a girl a massage. Even if you can feel some moisture dripping from your tip and wetting your slit.

After Spring feels better, you reluctantly drag yourself off of her. You can see Gwen eying the scene lustfully- enviously- and you still have a job to do. Spring pushes herself up off the ground and stretches her back, with deep breath of released tension. "We should do that again sometime. When we can properly follow it up and get everyone involved." She scratches Gwen under the chin with one of her paws, your Poochyena partner growling out a deep thrumming purr of approval.

"And you still owe me."

Spring quirks her head at Gwen's assertion. "Huh? For what?"

"Last night." Getting up, Gwen pushes past Spring and brushes the tip of her tail over Spring's face. Twitching and rubbing her nose to get rid of the ticking furs, Spring watches Gwen go.

"Right, last night. Guess I don't mind making it a thing." Laughing a little, Spring stops just before she follows Gwen to the dungeon. "It would be a pain to drag the Furret around. We'll already have the pervy rat slowing us down, awake or not. Should one of us stay here and watch the other guy?"

You take a look at Spring, and she's still a little banged up from the fight even with her back feeling better. Plus you just got her all worked up and distracted. "G-go ahead and watch him. Me and Gwen can t-totally handle it."

“I won’t say no to a break,” rolling her shoulder, Spring sits back down. She looks a little disappointed, licking at her teeth and tapping her fingers on the ground. "Fine. I'll come in after you if you're gone too long."

Smiling, you raise your innermost claw in an attempt at a thumbs up and crawl over to the Rattata. Grabbing onto the scruff of his neck, you send a buzz through his body. He moans in his sleep and bucks against the ground, slowly blinking awake again. "Wha?" he mumbles again in confusion like last time, before the orders you gave kick in and he sits up, swinging his arms around in a girly way while he inspects his sore nuts. He gives Spring a lewd look and a wink. "Worth it." A flash of her teeth warns he might earn himself a knuckle upside the head.

Taking him by the wrist, you drag him after Gwen before Spring can knock him out again. He's not able to move very fast right now.

Breaking out of the grass, you find Gwen waiting for you in front of the intimidating wooden gates of the fort. Whoever built it put extra effort into giving it a fearsome decoration job, with skull motifs and everything. Or maybe the outlaws just gave it their own touches. "You said you c-can get us into the base right? You have Secret P- Power?" He sways his hips from side to side deliriously, his sack swaying with them as he hums affirmatively. "Okay. How f-far in is it?"

"Second floor, Master," he growls the word in a feminine drawl. Joining Gwen by the gate, you take a breath and psych yourself up for another dungeon. The gate itself is your first challenge. You'll need to lift it up to get inside.

"How do you guys uh, n-normally get in?" you ask over your shoulder, he and his friend don't look very large after all. He steps over to the gate and leans down, pressing his head between the widest of its uneven prongs. His ears fold back and then pop out again on the other side.

Looking back at you with his rump sticking out in front of you, he twitches his ear and bats his eyes. "Just like that, Master. Bet you can make it too."

If you crawled low to the ground, you would definitely be able to get through. Gwen is a little broader around the shoulders though, and taller than you are. Luckily she's thinking ahead of you, and starts to dig out the ground under the gate to make room for herself to slip through. Your rat boy tries to squeeze his rump through, his large rear and package giving him trouble. You can't help but think that a bow or a ribbon would look nice around his tail, to draw attention to his assets. Heaving a sigh, he asks, "Think you could give me a hand? I'm still a little woozy, Master." Beside him, Gwen has already dug herself an entrance tunnel and slipped inside. Rolling your eyes at his delays, you grab onto his rear and give him a forceful shove through. He groans as he squeezes through, sighing in relief this time once he emerges on the other side.

Sliding through easily yourself, you stand up next to him to remind him, "You could have just used the hole Gwen m-made. M-maybe you like being the damsel in distress more than the outlaw," you tease him, causing him to blush underneath his fur, something you can see in the reddening in his ears. "Keep it up and I'll p-put this cage on you after I g-get it off."

Taking the lead into the tunnel, Gwen follows behind you with the rat boy bringing up the rear with his whiskers twitching and his big disc ears shielding his flushed face.

Unlike the glass labyrinth you can still see the sky in here, making it brighter. It would be less foreboding if not for the shadows cast by the tall, sharp wooden walls that rise up to either side. When you move between crawling and standing positions, you see they appear to grow taller or shorter with you. Is it an optical illusion, or if someone tried to fly over them would they just keep growing, you wonder?

Just as you hit the first room you remember to give the rat boy another order. "O-oh. And no warning your b-boss or allies, or anything."

There’s a hint of disappointment in the following, "Of course, Master."

The room is more like an open courtyard. Green, well kept cut grass welcomes your clawed toes by slipping between them. You can see a short opening into another courtyard ahead, another corridor right beside it, and to your right on the far side of the courtyard is another path. Standing in the middle of the room wearing a serious glare is a Farfetch'd with a huge leek over its shoulder. You can tell by its eyes that it is an Empty. Another smaller, meeker looking Farfetch'd is in the next courtyard walking around as if on patrol, but hasn't seen you yet. "Are these guys w-with you?" you ask the rat boy, who is hiding behind Gwen. He quickly shakes his head.

"They're Empties, course not, Master!"

Gwen moves out of the hallway to stand beside you, preparing to confront the one moving in on your position. She shoots forward the moment it gets close.

>Gwen Fitness: Bite, Advantage, Combat (7, 15/8)
She chomps onto the Empty, but her bite has no effect. The Farfetch'd shakes her off and ignores her, stepping closer to you instead.

>Not Very Effective

"D-do you have some way around them?" you quickly ask.

"Just run Master, baby,” the outlaw squeaks with faux affection, “Fight if we have to."

>Farfetch'd Fitness: Rock Smash (11/10)
The big vegetable strikes you in the chest and knocks you back, but you feel fine. Rat boy stays behind you, still too weak to fight.

>Not Very Effective

Deciding not to waste time on the Farfetch'd, you look at your Rattata and give him his orders. "Follow Gwen. G-get him through here and look for the st- the stairs." Knowing at least one of the Empty's attacks is too weak to hurt you, You circle around to let the Rattata hobble by, using the walls for support. Gwen takes the path out to the right, leading him, so they don't catch the attention of the other Farfetch'd.

>Farfetch'd Fitness: Rock Smash (8/10)
You skip backwards out of the way of the next swing and scamper away after Gwen and... you realize you still don't know the rat's name.

Going around a quick turn, you find a split in the path. Ahead is a long thin room, where you can see an Oran Berry lying on the bed of grass. But you can't see what else might be in the room. To the left you can see a smaller room with wooden stairs leading down. The Farfetch'd follows until the hallway, then returns to its position in the previous room. Slowing down at the intersection, you stop to ask. "D-did you happen to see a Corvisquire or a- an Ekans in the area?" Running into them already inside here would be messy. But the Rattata just shakes his head no.

>Navigation Tiebreaker: Stairs
Not wanting to risk walking into some kind of trap, you lead Gwen down the pathway to the stairs. You have plenty of Oran Berries already. The small room is empty, so you step carefully down the stairs. You crawl down and exit a doorway into another small room. When you look back, Gwen and the Rattata are behind you, but the stairs are completely gone. Strangest of all, the open sky is still above you over the walls. "Alright rat boy, w-we're here. How do we get to the base?" you ask. He holds a tuft of fur from his ear in a paw, running it back and forth daintily.

"Rat boy? Thought I was your rat girl, Master...” an exasperated sigh is audible in his voice, but at the same time his inner ears redden slightly. :Call me Arvo, if you want." Letting go of his ear, he points at the walls. "Look for a circle on the wall, Master. That's where we get in the base from." Turning around, you can't see any in this room. So you start by taking the one hallway out of it. There are two ways to go, one left and one right.

Left is always a good guess. Turning left down the hallway, you turn a corner and come to a dead end. The walls close in ahead with no way through. Groaning in annoyance, you turn around. Gwen is at the back, so she takes the lead. As you turn around the corner again though, a Machop with Empty eyes comes out of the room you just left. "B-but it was a dead end!" At first you panic, with Gwen stuck up against a Fighting type alone, with you behind Arvo and unable to reach her. But the Machop only stands there looking past her, as if there was an invisible, impassible obstacle in the way. "U-uh, Gwen? Is that normal?"

>Gwen Fitness: Tackle, Advantage, Combat (19, 20/8)
>Critical Hit!
Rather than answer, she charges straight into the Machop, jumping up and pressing her hind legs against it. She jumps off, kicking it into a wall. The Empty flashes and disappears like the others you've defeated before. "I-is that normal? Is something wrong with the, with the Empties here?" you ask Arvo, but he looks just as confused as you are.

"Nothin’ I know ‘bout, Master," he drones.  Looking past him at Gwen, you can see her ears folded back and her avoiding your look. Something she doesn’t want to talk about is on her mind.

"We go," she says simply, taking the lead down the other hallway. You urge Arvo forward from behind with a tap on his rear and catch up to her in another courtyard. There are two short halls from this one leading into other courtyards. You catch up to beside Gwen, but she's looking between the two pathways, her face all business.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (9, 12/10)
You remember from your first dungeon. From all the Empties you fought, none of them went for Gwen unless she attacked them first. And she somehow got both of you out of that big fight without another scratch when you fainted. Whatever is up, you certainly don't want to discuss it in front of Arvo. You poke the rat boy on the behind to make him keep going and follow Gwen. She turns left and brings you into a new dungeon courtyard. There is a Cheri Berry sitting on the ground at the far left side of the room, and on your right is a tiny closet-like nook in the wall.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (17, 9/10)
Inside of your nook you can see a square indent on the wall, and you remember Arvo said that the outlaw base would have one of those showing where it is.

Feeling too suspicious of the Bift berry to go take it, you nudge Arvo's behind towards the indentation. "H-here we are. Before we go in, t-tell me more about the rest of your group.”

Swinging his head around to look at you past his cute bottom, Arvo's whiskers twitch. He stands up on two legs again and waddles along while he tweaks his whiskers with a paw. It looks like his awkward walk is less from inexperience and more from how pent up he is. "Don't worry, Master. All's that's left is our boss Noll."

Gwen takes a seat next to the nook while Arvo steps inside. She grunts and swats at his tail. "More. Detail." The rat's curly tail swivels away and he turns around, bringing it up to hold it in his paws and daintily rub the spot she swiped. You can tell it's not really hurt and he's just fishing for sympathy points.

"Noll is a big, strong Scorbunny,” he swoons coquettishly, “You should be careful of his powerful kicks, Mistress." No entertainment is given to the antics caused by your oder. A serious nod is all Gwen gives him, but she says more to you.

"Could be tough. We have plan, before go in?"

Turning around again to the wall, Arvo clasps his front paws together and looks like he's meditating. Three white lights come up out of the ground, prismatic trails flowing behind them as they start to orbit his head. He cracks one eye open and looks at you for the signal. "Alright. Arvo, open it up and g-go seduce your boss. And no w-warning him either." The rat boy's eyes go wide, for the first time ruffled by an order.

Arvo stutters back, "M-master, you serious?" Thinking how much fun this is going to be, you reach out and give him a clap on the cheeks.

"Good girls don't talk back. Besides. You were out here to get laid right?" you remind him cruelly.

"Hff. Use own medicine," Gwen seems to be on board with putting this rapist rat in his place and stares him down. “We will be coming. Nothing will happen.” Gulping, the rat boy puts on an uncertain smile. The collar glows as he reluctantly agrees.

"Sure thing, Master,” he says through clenched buck teeth, “Whatever you want." The three lights glide smoothly into the indentation in the wall and fill it up like a container of bright liquid. The wall fades away and disappears revealing another hallway hidden inside. At the end it splits either way. Arvo takes the lead and turns right at the end still swaying his hips in as effeminate a way as he can manage.

You stay hidden with Gwen while he talks to someone inside. As soon as he rounds the corner someone with a rough voice questions him. "Arvo? Where's Roman? And why do you look like somebody kicked the shit outta you?"

"Last mark was more than we could handle,” struggling against the girlish squeal forced into his voice, Arvo reports, “They… got away."

"So what, you two give up?” you hear someone slap their knee. “What you come crawling back to me alone for, whinin’ like a little bitch?"

You can hear Arvo nervously clearing his throat and laughing, which your collar makes him turn into another coquettish giggle. "I thought, maybe I could m-make it up to you boss. How about I start with uh, sucking you off?" You can hear someone sputter and hold back a laugh. But from where you are there's no way to see more than that.

After a small fit, the other voice answers, "What now, you turn into some kind of gay boy Arvo?"

"How about I show you I can be just as good a girl as any of our guests boss?" You hear the shifting of some weight on top of a beanbag chair, and someone gasping. But everything is frustratingly out of view.

You just can't resist taking a look at the saucy action going on just out of sight. But before you give into your perverse curiosity, you look back at Gwen. She doesn't seem to be enjoying it the same way you are. Her face is still serious, on the job as she waits for the right moment to go in. "Do you smell anyone else?" you quietly breathe out, doing your best not to compulsively stutter or make any noises that could be heard inside. Gwen takes a deep sniff in through her nose and silently shakes her head.

Licking at your teeth, you carefully angle your head to peek inside without your long snout giving you away.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Clumsy (15, 1)
>Noll Intelligence: Big Ears, Distracted (6)
The moment your eye clears the corner of the wooden wall, you can see scene laid out. There's a whole red tent set up inside of another courtyard. Arvo is laid out on a carpet in front of his boss, a tough looking Scorbunny lounging on a beanbag chair. All of their furniture looks poorly matched and probably stolen.

Rat boy's face is rested comfortably between the bun's legs, and Noll has put his large paws up on Arvo's back, wrapping them around his head and using him as a footrest. Grabbing Arvo by the scruffy fur on his head, Noll pulls him in deeper. "Just watch that tooth, or I'll bust out the open mouth gag." The bunny's foot twitches and curls as Arvo mumbles into his crotch. Then he leans his head back and closes his eyes to enjoy it. Arvo's tongue flicks out, licking the sheath of Noll's hardening shaft. The rat's butt wiggles back and forth. Either enjoying it or trying to signal you to step in. Now would be the perfect time to jump in and hit the bunny while he's got his eyes closed, lost in the moment. It'd be a shame to interrupt so soon... but you have better ways to pleasure yourself now.

You look back at Gwen and nod. She reacts almost immediately, bolting around the corner and bounding off of the wall into a flying leap.

>Gwen Fitness: Tackle, Advantage, Combat (3, 19/8)
She lands on top of Noll on the beanbag chair, surprising him and holding him down. "Fuck!" He tries to reach up and grab her, but she pins his arms.

>Noll is minorly injured
>Noll is Grappled by Gwen!

"Arvo, attack!" you yell at the rat boy. Startled by the sudden entrance of the Poochyena above him, he none the less can't resist the order and bites down.

>Arvo Fitness: Quick Attack, Faint Disadvantage (7, 5/10)
>Arvo Fitness: Struggle, Faint Disadvantage (13, 5/10)
He tries to bite down, but Noll wisens up when he hears you yelling and pushes Arvo away. The bunny's erect dick slips out of his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva behind. Slipping into the room behind Gwen, you still have an opening before Noll can defend himself.

>Murdoch Fitness: Double Slap, Combat, Inaccurate (9, 3, 7, 10/13)
Crawling closer, you raise your claw to slap at the naughty bun's exposed balls. But he sees you coming in the corner of his eye and sets his foot against your face, shoving you back. "Oh, you are in big trouble, rat," he hollers at Arvo.

>Noll Fitness: Double Kick, Advantage, Combat (3, 9; 12, 16/8)
Pulling his legs in, Noll strikes Gwen in a brutal double kick. He flips her off of him and she flies into the wall, falling to the ground. Stumbling from side to side with her head spinning, she passes out.

>Super Effective!
>Gwen has Fainted

A sudden rush of panic hits you. Rolling to your feet, you stutter and try to call out to Arvo, "A-a-“ choking on the name, you manage to force out the order, “Get him!" Seeing Gwen go down, you desperately hope Arvo can pull his weight in this.

>Arvo Fitness: Quick Attack, Faint Disadvantage (7, 7/10)
>Arvo Power: Secret Power, Advantage Faint Disadvantage (19/10)
Arvo plants his paws on Noll's chest and tries to push him back down onto the bag when he gets up, but Noll doesn't budge. Ears and whiskers twitching, Arvo uses Secret Power to hurl three spiraling energy blasts into his boss. White lightning runs across Noll's body and he stiffens, his joints locking up.

>Noll is majorly injured
>Noll is Paralyzed!

>Murdoch Fitness: Double Slap, Combat, Inaccurate (2, 15/13)
Pulling together what confidence you have left, you remind yourself that you have an advantage over this outlaw bun in types. Winding back, you take a swing at him, but he leans back, a slick tilt of the body avoiding your strike. When he tries to move forward again to return the favor, you backhand him across the cheek. Noll spins around and plants facefirst into the beanbag pillow he had been lounging on, his butt and fluffy tail sticking up into the air.

>Noll has Fainted!

Panting, you look around as if something else is going to jump you while Gwen is out of the fight. But it's all clear. Across the hallway there is a second room with a pair of rugs lining the floor, and a red wooden trunk. "We won? Master, master we won!" visibly exhausted and barely keeping his eyes open, Arvo sits back against the wall and grins in spite of himself.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (12, 4/10)
You remember that getting out will be as easy as using your Guild badge to teleport out with the target outlaw. At least you won't have to drag Gwen and Noll out through all the Empties.

Lightly tugging on one of Arvo’s whiskers to get his attention, you cup his cheeks and shake him awake. "What do you have, h- here in the base?" You can see a bit of pink poking out of the plump sheathe between his legs, from up close. He doesn't show any shame, giving you a lurid look. Obviously he's still horny and riding hard on the fight.

"There's some stuff in a box back there. Couple Seeds and Berries. Why don't we celebrate first, Master?" Ignoring his horny advances for now, you let go of him and hurry across the secret base to open the box, looking for something to help get Gwen back on her feet. Inside you find three Leppa Berries and a pile of seeds that you don't know. They must be from here in this world.

Bringing them over to Arvo, you hold them up to him. "W-what are these seeds?"

>Arvo Intelligence: Disadvantage, City Mon (5, 5/12)
Arvo scratches his nose and shrugs. Huffing, you go and search the tent as well. Inside you see a bunch of bondage gear. A ball gag, an open gag for forcing blowjobs, a blindfold, and plenty of rope. You take the advanced precaution of using the rope to tie Noll up in case he wakes on his own, and you stuff the rest in Gwen's bag for later. "Okay. G-getting out of here," narrating to yourself, you tug the badge free from the bag and touch it to Noll. Bright light overtakes you like a spotlight down from the sky, and you get flashes of people getting abducted by aliens in old cheesy movies. But instead of a spaceship, you blink and find yourself back at the outside of the outlaw fort’s gate. Spring is sitting closeby with your unconscious, hogtied Furret captive and jumps to her feet when she sees Gwen.

"Murdoch. Gwen!" the monkey girl runs over to check on her.

"Do any of these help, a-at all?" trying to control the hyperventilating that has overtaken your lungs, you take out the seeds and hold them out in shaky claws. Spring takes them from you and holds each one up to look at it closely. They all look the same to you, hard yellow shells with grainy marks on them.

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (20/8)
"These are two Reviver Seeds and an Encourage Seed. Nice find, Murdoch!" The first one hopefully is as good as it sounds. Spring lifts Gwen into a better position and places one of the Reviver Seeds in her mouth, forcing her to chew on it. As the shell of the seed cracks, Gwen sucks in a hard breath and her eyes blink open.

With a tired look, Gwen’s eyes shift between the two faces hovering above her. "Guh?"

"Looks like Murdoch saved the day this time, girl," smirking, Spring scratches her behind the ear. In moments Gwen’s exhaustion is washed away. Your partner looks right as rain, in perfect health, and she shakes her head around like she's been hit with a real sharp flavor.

Arvo sits down on the road and mutters, "I helped." Hearing his voice, something you'd forgotten in the heat of the moment comes to mind and you look around, picking through the bondage gear in a panic.

Grabbing and tossing restraints, gags and toys aside, you shout, "W-w- where's the key?!" There's no sign of a key to your cage in the pile of bondage gear. You don't think you saw one lying around their bachelor pad either.

You feel something warm and soft brushing against your side, and smell the sweet Pecha on Gwen's breath. She nuzzles her face up under your chin. "Thank you partner. Something wrong?"

"Oh. Are you looking for the cage key, Master?" Arvo asks cheerfully. When you look over he has a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Yes. Yeah, w-where is it?" you demand. The rat boy has a vengeful gleam in his eye. And you know the collar means he can't lie as he gives you the worst answer with a sarcastic shrug.

"I lost it a week ago." Just when he was starting to seem cooperative, you receive a rude reminder of his true nature.

That’s bullshit. “W-wait. You said before it was in the base!" You jab a claw at Arvo, who rubs his sore cheek where you slapped the shit out of him before. You run back over it, thinking whether you actually ordered him to be truthful or not. "Tell the truth!"

"Yeah, that's right. I told you it was in the base. Cause it is in the base, Master,” he snarls back. “Or was. Far as I know. I don't know where it is in the base but that's where I saw it last. Might be it's under something, dropped behind something," accompanying another faux-helpless shrug the grin that transforms from his snarl shows just how pleased he is you were in a rush to leave in your worry for Gwen. And now your captive is taking pleasure in watching you squirm under the realization of the accident. Letting out a frustrated breath, you clench your claws and look back at the gate. With nobody inside of it the dungeon will have scrambled again already, it would take a whole other run to go find it.

"D-damnit Arvo," you exchange a pained look back at Gwen, who is also growling at Arvo. He nervously looks away, avoiding her gaze.

"I feel fine now. We go back for it?" Gwen offers. You think about it, but you have other options too. There must be somebody who can pick the lock or cut it off, Enzo maybe.

Taking hold of Gwen's shoulder, you shake your head and pull her away from the rat. Instead you drag the other two together to wake them up, slapping them with the flat of your claws until they start to grumble and open their eyes. Spring and Gwen stand on either side of you, an intimidating duo to behold. The outlaws look up at the three of you with harder expressions than you might expect, though. These two look made of sterner stuff than Arvo. Maybe he’s sterner than you thought too, under that collar. "Alright. You two g-get up. Arvo, come explain w-what happened exactly. And tell them how you feel ab-bout it."

Arvo meets the looks of his former teammates. They don't look happy to see him not tied up. "Well you see boss, this guy put some kind of magic collar on me. Makes me do whatever my sweet Master says." He wriggles his paws at you flirtatiously- mockingly- and tugs a little at the collar, which doesn't budge.

"And what about your little blowjob stunt, huh? You looked pretty happy on your knees," Noll fixes him with a fiery eyed stare. “Don’t worry. You’ll be back there soon.” Arvo gulps. His eyes shift away and he pokes his fingers together.

Voice still strained at a high pitch, he tries to sound serious as that brief flash of sadistic confidence fades, "Oh yeah, totally his idea. Told me to seduce you. But um. I did kind of like it," he says the last part just loud enough to hear, and Noll smirks at him, nose twitching.

"Yeah? You'll get lots of time to think how much you like it when we're sharing a cell, rat,” Noll leans forward, gnawing the air with his own buck tooth. “Maybe since you were under some Salandit spell I'll even let you enjoy it."

Grabbing Noll under the arms, Spring pulls him up to his feet, and she adjusts the Furret's bindings so that he can walk on his own. "Alright. Get walking boys, we're taking you in." Prodding them each in the back and blowing a little plume of fire into the air, Spring starts forcing them down the road ahead of your group. Arvo shuffles along behind you and Gwen. While she walks, Spring glances back at you for a moment. "No sign of Wade's guild while you were down there. They should be coming soon though. Want to flaunt our win, or hit the grass?"

Wanting to avoid tipping off Wade about the dungeon being clear, you guide the girls and your captive outlaws into the tall grass along the road. "Might as w- well w-waste their time."

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (17/8)
It would be easier to get lost this way, unable to see the titular spires of town or the road to be certain you're going the right way. Thankfully you don't have to worry about getting lost with Spring leading the way. Sparing a look back at Arvo and the looks he's getting makes you consider offering him a reprieve from the collar, just to see how he behaves without it. Taking the collar off of one of your captures seems really risky though, especially with his opportune antagonism so you decide to wait for a more controlled environment.

"Psst," laying a hand on your forehead, Spring shushes you and points up. Above you can see a flying duo above the grass, Wade soaring through the air with Giselle coiled around his neck like a scarf.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (9, 11/10)
Straining your eyes, you think you see something else sitting on his back, but you can't tell what. "I-is that a trail of smoke behind them?" you wonder aloud.

Spring shrugs next to you. "Maybe he has a Fire type too," she guesses. After Wade's guild has passed over you, you continue on.

Eventually you need to go back onto the road anyways, crossing the bridge past the now familiar Ledian guard. She looks approvingly at the bound outlaws in your tow. "Come on, boys. It's t-time to check you in." Turning down the road, you take the three outlaws to the jailhouse. The Furret is making shifty eyes and looking for a chance to give you the slip, but Gwen senses his tension. Her ear twitches and she looks back at him with sharp eyes. Roman gulps and stops squirming in his bindings.

Pushing the door open you can see the place much like before, wooden floorboards creaking from the strain they regularly suffer under the Steel jailer's weight. The wooden jar you trapped the Gastly in is gone now, moved somewhere else beyond the holding cells. "Somebody's been busy," sitting on her haunches behind her desk, the Lairon grins through ferocious teeth, sharp as a guillotine. She looks pleased to see you.

Raising her snout, Spring returns the expression. "That's right. There's a new A-Guild in town." Strutting up to the desk, Spring leans on it with her one elbow and snaps her finger at the outlaws. They file up and Cree looks at Arvo, walking up unbound with his collar on, curiously.

"How'd you get that one to cooperate?" she wonders.

Smiling, you reach over and tap a claw upon the collar. "Dance for her, d-dance, Arvo!" you order him. In spite of himself, the rat boy starts hopping from foot to foot in a clumsy jig, balls jiggling up and down in a way that's surely going to make him sore later.

"That's sure... something," Cree scratches her head, a contact that makes a screeching metal on metal sound. You motion for Arvo to stop, and he returns to standing there, sighing. Finally letting the rat free, you pull off the collar and he sinks from the girly posture he'd been holding ever since you first gave him the order.

"You're brutal, Salandit. I give you that." Slinking to the other two, Arvo looks at you with begrudging respect. Though you’re not sure he’s the sort whose respect you want. The three of them are led into a cell by Spring. Pulling open the jail desk, Cree takes out a bag of Poke and sets it on top.

"Full payout of 100 Poke per, 300 total. Good honest money."  Taking the bag of money and tucking it into the bag around Gwen's neck, you smile and give her an opportunistic scratch under the chin while you're there, earning an appreciative rumble.

"How about we go and, and check the job board while Spring c-checks them in?" you suggest. Gwen grunts and walks with you to the cork board up against the wall. You take down the wanted poster for the outlaw gang you just brought in. Hustle's wanted poster is still there.

Another posting has been put up on the board since you were here last. A posting has been put up that the Tallspire Guild is accepting applicants, with an artistic rendition of a round table. In addition to Wade and Giselle you see a small pink shape that must be a Munna at the table.

Shaking your head and concealing a frown, you take a breath, then step away from the board and meet Spring on the way to the door. "Nothing new. Let's go, g-get our oven ordered." As you leave, the girls take places on either side of you. It still feels surreal walking through the street with not one, but two girls. And you feel more confident in your walk now, keeping conscious attention of where your tail is. No more bumping into passerby or waddling awkwardly. Your musing is interrupted by a playful jab at your side, hitting a ticklish rib and making you jump.

"Somebody's glowing. Thinking about something good?" Spring's in just as good a mood after bringing in your big catch. Her playful tone feels good to hear. It’s just nice.

"Yeah. It's nice,” you voice the feeling. “To be someone g-good at things? And I'll finally be able to cook again soon." It ignites purpose in your chest, bubbling up like boiling water.

"Excited to taste. What you make first?" walking just ahead of you, Gwen licks the sides of her mouth eagerly.

"Oh, I'm not sure... let me just, think about it." Placing a claw on Gwen's back and letting her lead you, you close your eyes and think of Victor. A presence starts to form in your mind.

~Murdoch? It gladdens me to hear from you again. Do you need anything?~ the bookish bat's voice as you remember it rings inside your head.

~It's been a mixed bag. We met another Guild leader and he's a real chode. But on the plus side we poached a bounty from him.~ With the connection formed and steady, you open your eyes, finding yourself in front of Enzo's metalworks. Gwen accompanies you inside this time even though it's hot as hell in there.

Victor's voice in your head ambles about his own updates. ~That's great to hear, Murdoch. I actually used your strategy the other day. I invited Boris to come to a book club meeting. But, I'm not sure what to do now?? There's not actually a book club. What if he gets weirded out?~

Inside the smithy you find Enzo taking a break and drinking from a glass bottle of water. It must not be very cool, but maybe he doesn't mind. Even though you're a Fire type too, the idea of drinking warm water makes the human inside you curl the edges of your mouth in reflexive distaste. "Oh, you're back!” he notices you, face lighting up with a bright smile. “Delivery all handled?"

"Mm-yes. Actually, we have the money too! For the oven, too. C-can we order that now?" you take out the bag of Poke you just got from Cree, just enough to pay for the oven. Enzo gets up and comes over to you, his huge size compared to you making him lean down to take it. Giving it a little jingle, he doesn't seem paranoid about counting it.

"Great! I've got your cooking utensils all ready to go as well." Waving you inside with an inviting claw, he leads you to a table where pots, pans and utensils are all arrayed and ready to go, just as he said. "Do you want me to have them delivered along with the oven when my assistants get back? Oh!" Enzo puts a claw to his head and laughs, "I forgot, did I ever get a delivery address from you?"

You rub the back of your neck and laugh a little too, awkwardly. Your base isn't quite a base yet. Something else to work on. "Send them to Stepstone Village. W-we'll take care of the rest, no w-worries." You can always get Victor to move them. With help. His new Archen friend maybe, if things go well. Enzo jots it down.

Heat rising to your face, you twiddle your thumbs together. The subject is still embarrassing even if you have to bring it up. "Enzo, you uh, you know those outlaws? O-outside the city?"

With a smile, the zard takes a look at the bounty office issued bag of Poke and picks up on where you're going with it. "That's where you got the money? Everybody will sleep easier with them behind bars. But," you go along with his guesswork with a nod that lets him know he's got it. The fact you keep looking off into the corner is giving him other messages though. His smile turns to confusion and he scratches his chin. "There's something else? What about them?"

"W-well, during the fighting one of them, uh, h-he slipped a cage on me. The k-key got lost in their base somewhere, we- I never found it. And um," you lift up your kilt, displaying your slit. It's stuck partways open by the cage that's not designed for reptilian parts, the metal poking out. Heat comes off of Enzo as he suddenly shares your embarrassment, and Spring laughs beside you.

The fire monkey smacks you on the back, "So is that why you were trolling that poor rat so hard? I thought you were just getting a dominant streak."

Enzo leads you over to a warm metal stool and lifts you onto it. His face looks sympathetic. Sitting down in front of you, he tentatively reaches forward to feel at the edges of your slit. It feels a little more sore and tender than you expected, and you flinch. "This wasn't made for guys like us at all. It's stuck in there pretty good." Hearing that something's wrong with it, Gwen makes a concerned whine and Spring wipes off her cocky grin.

"Is it going to be hard to get off? ...Sorry, that one wasn't intentional," resting her paws on her hips, she tries to get a closer look, but Enzo motions her away while he analyzes the construction. A forked tongue sticks out between his teeth, in thought. Some understanding must have clicked, because Enzo starts walking to the back of the store, and taking out some tools.

"Just try and sit still and trust me, okay?" while he takes out tools that look uncomfortably sharp and metallic, you gulp nervously. “Don’t worry. I know where humans come from, things can be a lot more dangerous, but you’ll be okay,” he smiles reassuringly, and you try to focus on catching up with Victor.

~Victory, um. W-when did I tell you to invite him to a fake b-book club?~
n ervousness is fluttering around in your head like little butterflies making you dizzy, and your stutter once more bleeds through into the telepathy.

~Oh. You see, that's -- you did it when we first hit it off. So I thought -- it would be easy to do the same, but -- I'm getting cold feet and I don't -- what he would think,~ Victor's own nervousness making waves with yours' is swirling into interference and making the connection a little stuttery.

Schemes brew, swirling around your head like little stammering birds in the chaos of your shared heartbeat. ~D-do you want me to c-call Larissa? We could make the fake b-book club a real b-book club for one night?~

~No, no. I still -- something to happen. I just -- no idea how. How do you flirt -- someone? ... -- are you okay? You feel nervous.~ He’s one to talk.

Your mind snaps back into the moment when you hear metal against metal. Enzo takes out a device that looks like it's supposed to spread something open, and you look down at your slit. That probably won't feel great. Holding onto the stool with your claws, you can almost feel the human inside you sweating bullets. Clenching your teeth together and sucking in slow breaths through your nose, you think back at Victor, ~J-just. Some outlaws we caught, they p-put a chastity cage on me, and I have to get it removed. It's a little s-scary, some of those tools look like new- n- bad news.~

>Victor Will: Advantage (15, 10/10)
Even though deep breathing doesn't help you a lot, you feel things start to calm on Victor's end. A phantom sensation around your fingers starts to form, that feels like someone holding your hand. And you feel the soft sensation of a paw resting on top of your other claw, looking down to see Gwen has set her paw on top of it. Next to her, Spring is standing with her arms folded and nods confidently, as if to pass some of her composure to you. ~No need to worry, my friend. No one can stay seriously injured for long, so nothing there is really going to hurt you. Another of the safeguards of our world. Allow me to be there with you.~

>Murdoch gained the Supported Skill
>Murdoch gained the Dependent Incompetency
>Murdoch Will: Supported (16/8)
With everyone here beside you, even if some just in spirit, you feel more confident. Taking a deep breath in, you let it out slowly and relax the tension from your body. Enzo comes back to sit in front of you with the tools laid out in front of him. "I'll need an extra set of hands. Can you?" he looks at Spring.

She comes over and stands beside him, still much smaller even with him sitting down. "Sure. You've done this before?"

"When you're the main metalworker in town, people come to you for all kinds of help,” he rubs the back of his head, and his wings flex. ”It's common for these things to get stuck when someone uses one for the wrong species."

>Enzo Intelligence: Advantage (20, 6/10)
You're able to keep yourself still by force of will as Enzo carefully slides the prying device between the cage and the walls of your slit. The feeling is painful, unpleasant...

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (12, 20/10)
And thankfully you manage not to get a stiffy or any weird kinks out of this sensation.

"Now, I need you to pull it out and hold it still," Enzo gives Spring instructions and she takes hold of your caged cock, gently pulling it out of the slit so that the full cage is exposed. Taking a pair of small bolt cutters that he lines up to the cage's lock.

>Enzo Intelligence: Advantage, Metalworking (4, 13/8)
>Spring Fitness: Advantage (14, 12/10)
There is a tense moment while Enzo applies pressure to the cage's bolt. Spring keeps your bound tool held firm and there is a snapping sound of breaking metal. Letting out a breath, Enzo nods to Spring and she carefully slides the chastity cage off of you.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (19, 7/10)
The feeling of the warm air around your exposed cock feels like heaven after being shut tight in the warm metal. So when Enzo removes the clamp holding your slit open, your dick remains out, growing firm and twitching in Spring's hand. Flustered, you quickly flip your kilt down and stammer out an apology. "Sorry, s-sorry! Thank you!" you hop down from the stool and start to make for the door, but Spring holds onto your shoulder.

"Hey, easy. It's not like we haven't crossed that bridge with Enzo here before," she winks at him playfully and he drags a claw up and down his left horn with a goofy smile.

He reassures you, "Don't worry, I'm not offended. So, where were we then? Do you want me to have the utensils delivered with the oven?" Enzo clears his throat and changes the subject back to business. He gets up and starts washing his tools using one of his water barrels.

You can hear Victor's reassuring presence in your mind, as well. ~See? It all worked out.~ 

"That sounds good,” you let out a sigh through your nose and nod. “Yeah, t-that sounds great." Still getting a grip, you decide to try some of the new utensils out. You grip the handle of one which has been made out of wood, maybe someone who does carving makes handles for him. A ladle for serving soup. A human sized tool would feel strange in your little claws, but Enzo made this one just the right size. You try spinning it around in your hands, the length and grip feeling good. "These are nice. It feels almost like b-back in the human world." The word home doesn't reach your tongue.

"Glad you like them! Let me know when you start using them, I'll make the trip to try your cooking myself," Enzo finishes washing his tools and puts them aside to dry, which probably won't be long in here. He flexes his wings, stretching them out and displaying them proudly. “Just a quick skip, hop and jump away.”

"Now what we do?" as you hold the warm metal in your claws, Gwen interrupts your moment of nostalgia to question, padding up to the door and pushing it open. She closes her eyes as the cool breeze from outside rushes in and ruffles her fur. The heat is starting to get to her in here. Cool fresh air flows over you, making you shudder at the sensation. Your back curls a little, dropping onto all fours behind Gwen.

Mentally going over your agenda, there are a few important things you still have to do. You follow her outside, looking around at the stone-laid streets and passing Pokemon like a tourist. Even though she doesn't know where you're going yet, Gwen has already instinctively taken the lead walking along the outer edge of Tallspire. Thinking over Gwen's question takes time before you answer. "I think we should go l-look for Hustle. That's the b-best way to investigate you-know-who. A- and I mean, maybe we can find some old- uh, retired Guilds who can tell us more."

Adjusting her stride, Gwen immediately starts going in what you assume is the direction of the desert Hustle ran off to. Spring comes up from behind and walks beside you, for once behind Gwen, and scratches you on the neck behind your bandana-like fins. "Good idea. Anybody who knows something wouldn't want to stick around here, that's for sure."

"Mmh. Agree." The girls lead you along the way to a well to get some water for the trip through the desert. It's mostly for Gwen, you think.

At the same time, you refocus on your telepathic connection. ~Sorry Victor, I don't really know what to do. T-to be honest it was really spur of the moment when I did it. Just uh, g- just go with it. Okay?~ A little bubbling nervousness is still tickling at your stomach through the connection.

~Well, if you say so. I will keep you updated. I get the feeling you have something else to take care of?~ his presence begins to drift away, like someone standing at the door.

~Yeah, I kind of want to know more about Guild Bases, what they need to have.~ With your waters filled up, you and the girls keep going. You've already lost track of where in the city you are.

~That one is very contextual. It depends what you want to do with it. Do you have a plan?~

You have some. Sparks of ideas that crawl onto your telepathic tongue. ~I- there's a little bit of an idea, actually. I was thinking, we could make a resort getaway. With hot springs and good food and maybe a spa or s-something like that.~ A pause follows while Victor thinks on the other end. He draws nearer again, and you can almost feel his thoughts brushing up against you.

~Then we will want a builder who can design not only a sturdy base, but an aesthetic one. If I'm remembering, Larissa's Guild wished to pursue work as artists and craftsmen. Maybe we could hire them to help us,~ Victor suggests. It's an idea you considered yourself, or at least you thought about asking her for ideas on the whole thing. Part of you worries it's going to eat away a little of your fame if another Guild makes your fancy resort, but Larissa didn't really want to win either. ~Do you want me to contact Larissa and begin discussing arrangements?~ Victor offers, while you exit Tallspire on a cobblestone road out of the city. The sky has become cloudy and dark, and it looks like rain is coming. Which could help Gwen keep cool when you get to the desert.

"I'm realizing we never really got to know each other much,” Spring muses on the road. "Why don't we play a question for a question. And if someone's too shy to answer, they owe a special favor later instead~" She smiles naughtily down at you. "Why don't you go first?" 

“Just a sec,” you murmur to her, passing along your okay to Victor. ~Yeah we could probably stand to hit up Larissa, sure.~

~Then I will set a time to meet with our new friends from Windmill Village. Be safe, Murdoch.~ Fading gently from your mind, Victor's presence disappears, leaving you again alone with your thoughts.

Now, what question to ask. You remember talking about how Spring and Gwen got started before, but not in much detail. Only that Spring knew Gwen since she could barely talk. "Ahaha, n-not a very spicy way to start,” tapping your claws together, you start to answer. “But um, how did you get started bounty hunting again?"

Brushing back her cowlick with the palm of her hand, Spring purses her lips. "I told you before I always wanted to explore dungeons. But that's just a surface answer. Truthfully, my parents were both part of a Guild, and I was in a rebellious phase back then. So I wanted to prove I could do what they do without a Guild." Travel remains steady with the tall grass swaying on either side. It doesn't look anything like a desert yet so there's still a lot of walking to go. You stick to all fours since it's less tiring. Spring flicks her tongue against the back of her teeth. "That makes it my turn now. Let's see. You don't seem like a very angry guy. What was your angriest moment?" 

Remembering back in the old days, the most angry you've been was the first time a friend betrayed you. "There was this time in school, I- I thought somebody was my friend. But they were just using me- to make a joke out of me, and g-get popular." Turning your eyes down from watching Gwen's swaying tail, you let out a long breath. "Every time since then I've just g-gotten used to it. Too sad to- to be angry."

"Aw, that was more of a downer than I was expecting. I should've known better," putting a paw on her hip, Spring quickly tries to move on from the subject. "How about you ask me one and we can keep going?"

>Tie Breaker: Worst Type
Unsure of what to ask right now, you think it over. "What's your worst type?" she scratches her head and looks off into the bushes. "Worst type? You mean battle types? That'd be Psychic. Hate when they use their powers to mess with your head. And I guess romantic type would be somebody with a stick up their ass. Like that Wade guy." Looking forward, Spring sees Gwen peeking back behind her. "You want to join in, girl? Why don't you ask Murdoch the next question?"

Falling back in her steps to move to your other side, Gwen thinks. "Thing to try in bed. What you want to try?"

With a chuckle, Springm shakes her head. "Dang, right to the juicy stuff, girl."

Laughing nervously when thinking about what happened earlier today, you have to admit, "I wouldn't mind trying that c-cage stuff, it seemed interesting. B-but one that actually fits. Obviously. And uh, maybe some role play, like p-pretending to be a scary villain who captured me..."

There is a difficult to read expression on Gwen's face, then she smiles, "Good. If you go off from licking, nothing left for me." With her approval, you swallow in anticipation. This trip is going to take a while, so you'll probably have to camp out here somewhere. Gwen looks at you expectantly, and you realize she owes you a question in return. 

>Deciding roll: Favorite thing to wake up to
"Gwen, what's your favorite thing to wake up to, in the m-morning?"

Turning her head towards the horizon, Gwen smiles reminiscently. "Up early. Morning run up to cliffs. Watch sun rise."

"Wow, Gwen. That was almost poetic," across you from Gwen, Spring teases her with a smirk.

Gwen huffs and shoots back. "My turn. You, same question. Something want to try." It's starting to get dark out, so Spring taps you on the back and starts leading you into the bushes to find somewhere to sleep. Your legs are getting sore and tired, too.

She might also be using it to stall. "That's a toughie. I always wondered how it feels to lay an egg, but I definitely don't want kids. What do they call that?"

Flicking your eyes up, you answer. "O-oviposition." You receive a side glance from Spring. Of course you would know that, is what she’s probably thinking.

"Yeah? Well, that's my answer. Here's one for you, Gwen,” kicking off the ground, Spring launches forwards, causing Gwen to rear back in mild surprise. The simian leans forward and her mouth splits into a grin. “What's eighteen times eighty four?"

Stopping behind you, Gwen pauses and looks at the ground with a frustrated look on her face. She growls a little at Spring, "Cheater."

Spring just shrugs smugly. "It's a question. Did I get you?"

>Gwen Intelligence: (6/10)
Gwen's ears pull back a little and she thinks, but her eyes narrow and she shakes her head. Excitedly, Spring claps her hands together. "Then I win! Guess that means I'm in charge next time, Gwennie." Their power struggle settled for now, the girls start flattening out the tall grass into a kind of straw bed, and Gwen walks around to settle in a spot.

Something else is on your mind, so you decide to speak up. "Hey, uh- unrelated to the game. But how do you two feel about using the c-collar to force outlaws to do stuff? Like, k-kinky stuff?"

Gwen lets out a small grumble. "Feel wrong."

While Spring's answer is less negative. "Hey, as long as it doesn't go too far, there's no harm in teaching them a lesson, right?" The campsite is lit by Spring's tail, casting shadows around her butt as she lays on her stomach in the middle of the flattened grass mat. The flame is mesmerizing as it licks at the air.

Licking your snout, you tentatively ask Gwen, "What do you feel ab-bout how I handled the Rattata?"

Gwen sniffs at the air, and her nose twitches as she inhales a bit of grass. You can see her struggle not to sneeze, before snorting it out and regaining her dignity. "Did not force him, anything bad. Just embarrass. Is fine. But King have power like this too, you say. Easy to abuse."

You roll over on your back to try and look up at the stars, but realize your lizardy body doesn't work that way. There’s a great view of the campsite around you, but looking up at the stares requires you to lie on your side. The night air is cool, but you and Spring both radiate a natural warmth that spreads throughout the camp.

Lying her head on her front paws, Gwen's breathing slows. "Night." Left on your own with the girls settling in to sleep, you wonder about reaching out to Victor again and talking. What to talk to him about, though?

Reaching over, you rub Spring's shoulder to see if she is still awake. A muffled sound, and she cracks one eye open. "Mm?"

"H-have you talked to Victor yet? He wanted some d-dating advice, and I thought you would be better than me." Looking at you through sleepy eyes, Spring blinks a few times.

"Who again?" she asks blearily, rubbing her eyes with the back of a paw.

"Oh!” you never actually introduced them yet, you recall. “V-Victor is our Guild communication guy. He's a telepathic Noib-bat."

"Do I need to get up?" When you shake your head, Spring shrugs and waves a couple of fingers, which you assume means to try it. You're not sure how well you can act as an antenna for her to talk to him, but you shuffle over on the straw bed to sidle up next to her and rest a claw on her back.

Closing your eyes, you picture Victor in your mind. It isn't long before you feel a rush of nervous horny energy bleeding through the link. ~Aaaa, Murdoch, it's almost time!~ There’s motion on his end, rapid enough to send little swirls of dizziness across to you. He’s moving back and forth, rubbing his wings together.

~Relax, r-relax Victor! I'm going to try to help you connect with Spring. She- I think she'll be more help than me,~ Forming a mental image of Spring where she is beside you, you do your best to project it to Victor. ~Can you reach her?~ you ask, and he reins in his nervousness.

>Victor Will: Advantage (6, 13/10)
A third presence starts to seep into the cognitive space. Spring feels tired at first, but being exposed to Victor is like a jolt of coffee to her and she shifts beside you. "Alright, I'm awake now. How do I talk to him?"

"J-just think it,” you whisper back, not wanting to disturb Gwen.

~Okay? Like this?~ the mental equivalent of a contagious yawn hits you, and you shudder from the sensation as a real yawn follows. Combined with Victor's arousal, the sensation causes your dick to poke out of its slit a little.

~Just like that, yeah, uh- Victor, meet Spring. Spring, meet Victor. She's an old friend of Gwen's.~ More complicated than that, but that’s the gist of it. Victor can probably feel there’s more subtext underneath the surface.

~Pleased to meet you, miss,~ he responds, properly. ~I'm told you give good dating advice?~

One of Spring's legs wraps around your waist and pulls you in, pressing you chest to chest with her as she hugs you like a body pillow. You flutter your eyes open and are met with a tired, but seductive pair of bedroom eyes. "Your buddy is getting me worked up. Mind if I use you to work it out?" While she talks to you, there are a few echoes in the telepathic connection that you're sure Victor must be overhearing. But she keeps talking to him, too. ~I wouldn't call it good, but let's see what we can do. What's the sitch?~

~As it is now,~ nervous, he comes across like he’s delivering a report from a research project in front of a classroom of people, with stage fright. ~I've invited someone I'm rather enamored with to a book club. Except I was trying to ask them over to ah, fool around. It's what Murdoch did when we first spent time together.~

Bringing a hand up to her face, Spring makes a few small laughing noises. ~You two are something alright. Do you like this guy or do you just want a quick fuck?~

~I, I think I like him. I would like to know him better at least.~ There is a sudden spike of panic from Victor's side. ~He's here!~

~Then drop the pretense of other people and tell him you meant it like a proper date. Read something horny together, I don't know,~ Spring's hand runs up and down your back, while she waits for your answer. Your dick is certainly fully out now, and pressed up against her warm belly. Cock twitching against the soft skin of Spring's belly, you can only manage a mewling moan and a nod of acceptance. Wrapping an arm around you, Spring takes a hold of your haunches and gently begins rocking you into a rhythm.

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage (2, 12/10)
It's not hard to feel how worked up your antics are getting Victor. The telepathic connection feels anything but fuzzy, though. As his arousal synchronizes to your own, each of you feels it even more clearly. ~Oh my goodness, you two. I can't get up without him seeing this... this...~

~Stiffy? Why not just tell him how much the mere sight of him gets you rock hard,~ Spring smirks and teases him, which you know will only make it harder for him to keep it under control.

>Murdoch Lewd: (15, 1/10)
Not that it's any easier for you. Feeling a sudden peak, you gasp and splatter a few ropes of cum across Spring's stomach. She looks down at her belly and then fixes you with a pout of faux disappointment. "Aw, you finished already? I guess it's the tongue tonight." She leans forward and whispers in your ear just before she starts lowering you towards her crotch. “It's a good thing your tongue is so hot, Murry."

>Victor Lewd: (1, 10/10)
As you unexpectedly orgasm prematurely, you wonder about Victor. You don't have to wonder long as the choked, unsatisfying feeling of a ruined orgasm echoes to you. ~OoOooh no!~ Victor's thoughts are a mess of shame and panic. And for a moment you're hit with some guilt from Spring, who clearly wasn't expecting him to go off quite as quickly as you.

But then you can hear what you think are Boris's words played over in Victor's mind while he tries to grasp them. ~Never had someone... cum just from shaking my wing? Kind of cute?~

"I think I went a little too far with this, but it sounds like things worked out on his end~!" Spring chimes cheerfully, your face now level with her moist opening, the monkey slit dripping with wetness and radiating heat like Enzo's smithy. Letting go with the hand on top of your head, Spring wraps one of her dextrous hind paws around the back of your head and reaches down with the other to rub and grope your torso lewdly.

Her paw shoves you forward and presses the tip of your snout into her. Flicking out your tongue, you press at her depths, while gently rubbing the tip of your snout against her pleasure button.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage (13, 18)
>Spring Lewd: (10)
After a long day of adventure and competition against Wade, with no small help from all the horny bleeding through psychically, Spring turns out to be really pent up. It doesn't take long for you to feel her get close. With one last shove of her paw, she presses almost your entire snout up her pussy like a dildo and you have to close your eyes as a rush of lady cum floods down over your face. Letting out a sigh of relief, Spring releases you, pulling you back out. "You good down there?"

After his orgasm, things have calmed on Victor's end. With no more uncontrolled outbursts of panic, you think things might be going better now. If he didn't have the courage to reveal his real feelings before, he doesn't have much choice now. With a small noise to affirm to Spring that you're fine, she pulls you back up and rolls over, bringing you over with her. Landing on the other side, you find yourself pressed between Spring and Gwen's warm, furry sleeping form. "Wouldn't want her to get jealous when she wakes up," Spring flicks your nose teasingly and closes her eyes to go to sleep. You can feel her break off from the connection to Victor, but you keep it open as you doze off.

In your dozing mind, drifting off to sleep, you feel Victor's nervousness gradually abate. Lurid thoughts you can't be sure are wholly him or you drift behind your eyelids. Sensations of touch, brushes of conversation.

And then, your tired body finally rests until a new day.

Chapter Text

A light falling against the lid of your eye pulls you from the grip of sleep. Beneath you, a bed of flattened grass cushions the cold ground. A pair of arms are wrapped around you from behind, pressing you back against a warm body. Spring’s legs are also wrapped around your tail, her crotch pressed against the hot veins of fire that run over your lower back, made damp from the persistent warmth. One fuzzy paw has found its way onto your shoulder and you’ve grabbed onto its owner in your sleep, pulling her closer. Both of your teammates have their heads resting on your own, from either side. Gwen’s chin rests on your forehead, your snout buried in the fur in the crook of her neck.

It might be the most comfortable you’ve ever been, but the world turns whether you want it to or not. The first rays of the morning sun scatter in crisscrossed patterns through the lattice of the surrounding, tall grass. A woven basket of shadows in which your eye has found one of the holes, and been met with rude interruption by the warm light.

Waking memory finds you and begins to return. You remember where you are. Your guild, the Hoopa Guild, is traveling from the city of Tallspire into the desert. A potionmaker named Hustle fled the influence of the King, a previous winner of the guild game who holds the entire city in his sway with power granted by Victini. In order to get to the bottom of this you must reach Hustle before another guild can find him, and claim the fame of turning him over to the King.

Running a hand up Gwen’s side, you scratch under her chin and lick the furry nook of her neck. A rumble that flickers between growl and purr rises in her throat. “What? Why you wake me up?” she mumbles into the black scales of your forehead. Bringing up the paw rested on your shoulder, she baps you with it. The light is shut out by black, the soft pink paw pad closing out the morning.

“It’s m-morning, Gwen. W-we have to get going.” It’s a bitter pill when she would rather stay here curled up with her two Fire types, until the day becomes too hot. But Gwen’s sense of duty wins out. She breathes out warm air through her nose, blowing over your scalp and into Spring’s face, making the fire monkey twitch and grumble. Her feet run up and down your tail.

Reluctantly untangling the warm pretzel of bodies takes the better part of five minutes. When you turn over, a firm rod between your legs brushes against Gwen’s fur and causes you to shudder and kick a leg out. Settled so close together, the smell and thought of Spring’s arousal from pressing against your back have gotten your overeager little buddy excited.

“Already?” Spring playfully teases while bringing out a bundle from her bag. A loaf of bread wrapped in cloth, speckled with spots of blue berries. Breaking off a piece, she tosses it into your waiting hands. “This should help.”

The bread is still soft, and a mild tangy taste hits your tongue. The berry pieces are crunch, more like nuts than fruit. It’s an unusual blend of flavor and texture.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (14, 7/8)

A blend of nuttiness and tanginess make you think of Yache.

Breaking off a piece for herself, Spring holds out the loaf for Gwen, who tears off a chunk with her teeth. Something in the berries is helping to cool your libido, and gradually your twitching erection retreats inside of your slit.

After sharing breakfast, your guild gets back on the road. The landscape becomes more arid with only a small border of overlap, green fields turning into dry savannah. These different biomes all come together in a way that would not come naturally, as if they were painted onto the landscape. Ahead you can make out a crossroads. A signpost posted on the corner where two roads meet lists the destinations.

The road forward leads to the Parched Desert. To your left it curves back towards your first home here in this world, the Groudon’s Steps region. The sky to your right glows a bright orange, and you can smell smoke on the wind. The sign calls that place the Burning Savannah, with a yellow warning symbol next to its name. Maybe that means it’s a dungeon.

“Do you think he would be desperate enough to hide in the Burning Savannah?” Spring wonders, scratching Gwen behind the ear.

>Gwen Intelligence: (12/12)

Padding to the savannah road, Gwen bends down and sniffs the ground. She curls her nose at the smell of smoke, and comes back to your side to report, “No. Smell no one go this way.”

Chapter Text

Heat blows in from the desert and the Burning Savannah, making Gwen pant already. For you though the feeling is pleasant and makes you want to curl up on a warm rock. You stand up on your hind legs with your tail behind you and fold your hands together against your chest, fingers fidgeting. “A-are we ready? D-do we have water, sup- s-supplies?”

Spring puts her arm around you and rubs your shoulder with a finger and a thumb. “You worry too much. I made sure to bring water and food while Gwen and I were on the town. Besides, Sweetwater Outpost isn’t too far in.”

“S-sweetwater Outpost?”

“That’s right. It’s a small outpost built around an oasis just before the deep desert. Guilds use it as their stopping point before going out to the Dungeons out there.” She takes out a wooden bottle and unstoppers it, holding it out for Gwen. Gwen rests it against her tongue and gratefully gulps down a stream of water from inside.

Licking her mouth, Gwen smacks her chops. “Hear outpost hard start.”

“Guilds that start there have it rough,” Spring confirms. “Nobody really wants to go there and all the nearby Dungeons are infamously tough on top of everything else.”

It sounds like you’ll meet more of your competition in the outpost. While wondering what kind of person they might be, you start transferring your items from your bag into Spring’s to empty it out. Then you put the cloth on Gwen’s head like a hood. It pushes down her ears and she twitches them, shifting the fabric a little.

“There, t-to keep the sun off of your head. Uh, d-do Rawst berries help with heatstroke?”

“Those mostly just help with sunburn. None of us should have to worry about that. Gwen has fur and we’re Fire Types. They normally sell Occa berries in the outpost that protect against the desert heat.” Spring takes your hand and starts pulling you ahead. “Come on! Stop dragging your tail, lizard boy.”

Trotting to your other side, Gwen licks from the collarbone up to your chin. Freshly watered, her tongue is wet and leaves a cool trail of moisture up your neck. “Thank you for worry. Be okay.”

All around you on the desert road are baked dirt and dry brush with the occasional cactus, and bright blue sky. Closing your eyes you let Spring guide you by the hand and enjoy the beating of the sun on your dark scaled face. The light sticks to your dark colors and envelopes you like a warm blanket, but you don’t just feel sleepy. You feel at once energized and relaxed.

>Murdoch Fit: Luck Advantage, Clumsy, Easily Lost (15, 18/14)

“Hey, look out.” You hear Spring’s voice just before your foot catches something in the road. Luckily you catch yourself with your forepaw before you faceplant into the road. Your simian companion puts a hand on her hip and juts it out while clicking her tongue. “Stop daydreaming, we’re supposed to be looking for someone.”

“R-right. Sorry,” you get up and brush off some dust and sand from your belly, looking around. Drifts of sand streak all over the ground and poke onto the road like snow drifts. One of them is what caught your foot and made you fall over. You can see down the road a small tower made of clay or sandstone over the horizon. The road leads straight to it. That must be where you’re going.

You help Gwen drink another gulp of water while getting closer. Sweetwater Outpost really isn’t much more than an outpost. A Rockruff is sitting on his haunches by the road wearing a white cloth hood and cloak that runs down his back, much nicer than the makeshift one you made for Gwen.

“Hey Rene,” Spring says with a little wave while you walk by. Rene huffs and nods his head. You think you catch him making eyebrows at Gwen, but she rolls her eyes and walks past him.

There’s very few buildings, you think you count four or five including the tower. Sandy colored steps lead up around the small tower to the peak. A wood roof sits over a watch post with a telescope where you can see the metal dome of a Magnemite poking out over the rim of the tower.

The biggest building is a long, wide single floored clay structure. It’s got a sign carved into the clay right over the door calling it the Stargazer Inn. There’s a crescent moon and gleaming four pointed stars surrounding the name, painted with glittery white paint. There’s some saloon doors and round glass windows, and you can hear the sound of music from inside. It’s a deep, gentle strumming from a sitar.

Three smaller clay domes are spread out around the outpost without any markings or signs on them. Just round semicircular holes without door leading inside.

You can also see the oasis the place was named after. It’s a wide, wet area that has made grasses and bushes spring up around it. On either side of the oasis are fenced berry orchards where two Pokemon are tending and picking lots of colorful berries. On one side is a Snivy and on the other is a Skorupi. The Snivy’s side looks a lot brighter and more lush.

Hands on her waist, Spring scans the outpost. “He’s not hanging around out in the open, so he’s not an idiot. Where do you want to start? Should we split up?”

>>Pick places to go for each team member

>Talk to the Rockruff, Rene

>Talk to the Magnemite in the tower

>Go to the Inn

>Talk to the Snivy

>Talk to the Skorupi

>Check the three smaller buildings

Chapter Text

Update 3

>Murdoch: Inn

>Gwen: Magnemite

>Spring: Rockruff

Time is a factor here to keep up the trail. You raise up on your haunches and do your best to look like a leader with your paws on your sides. “Is that Rockruff a g-guard? One of us should go and see if- if he saw anything.” You look at the girls and Spring gives Gwen a playful smirk and a bump with her hip.

“How about it? You want to go see Rene?” she teases and Gwen puts a paw on her face. Dragging it down over one ear, she flattens it forward and then it flops back up and joins the other pressed back against her head.

Gwen’s paw drags over her eye while she sighs. “Not want to. Spring do it.” When Spring bumps her in the side with a hip again, she puts a paw against Spring’s side and pushes her over sideways. It doesn’t amount to much when the fighting type catches herself with one hand and springs back up like her namesake.

“Okaay, I’ll go talk to Rene.” Leaning down, the mischievous monkey speaks condescendingly as she rubs the back of Gwen’s neck. She gets close to Gwen’s ear and breathes out in a hot breathed whisper, “If you’re too much of a little biiitch.” This time Gwen kicks her in the shin with a hindpaw and Spring falls down onto her, the two of them tumbling to the ground in a tangle of fur and limbs.

Gwen’s growls don’t sound truly angry as the two of them play fight with each other. So you turn away and look for something else to check on. You’re not sure at first if you would rather check the tower or the inn. Gwen might not be able to use the telescope but hopefully the Magnemite can help her. And it would take less talking which is not her best thing.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Combat (8, 8)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage (18, 20)

“Girls?” When you look back, Spring is sitting on Gwen’s back with the canine’s forepaws pinned under her and her snout down pouting on the ground. Spring is comforting the loser with scratches between the ears. “M-maybe Gwen can go up on the tower, and ask if they, if they saw the Zigzagoon? How does that sound? We can m-meet up at the inn.”

“Sounds like we have a job to do. Stop playing around in the sand.” Spring slaps Gwen’s flank and gets off of her, letting Gwen brush some sand out of her underbelly fur.

“I win next time,” Gwen turns around and struts away.

Spring bleps her tongue out at Gwen’s back. “We’ll make it interesting next time if you’re so sure.” Both of the girls split up from you and leave you to explore the inn by yourself.

Crawling to the saloon door on all fours you look at them nervously. A lot of westerns come to mind and you hope you’re not about to walk into a high noon showdown. You use your forehead to push through and move into the shade inside. Light from the doorway and windows illuminates the inside, and you can see hanging dust in the air in the light rays. Music is being played by a Sneasel carefully strumming the strings of a sitar without cutting them on his claws. He’s sitting cross legged on one side of a stage separated from the rest of the floor by a stacked line of brown rocks. A Scrafty is at the front of the stage with her hood up, her hips swaying and showing off an athletic belly.

There is a clay bar table with a smooth top, a Nidoking with a broad belly standing behind it. The settlement’s request board is posted on one side of the bar where an Eevee and a Larvitar are drinking berry juice from wooden cups shaped in a novel way like half of a coconut. The Eevee has his head down on the counter and his ears flopped on it beside him, but they twitch and he looks up when you come inside.

Then, a smell hits you. It crawls into your nostrils and wraps itself around your brain, pulling your attention away to a table beside one of the windows. A Salandit female is curled up on the stone surface of the table, basking peacefully in the sun that filters in with her eyes closed. Dust in the air settles onto the patterns on her back and burns up in little spots of purple fire that let sweet, sweet smelling smoke drift up.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Yache Bread (17, 11/8)

Your member pokes out of your slit and a spot of wetness dribbles down from the tip onto the inside of your kilt. Thankfully you are on all fours and your rising erection isn’t immediately showing.

“Hey, are you new here?” a voice breaks you out of your stupor and you whip your head around to see the Eevee from the bar sitting in front of you. He’s wearing two yellow cloths, one wrapped around his neck and the other around his waist. On the cloth collar is something you spot right away to be a guild card, and on his waist he’s carrying a bag.

“Y- yeah um, n-new here for sure. Uh,” you stumble your words. The other Salandit’s pheromones are filling your head with dirty thoughts even though the Yache berries from the bread Spring gave you are keeping you from getting fully erect. You have enough mind not to blurt out about the Zigzagoon to your competition here.

“Are you okay?” the Eevee asks, flicking an ear down and to the side.

Hoping for the best you just blurt out the first other thing that comes to mind. “I’m good. R-real good. Hey, do you know what those three little b-buildings around are?”

“Oh yeah. Those lead underground, there’s a bunch of tunnels where most of the villagers and services live. My guild base is there too actually.” Putting a paw on his chest where the guild card touches his neck fluff, the Eevee juts it out for you to see. It shows Jirachi’s Guild on it with his name, Rusty, under a simplified icon of Jirachi’s hat.

“C-cool.” The smell is overwhelming you the longer you stay here. You need to blow a load right now, your body is telling you.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Yache Bread (9, 10/8)

Somehow you fight down the urge. If you stay here any longer you’re going to lose control. Rusty is saying something else now but you’re not really listening anymore.

>”I should go.”

>Fight your dick and ask more questions

>Quickly ask the Nidoking for a room

>Give in to the pheromones

Chapter Text

After momentarily taking hold of your senses, you begin to breathe as shallow as you can. It helps a little, you think. Not wanting to walk out rudely, you try to explain the situation to Rusty. “Sorry, I d-didn’t catch- the smell in here is really, w-wow, I’m getting k-k- kind of uncomfortable.” You throw him a wink for extra subtlety. “We should find s-some- mm- somewhere else to do it- to do this, I m-mean.”

Rusty’s eyes go wide and he looks across the room at the fem-salandit’s pedestal. His ears stay swiveled towards you and you can see the skin inside of them get flushed red. “Ah hell, is this your first time around a- it must be hitting you hard.”

You awkwardly waddle to the bar counter while keeping your dangling bits tucked between your legs in an attempt to keep it from getting harder or poking into the front of your kilt and becoming obvious. Worse, the thought of it becoming obvious is really tempting. “May I h- may I have a room? I- d-don’t want to cause a-” Reduced again to a stammering mess, you swallow a lump in your throat. You wish Spring was here to do the talking.

>Murdoch Charm: Dependent, Pushover (15/14)

The Nidoking has a sympathetic look on his face. He’s picked up on the not at all subtle clues about what’s happening. A big, metal key is quickly clacked onto the counter in front of you. It doesn’t look modern, it’s like something you would see in medieval times. The number three is molded into the bow of the key. You wrap the loop around your wrist so you don't fumble and drop it.

“Take care of yourself, kid. We’ll talk payment later.”

“Actually, I’ll cover his room,” Rusty walks up beside you and scoops a pawful of Poke from the bag around his neck. “It was my guildmate that caused the problem after all. Sorry about that Roman.” There’s useful information in what he’s saying, but you can only manage to squeak out a thanks and hurry to the room.

The private part of the inn has round doorways that remind you of a hobbit hole. Picking the one with the number 3 on it, you fumble the key until you get it open and practically fall inside, slapping it shut with your tail. You let your face and chest fall onto something soft and reach down, grabbing your offending organ and rubbing it with your scaled paws. Half formed thoughts remind you that you still have a Yache potion to calm arousal, but maybe you don’t need it now that you have some privacy.

Your imagination runs wild. You imagine marching back out there and sticking your snout right under that beautiful lizard’s tail. Grazing your tongue along the lip of her entrance and then diving in, drinking her up like a man who’s been dying of thirst. She would lift up her leg so that everyone could look and stare at you servicing her like you were always meant to do, filling them all with jealousy-

A knock at the door interrupts your rampant fantasies. Rusty’s voice carries through the wood. “Are you feeling any better? We can just talk through the door if you need to, you know. Or I could come back later.”

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Yache Bread (11, 15/8)

You’re somehow still holding it in and haven’t painted the room white yet or made a mess of the bed.

>>Deal with Rusty

>Talk to Rusty through the door

>Tell Rusty he can come inside

>Ask him to come back later

>>Solve the pheromone problem

>Finish jerking off

>Use Yache potion to restore higher brain function

>Ask if Astra wants to come finish what she started

>Send for one of the girls to help you out

>Tell Rusty he can “come inside”

>Hold it in like a man

Chapter Text

You heave in a heavy breath. Air floods your lungs, sending a wave of fire through your scaled skin and focusing itself into a needy heat down in your loins. Any thoughts of chemical assistance burn up in the fire as it travels up to your brain. Like smoke, a haze rises and settles in your skull, replacing the blood flowing down to other places. The two brain cells you have left not bouncing back and forth the irresistible need to nut seize control of your jaws and tongue in turn and, cooperating, make words happen.

“It’s, you can come back later, I m-mean, unless, unless, ha ha.” Oh, no. There they go. Your last two functioning brain cells are gone now. The sound they make when they snap is like a laugh, but it is in truth the final dying gasp of your nervousness as the intoxication takes complete control. Your legs are steady now as you walk to the door and draw it open just a crack. Behind the cover of the door your paw reaches down to find tender flesh and grasp it while you look Rusty in the eye. His ears are as red as a sunset on a clear day, his eyes warped by concern. Your own blush is hidden conveniently beneath black scales. Wetness trails over your fingers, and the weakness that hits your legs would bring you to your knees if not for your tail so helpfully propping you up. Rusty can probably see each jerking motion as it shakes your body. Knowing that he knows, seeing his eyes flicker curiously to the place where only a few inches of door hide your naked dick, makes it that much more thrilling.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Exhibitionism, Yache Bread (19, 10/10)

>Murdoch Charm: Pheromones (10 + 2)

“Unless you want to come inside?” The suggestion is delivered with the kind of confidence only displayed by the morbidly drunk. You even manage not to stutter. Rusty’s ears swing back against his head and he makes a pained expression. His tail puffs up, flustered by your innuendo.

The other human turns away from you and holds a paw to his face, as if it could hide the burning in the soft tissue of his ears. You afford yourself a playful peek at the little fuzzy package swaying between his legs. “Oh man. Oh man, are all Pokemon here so horny or is it only the Salandits?” he mutters to himself. You can hear him swallow, finding the stones to look you in the eye again. “I’m really sorry, humans don’t really usually do this kind of thing so casually, I’ll come back later when you’re feeling better.” A coy, knowing smirk is plastered across your shit-eating lizard face as the humor of his words boils and bubbles in your throat.

“Aha, ha, don’t worry. Maybe Astra would like to come finish what she started?” you suggest. Ears perking back up, Rusty bobs them back and forth as he nods his head. Then, his eyes go wide with sudden realization and the poor appendages must be suffering from whiplash, because they slap back against his head with enough force to ruffle his bushy tail fur in the resulting wind.

“Fuck. You could get her pregnant.”

The grin freezes on your face and your claw stops urging your manhood to the brink as a cold sobering fact slaps you across the cheek and drops into your stomach like a heavy stone. But then that fact stews in the boiling pot of horny that has replaced your core. With a dopey giggle you muse, “That would be kind of hot.”

It seems your poor decision making was the catalyst that pushed this helpful man turned Eevee into your waiting arms. Swallowing down his hesitation, Rusty pushes his head into the room and you step back readily, flopping a little painfully onto the bed whose only cushioning is a straw mat. Splayed out happily for his eyes to drink in, you watch him knock the door shut with his foot. “You could really screw up your life like this. I’m only going to help jerk you off man, nothing crazier than that. No homo, alright?” he says with a lack of conviction as he pads closer, sitting between your legs. His own red head pokes itself out of the tip of his sheath, the smell hitting your sensitive nostrils.

Lifting just one paw, Rusty squeezes the soft pads of his beans around your pecker.

Joke’s on him. You’re into that shit.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Paws, Yache Berry (1, 17)

>Rusty Lewd: (6)

It was barely holding. Now, the dam bursts and a flood of sensation pulses through your body, curling your toes into the packed dirt floor. Immediately you begin to fountain a geyser of white into the air with such sudden force that Rusty twitches back and withdraws his paw. You insistently hump the empty air, flopping your unbound hose and sending ropes flying in every direction. When one splatters across Rusty’s face he panics, grabs hold again, and pumps while directing the flood back onto you. It covers your chest, and flies up across your nose and snout, some of it landing in your gaping mouth and leaving a salty, gooey wetness on your tongue.

It keeps coming. The female’s potent pheromones tell your body to pump it all into her. Your neurons scream “Egg!” with all their might even as the only oven your batch of batter finds itself in is one made out of four sandstone walls in the desert. Soon you are empty. You feel spent. Your limbs collapse, unable to prop you up any more, and your limp erection recedes into its housing. A heap of lizard lies on a bundle of straw, heaving laboured breaths. Slowly the haze recedes and Murdoch is once again at the helm, struck with sobriety as the empty afterglow chases off the effects of Astra’s fumes.

You look up at Rusty, who is trying to wipe the streak of cum off of his face. More of it glazed his furry ruff when you flailed your cock around like a helicopter. The room has not fared much better. “Oh, o-oh. Oooh Murdoch, what did you do now,” you flop back onto the mat and hold your head in your hands. Another stranger you came on within minutes of meeting them. So much for your reputation in this little hamlet.

“Wait,” sniffing the air and accidentally receiving a heady whiff of your ejaculate, Rusty wrinkles his nose and stares into the wall, then he looks down at you, who are peeking back up at him through cracks between your fingers. Realization has once again dawned on his face. “Astra. How do you know Astra’s name?”

Chapter Text

At first, the surprise of letting that information slip makes you freeze up. Astra likes to lounge out in public, so you could pass it off as her reputation. Yet another part of you thinks back, and being honest with Larissa didn’t go so badly. You made a friend, multiple friends even.

“I’m, uh, s-sorry about that. Let me- I’ll- just, I’ll clean that up.” Deep breaths bring you down from the post-orgasmic excitement and you start trying to wipe your baby batter out of Rusty’s ruff. With no cloth to wipe it off with you have nothing to with it do but lick it from the hard surface of your clawed hands while Rusty watches. His ears and head are bent back, but his left ear twitches up and a peek out of the corner of your eye shows he’s still excited himself. Watching you suck cum from your fingers with your long flexible tongue must be filling his head with other thoughts, and your own pheromones now hanging in the air can’t be helping.

“See, I’m, I’m a human t-too actually. And Aster was one of m-my picks for partners at the start.”

Horniness is foregotten by the wayside and Rusty’s eyes go wide, ears shooting up like little satellites as if to make sure he isn’t hearing things. “Really? You’re one of my rivals?” Then he closes one eye partway and cocks his mouth sideways. “I guess this wasn’t Pokemon being horny then, you’re just kind of a weirdo.”

“Y-yeah,” you admit sheepishly, but honestly as you lick your snout where some more lizard cream splattered you in the face. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, helping with that actually. T-totally no homo right, it’s just good etiquette to- you know- to repay a bro when he helps you out.” With your eyes you motion down to the erection peeking out of his sheath. Rusty still looks apprehensive so you backpedal a little and add, “Or we could j-just talk about stuff. I’m Murdoch- did I say that already? How- how was becoming an Eevee?”

A claw shoots out reflexively and he reaches out to place his paw in your palm. A rush from your magic fingers turns the thin insides of his ears scarlet, but he doesn’t pull away right away. It doesn’t look like Rusty realized it was something you did, because he doesn’t mention it when he adjusts his paws in front of him to hide his erection.

You lie down and curl up on the straw bed and politely pat the other side to invite him to sit with you. Something beats out his hesitance and Rusty does a walk around to pad down a spot, the settles in. The backs of your arms are touching and he looks away to avoid staring into your face just a hand’s width apart. “I guess becoming an Eevee wasn’t so bad. I had to get used to not having thumbs. Fonz helped me out a lot. That’s the Larvitar, he’s my partner.” Rusty’s starting to settle down as things cool into more normal conversation. Normal by the standards of kidnapped humans turned Pokemon. “What, or who did you get for a partner?”

“My partner’s Gwen, she’s a Poochyena. Kind of gruff, but I l-like it. She’s, good to have around.” You laugh awkwardly remembering the time the two of you met. “I didn’t give the b-best first impression. I accidentally came on her too and had to clean it up.”

“You are a weird little guy,” though Rusty pokes fun and looks down his nose at you with a smirk, he doesn’t sound cruel about it. “Fonz and I met in one of the rooms here. Our first time didn’t go very well. In a dungeon, I mean,” he quickly clarifies. “We haven’t done that. But yeah, Astra and her friend had to rescue us and ended up joining our Guild. I got better since then. Eevees start out pretty weak.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (17, 1/10)

The ice is broken now. Finally turning to look at you, Rusty appears to be working up his courage to say something as if he had stage fright. He swallows down some saliva and forces himself to relax, ears dropping from their agitated state and hanging relaxed at the sides of his head. “I haven’t met any other humans since I got here. I want to show you something. If you could wish for something right now, what would it be?”

>What would you wish for?

Chapter Text

>1: Intrusive Thoughts, 2+3: Ingredients, 4: Dethrone King, 5: Mystery Gift, 6: Cuddling

>d6 Result: 3

Tongue lolling out of the side of your mouth, you drool a little, imagining something delicious to snack on. For once, that something is actual food. The last time you had a real kitchen to work with was staying with Larissa’s guild, and it felt good getting to apply yourself to something you feel confident in.

The look on your face must seem devious, because Rusty starts to show signs of regret for making the offer. “You wouldn’t wish for me to bang you again, right dude?”

Playfully putting on a grin, you touch your chin and wiggle your tail. “Well,” you draw it out and then laugh. “N-no. I would rather you do that willingly~!” His ears redden again as you unfurl your limbs from beneath yourself. He looks unused to people flirting with him so openly. You stand and put a paw to your chest. “I’ll have you know, I am a- a great chef. So I wish for the rarest ingredients in the land!”

Your display is contagious, and Rusty stands up as well, flicking his tail. One of his paws daintily lifts from the ground and settles over your own. “That I can do. Your wish is my command!” The rims of his ears glow with a golden light, forming a halo behind his head. Running down in coiling rivulets, the light forms a pool on the floor, and little bulbs and shapes start to rise form it.  

>Rusty Power: Advantage (14, 15/12)

Speckled color starts to overtake the light, claiming the form of a wooden platter. It is covered in clay jars smelling of spice, of cinnamon and of oregano. A wooden bowl of peanuts and apples sits beside them, a jug of fresh milk, and a pair of ripe Shuca Berries. Rusty breathes in the smells and then lets out a satisfied, if fatigued sigh. With one smooth motion he drops into a loaf. “I’m not if these are really rare. Right now I can only grant small wishes once a day.” Rusty explains while you scamper over to inspect the new ingredients. There’s not much you can make with just this, maybe some cinnamon apples?

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (16, 9/8)

Shuca Berries are tons of fun, because they make you float in the air. It’s only just above the ground, but you can kick off of things to jump higher than normal or go flying horizontally in a direction.

A knock comes from the door in the midst of your sorting ingredients and Gwen’s voice barks from the other side. “Murdoch! We back.” You look around at the room, where some of your cum splatters are drying on the floor and the smell is still in the air.

“Is that your partner?” Rusty asks, also looking nervous after your naughty pawjob.

Chapter Text

“Just a moment!” you call, running a paw through the fluff on Rusty’s head and trying to soothe him. “Don’t worry. They’ll t-tease us… mostly me, heheh. I d-don’t mind.” If anything, the teasing is a plus. “Thanks for the fruit, it’s just what I was hoping for.”

Your positive reinforcement soothes your rather friendly rival’s worries. Rusty must be Jirachi’s contestant, you think to yourself. Some ideas for sharing your own abilities come to mind.

>Flipping coin: Heads collar on Gwen, Tails collar on Rusty

>Result: Heads

As fun as a playful prank would be, you’re not sure you could pull it off without getting the girls in on it first. For today you decide to keep things simple. Opening the door, you are greeted by Gwen brushing past you and sniffing at the air. Behind her, Spring saunters in and flicks you playfully on the nose. “She could smell you from outside you know. Now look, you’ve gone and made her jealous.”

Gwen huffs. “Not jealous.” She steps around a bit of spunk on the floor and eyes up Rusty.

>Rusty Will: Disadvantage (19, 9/10)

Unable to keep eye contact with her fierce gaze, Rusty turns his face down and flattens his flushed ears. “Ah, uh, sorry if I overstepped. He was hopped up on Salandit fumes and I-” he freezes up into a standing position and his tail sticks into the air, fluffed  and puffy, as Gwen brushes past him and then up alongside his other side. You slide in beside her and slip your second golden collar around her neck, receiving a slobbery puppy kiss across your face in return.

“Murdoch always horny,” she says in her gruff voice, whipping Rusty’s fluffy backside with her tail. “No mind. We share. You horny too.” Leaning down, she peeks under his legs at the now freely bobbing evidence that is own arousal has anything but vanished.

“Oh, ahaha, that’s really cool and all but I’m not into guys, I was just - ah - oh!” While Gwen ruffles Rusty’s ruff with her hot breath, you catch Spring’s eye locking the door behind her. She clicks her tongue and winks at you, drawing closer. The cheeky monkey pushes you backwards onto the bed, sprawled out much as you were presenting yourself in front of Rusty.

She slides into bed beside you and runs her fingers over your chest, the light touch tickling through your scaled skin. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves before we get carried away, Gwen?”

“Hmf. Am Gwen, this Spring.” A short and sweet introduction as always. Gwen breaks way from the cuddle pile to sit in front of the bed, allowing Rusty to quickly sit down and hide his embarrassment again. She looks at him expectantly, one of her ears cocked to the side and tail lazily swaying over the dusty floor.

>Rusty Intelligence: Disadvantage (2, 17/10)

Rusty licks his lips and responds, “It’s Rusty. Leader of Jirachi’s Guild.” He eyes the golden hoop around her neck but it doesn’t clue him in. “Since Murdoch is a human too, you must be with…”

“Hoopa,” you answer with a chuckle. “He’s a b-bit lewder than the others I think. J-just a bit.”

“Just a bit?” Spring echoes playfully.

“Eheh, m-more than a bit maybe. So Rusty, if- if it’s not too forward, what are you into? Like your um, y-your kinks?” you grin at him, exchanging sheepish expressions. “If you don’t want me to repay you, m-maybe it’s um, it’s not homo if it’s in a foursome?” To punctuate the offer, Gwen walks up to him and rubs her chin over his face, muffling his answer until he pulls away just enough to free his muzzle.

“I guess it would be okay, then… just one thing. I don’t want to do anything with my dick in the main hole, you know? Safety first,” he pulls back and anxiously looks Gwen in the eye. “I’m not ready to become a father and you’re definitely in my egg group.” The nervousness visibly melts away again when Gwen grunts and nods in agreement. There’s more hesitation in his voice as he tries to put together what he’s into, though. “If you’re okay to try anything, I guess what I like is… sucking on… nipples?” he whispers it as though his adorably vanilla fetish is something to be ashamed of.

With a butt of her head under his torso, Gwen flips Rusty onto his back and steps over him, lying on top to pin him down. With a paw she brushes some of the fur away from the part of her belly in front of his face, revealing a little black nub of skin. Eyes wide and ears as red as a Cheri, Rusty locks his mouth around it and, careful not to bite down with his teeth, begins to play with it with his tongue. You’re not sure Gwen would mind if he got a little rough, but he just seems like a gentle soul. His cock stands at attention behind Gwen’s booty and glistening cookie, twitching in excited anticipation.

“Guess somebody better lube them up if she’s doing some backdoor,” Spring gets up and pulls you with her. “Then let’s see who can make their bed buddy cum the fastest. I think it’s a fair handicap Murdoch here already finished once,” she tickles under your chin with a finger. “Our cute little quickshot. You get her ready and I’ll handle him so he doesn’t get all confused about a guy licking his rod.”

Spring lies down on her stomach with her head between Rusty’s legs and starts to wet his length with her tongue. You crawl over top of her, the flaming tail above her cheeks lapping against your crotch with pleasant but not painful heat. Maybe a little bit painful, when your dick starts to complain about being invited out of its slit while it’s still resting from minutes before. With Gwen’s tush in front of you, you lean forward and drag your tongue over both of her holes, teasing them. Some natural lubricant from her wet cookie trails up with your tongue to prepare her tight black tailhole. You take hold of her two hindpaws and massage their soft yet rough surfaces with your opposable paws.

Everyone you’ve met here is so far immaculately clean down here. In fact, you’ve never seen or felt the need to do your business since you got here. It’s weird how the little revelations come sometimes, but it’s an interesting fact. And a happy one, for you can dig your tongue in deep and slick her up on all sides without worry. While you’re giving her prep, Rusty thoughtfully reaches down with one of his paws to rub at her other entrance, earning a grumbling purr of pleasure in Gwen’s deep voice.

Spring pulls back and tugs on your collar, bringing you back. She helps angle Rusty up into Gwen’s ass. She eases herself down onto it, letting him continue to suckle on her chest. You soon find yourself on your back under Spring, arms held down at your sides. As she’s about to lean down and whisper something lurid in your ear, you hear a rumbling sound. And the two of you can’t help but laugh.

“How about I cook us something after? Rusty got me some new ingredients. Hey Rusty, are we allowed to use the kitchen here?” You look to him laying beside you. His eye turns to you and he mumbles something that sounds like a yes into Gwen’s titty, the vibration again making her purr. A purr that quickly turns into a growl.

“Not waiting long,” Gwen presses, holding still with Rusty’s shaft halfway inside her, waiting for you and Spring to get in position for their race.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported (12, 18/8)

“Pick fast, we’re already handicapped, how do you want it?” Spring asks, taking hold of your aching dick in her dextrous hindpaw. It has managed to get itself up again from grinding against Spring’s tail while you were prepping the others. “Oh, and what does the winning team get?”

>How do you want it?

>What does the winner get?

Chapter Text

Trying to think about the stakes of victory and loss in the state you’re in is no easy task. The haze of arousal and the dull throb of your short refractory break mix into a cloud in your head. You manage to kick a leg against Spring’s and tell her, “J-just like that.”

“Like this?” with smooth strokes, she pumps your pink flesh with curled toes, the pale beige of her skin bright in contrast. The surface is tough and yet smooth, like vinyl fabric that’s been warmed from the inside. So, so warm. Her inner fire bubbles to the surface, mingling with your own natural heat. The space between the two of you is like a sauna, the air beginning to dampen with steam. You release Sweet Scent into the air, using the natural heat and mingling your pheromones with Spring’s sweat.

>Murdoch Power: Supported, Disadvantage (10, 13/8)

A heavy scent begins to fill the air. Gwen’s bouncing atop Rusty becomes more fierce, slamming him down into the cushioning of the inn’s bed. He’s going to be sore tonight, and most likely tomorrow.

Spring lowers herself, pressing her upper body to yours’ and she whispers sensually into your ear. “What does the winner get, Murdoch? Just move that tongue, nice and slow. You can do it, champ.”

>Murdoch Will: Supported (16/8)

>Dirty Talk Fetish resisted: You may choose to accept it instead

Your breath hitches, heart beating hard against the short, soft reddish-orange fur of her chest. “D-duh, d- mm. The w- the l-losers have to feed the w-winners?” It doesn’t come out right. You still want to cook. Test with the new ingredients. “M- I mean. Like royalty. The w-winners lounge while the losers f-feed them.”

“Sounds hot. Let’s do it. You good with the bet, rival?” Spring lifts her head to look at Gwen and Rusty. One ear flicks towards you and he shuffles his head, up and down, from within the confines of Gwen’s chest fur. It may not have been perceptible at all if not for his broad, bobbing ears.

“C-can you call me that again?”

“Hm?” Spring hums into your ear as you try not to moan. You can feel wetness dribbling from your tip, flowing between the wrinkles of her paw and down into the crevices of your slit.

“A champ. C- can you call me your l- your little pogchamp?” You might die of embarrassment later from uttering this out loud, but in the moment there’s no more time for that kind of thinking.

She laughs, the sound so close, so quiet, as soft and enticing as her whispers. The sound brushes the entrance of your ear canal, vibrating down into your skull and bouncing around within the belly of your senses, dancing in the empty space like butterflies. “Is that a human thing? Sure, whatever gets us on top.” The mockery in her voice is not cruel, but playful. Spring doesn’t get it. But she’s willing to play along with her little toy’s request.

A finger reaches up, surface smooth and warm as her hind paw. It trails down your chin, the light touch of a fraction of the skin’s surface against your scales creating an invisible lightning. “Cum for me, little pogchamp.”

>Murdoch and Spring Lewd: Murdoch Disadvantage, Sweet Scent, Supported, Paws, Exhibitionism, Lewd Games, Bets, Round 2 (8, 2 + 9 + 10 = 21)

>Rusty and Gwen Lewd: Gwen Advantage, Nipple Sucking, Pheromone Tolerance (12, 15 + 3 + 0 = 18)

That smell in the air, it’s doing more against you than it is against Rusty. But right now you want to go off. You want to spur your little quickshot into action and splatter your load against Spring’s underside. Your shaft hardens in preparation, and Spring can feel it twitch. Immense heat floods up inside of you.

“That’s it, little pogchamp. Let it all out.”

You do. There’s no dam to break through, you’re not holding it back at all, you’re willing it to happen. Stringy shots of Salandit spunk squirt between your belly and Spring’s, creating a sticky hot mess as your combined body heat keeps it from cooling. You can feel her smiling, cheek against the side of your head. She won, and she knows it even without looking up at the competition.

The pounding your opponent is receiving is anything but subdued.  After you finish, Spring moves her head to the other side of your cushion so that you both can watch. Gwen is riding him, and hard. He’s trying to thrust back into her backdoor, but he can’t manage to find a rhythm against the wild cowgirl he’s getting. Maybe he would have done better matched up with Spring, and her not so cool confidence.

You have little doubt that Gwen could have milked you dry in her own way, and all too happily have strangled your lizard bits in her moist cookie.

To Rusty’s credit, the little fox is anything but selfish. His pawpad rubs against Gwen’s spade even in the mighty throes of her motions. You can see her twitch, but not finish first. Rusty follows in your wake shortly after, thrusting up into her firm hindquarters and shooting off the belated ropes of his loss up her ass.

Once satisfied that he is finished, Gwen pulls herself off of Rusty and places a paw on his face, extracting him from her nipple. “You okay.”

“T-thanks?”

Walking around you and leaving Rusty to wonder whether is pride should be spared or bruised by her comment, Gwen sniffs at Spring’s side. “You finish?”

“Girl, I didn’t even put anything in anywhere. I won though~!”

“Congratulation. Get him to finish. Good with paws,” she brusquely shoves the monkey and Spring rolls overtop of you, landing next to Rusty on his side of the bed. Huffing air into her cheeks, Spring blows it out while she brushes a curl of away from her forehead.

“Rude.”

>Rusty Lewd: (15)

>Spring Lewd: Lewd Games, Bets, Sweet Scent (-1)

Spring takes it in stride all the same, and turns over to lie with her head in one palm and play her fingers across Rusty’s chest. “Mind finishing me off like a gentleman before you feed me supper?” Acquiescing to her demands, Rusty draws in closer and reaches between her legs with his paw. His nails are trimmed neatly short and dull, not exactly the claws of a physical battler. And his soft pad plays with her clit as she pulls him against her sticky chest and grinds into it.

All the foreplay had Spring suitably hot and bothered, and she soon lets out a sharp gasp between her teeth that signals she’s reached her climax.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported, Sweet Scent (12, 16)

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Worship (Dom), Heavy Petting, Pawholding (2, 4)

On the other hand, Gwen walks overtop of you, holding her hindquarters above your head. “Murdoch, know what to do?” You reach out to one of her forepaws with your hindclaw and she wraps the digits between each other, smiling upside down at you across your two bellies. Coarser fur drops against your scales, and Gwen takes hold of your other foot in her paw. Your forelimbs wrap around her booty and bring it down, stuffing your snout up her pussy to give her a deep treatment with your tongue, brushing far into her inner reaches. Your claws dig into the fur near the base of her tail, scratching at her tough skin.

Gwen does not leave you to take care of her without some stimulation of her own. Maybe in answer to your earlier treatment, she lowers her muzzle against the base of your tail and drags her warm, wet tongue across your butt. She doesn’t get to tickle your tailhole for long, because you know all her spots.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported (13, 5/8)

It comes as much of a surprise to her as it does to you, her foot kicking out from under her and ripping some straw from the inn mattress when your claws dig into one of her favorite scratching spots and your tongue expertly winds itself in and out of her. Leaning back into the mattress and then shoving deeper, you fuck her with your snout.

Expertly? Did you just describe yourself as doing something expertly in bed?

Yes… yes, and you meant it too. When you feel her cum barely twenty seconds into your ministrations and hold your breath to avoid being choked by her fluids, you feel those butterflies bouncing in your stomach again, and this time swelling up with a sense of pride until you feel you could burst like an overfilled balloon. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this. Not a hint of Hoopa’s power, and she’s like putty in your hands.

>Murdoch has gained the Cunning Linguist Skill

>Murdoch has earned the Gwen Expert Perk: Ignore Disadvantage when Lewding Gwen

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Confidence Boost (16, 13/6)

When Gwen pulls off of you, still riding that high, you release a puff of held air from your lungs. All the swelling pride and bouncing butterflies release at once and you smell a distinct whiff of Salandit pheromones in that exhale. It comes easily, as easily as breathing, for once without the struggle to make your new Pokemon body obey.

>Murdoch has Trained his Sweet Scent

>When using a Trained Move, he will have Advantage, or ignore Disadvantage

>Only one Move can be Trained at a time

In the warm afterglow of that moment, Gwen lays down firmly on top of you and presses her snout against the tip of your nose. With a lick, she slurps up the liquids she just spilled all over you and looks at your eyes, for once absent of doubt.

“Mine,” she tells you.

“Yours’,” you answer, for once steady, and wholly absent of a stutter.

You can see her in the periphery, Spring with every ounce of her willpower resisting the urge to butt in and make a joke of this moment. It would be to grasp beyond the pale, more damaging to the two girls’ friendship than any number of fights over bounties and the course of justice, to make mockery of this, here, now. Closing her mouth, Spring finds contentment at giving you a wink and pulling Rusty off of the bed. “Let’s go get cleaned up and ready the kitchen for Murdoch.”

“Sure. Um, I’ll see you later, dude,” he says.

The moment alone stretches, Gwen and Murdoch, lost in one another’s eyes. “We should probably clean up, too. I have to cook after this.” She keeps looking at you. “We can cuddle later. As long as you want.”

“I know.” Gwen brushes her head underneath your chin.

“I’ll scrub you clean.”

A growling purr reverberates in her belly, against yours’. “You convince me.” Gwen peels herself reluctantly away from your body and walks with you to the inn’s bathing rooms.

You still smell of pheromones. You’re confident you washed yourself thoroughly, but there’s a thin mist hanging in the air around you now. The same background scent that hangs in the pub room where Astra is lounging. The cooking area is outside, behind the building, a bonfire beneath a shaded roof, with a shed built into the back of the inn housing their cookware and some simple supplies.

Suppose it makes sense they wouldn’t want a cooking fire inside during the day. It’s hot enough out here for the non-Fire types. The desert wind carries the smell away, brushing past Spring’s twitching nose beside you.

She leans on the side of the shed, looking at you with a pleased smirk. “You’re positively glowing. And might I say, you smell delectable. But I think Gwen would bite me if I snuck an extra helping while I’m supposed to be helping you cook.” The fiery monkey slides her fingers between one another and stretches them far behind her head. “Consider me your personal assistant, just this once.”

The Jirachi Guild will be feeding your team their supper while you lounge like royalty. Now to figure out what it is you’ll be eating like royalty. You have your stockpile of Berries, the jars of spices and the peanuts and apples you wished up from Rusty. And lastly a jug of milk that’s definitely going bad in this heat if you don’t use it today, whether it’s drinking or cooking.

The inn has a supply of flour and a simple outdoor oven to use with the cooking fire. They also have a diverse selection of dried pasta that keeps well without refrigeration, and some jugs of cooking oil. Simple necessities, with their fresher ingredients coming in from the two Berry groves that the outpost boasts. A well provides ample water.

So, Murdoch. What will you be cooking today?

Chapter Text

An array of ingredients rests on a platter on the ground, visions of what they could become imprinted behind your closed eyes. Scaled chin rested on your fingertips, scratching ever so lightly at the surface. So many things you could do, even with so few ingredients. Options can be paralyzing. But among them one of your thoughts chants: “Milk bread! Milk bread!” The baker in you latches onto the idea and rolls with it.

You could turn this milk into something tasty before it goes bad. Even into something bite sized, easily portioned out so that everyone gets a piece. You open your eyes and peer into Spring’s, who is watching you from up close. “Did you decide yet, chef?”

With a steady voice you announce, “I have.” The intoxicating high of confidence is still pumping through you. It fills your little fingers with purpose and dexterity, though you may be working with fewer than you are used to. This is your area. Baking is what you do best. It’s time to show everyone.

To start, you hold up your claws and look at the sand and dirt stuck to them from crawling around on the ground. Drawing up some water from the well, you wash yourself off. After you’ve scrubbed clean, Spring does the same. When you begin flicking the excess water off onto the ground, Spring takes a hold of your wrist. “You want to see a cool trick for clean hands?”

“S-sure!” You fold your claws together and turn to watch Spring, who lifts one hand to her mouth. She carefully purses her lips and blows, exhaling a tiny plume of fire.

>Spring Power: Advantage, Survival, Cooking (9, 7/6)

She draws the fire along her fingers with a practiced ease. Tongues of flame lick into the creases of her skin, over the tendons between her fingers, tracing every contour. Once Spring is finished with one hand, she inhales and begins tracing across the other. By the time she’s finished with each, the skin of her hands is a flush red. But there are no blisters or burns.

“Isn’t that p-painful? H-how do you not burn yourself?” you wonder aloud. Even Fire types must have a limit. She turns up her palms into the air on either side of her and walks towards you with a sway in her step, before twirling around and pressing her rump against your lower body. She’s just enough taller than you that she needs to bend down, sticking out her butt like she’s about to twerk against you. The breath hikes up in your throat and her flaming tail licks pleasantly against your scales.

“Is that painful?”

“N-no… b-but maybe we should save this for later?”

Spring chuckles and pulls her tush away from your pelvis, reaching down to lift one of your folded claws with a single finger. Her skin is warm like a rock that’s been resting in the sun for hours. It makes you want to nuzzle into her hands and soak it in. Or have her stroke your face down both cheeks. Seeing you start to get distracted daydreaming, Spring snaps her fingers to wake you back up. “Listen. We can control how hot our fire is with practice, and the hottest we can take is way higher than anyone else. You can learn to heat your skin enough to make it a sterile surface.”

>Spring Power: Advantage, Survival, Cooking (6, 9/6)

Her head lowers and she purses her lips, beginning to trace a tiny flame along the contours of your forepaws. An intense warmth washes over your scales, enough you could almost imagine them glowing from the heat. It sinks into your nails, warming the marrow deep down in their core. First one digit, then the next. First one paw, then the next. As if her Ember were licking over your fingers with a real, living tongue of gentle, purifying flame.

When Spring is done, your claws feel intensely warm. And definitely dry and clean. She plants a small contact kiss on the tip of your snout. “I know you have trouble controlling your fire, so I can do it for you whenever you need.” Then, she gets a wry, playful look and leans in closer to whisper in your ear, “Maybe I can show you what a firejob feels like sometime. It’s been a while since I had another Fire mon to do it with.”

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Came Twice Today, Confident (13, 15/4)

You gulp down some saliva, as Spring steps away and holds up her hands. “So what are we making, chef?” Ignoring the warmth in your loins is easier than usual after going two rounds already today.  You pick up a bowl from the cooking utensils and hand it to her.

“We’re starting with some m-milk bread. Have you ever m-made it before?”

“You bet I have. So soft and fluffy,” Spring hums and licks her lips. You don’t need to give her much direction and she’s already picking out the basic ingredients to start on the dough.  It’s nice you don’t have to babysit her on how to do each step. Instead you get started picking out filling to make the bread more alive. You don’t have sweetened milk, so you pick out a sweet Pecha berry to dice up. Crushed peanuts will add some variety to the dish’s nutrition and deepen the flavor profile.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Supported, Confident (9, 2/4)

>Spring Intelligence: Survival, Cooking, Competitive (8/8)

While you work on your half of the prepwork for the milk bread, you find yourself getting so into a familiar zone that you wind up reaching repeatedly for utensils from your own kitchen that aren’t there. Luckily you are able to make do with what you have. Spring gets distracted trying to finish her half before you when her competitive nature gets the better of her, but when she almost fumbles the bowl and narrowly avoids the dough plopping into the sand, she cuts it out and gets serious.

Once the first dish is in the oven and baking, you start thinking about what side dishes you could make to accompany it. The simplest and most obvious is cooking some caramelized apples with cinnamon. It’s a great, easy dessert to accompany your tasty buns.

When everything is cooking, all that’s left is to hurry up and wait. A baker’s greatest virtue is patience. Or finding good ways to pass the time. Sitting against the warm sandstone walls of the inn, you look around at the outpost. Being in your element again has you thinking of the bakery you plan to start, and who might make a good addition to your roster.

“Do you think anyone h-here would m-make a good recruit?” you ask Spring, who’s sitting beside you.

Spring laces her fingers between each other behind her head clicks her tongue. “If you still have a resort in mind, we’ll need variety for the menu. They have two berry gardens at the outpost, it wouldn’t hurt the place too bad if you poached one of the gardeners for our team.”

The two fenced in enclosures of colorful bushes are aligned opposite one another, with each of them on one side of the oasis. You give them a second look.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (16, 12)

First to catch your eye is the garden being tended to by a Snivy. They’re surrounded by such lush plants that you’re surprised, it’s like they’re not growing in a desert at all. You can see the Snivy gently brushing their arms along the leaves, leaving traces of a gentle green light that soak in. The grass snake looks relaxed as they twirl through the branches like a dance. In your experience, you think they’re using the move Growth to improve the health of the crop.

The second garden isn’t doing as well as the Snivy’s. By no means is it failing, none of the leaves have dried up or anything. This one just isn’t as lush or full. It’s being raised by an industrious Skorupi, who scuttles to and fro frantically. Must take a lot of work competing with someone who can thrive off natural talent.

While you consider who would be better to talk to, you close your eyes and let the soothing rays of the sun relax your mind. Creating a connection to Victor comes easily and you can feel him take a deep breath and sigh contentedly as the relaxation you’re feeling comes in clear across the mindwaves.

~It feels like things are going well?~ he opens, the thoughts dancing around and between your own. You look to your left and see Spring with her eyes closed, hands behind her head, face beaming up at the sun.

~We arrived at Sweetwater Outpost and we’re just making something to eat. Spring and I are loving it here. Gwen is,~ you think over how she’s doing and some images of recent events cross your mind, passing along to Victor who you can feel blushing. ~She definitely prefers wet heat over dry heat.~

~You two are cute.~

It’s your turn to blush, but you can barely feel the change in heat beneath your cheek scales. ~Y-yeah, it was- it was really something.~ The fluttering sense of belonging in your chest does more to describe earlier events and realizations than anything you could put to words.

Victor fidgets with his thoughts. ~I’m a little jealous. Oh, not of Gwen! Not like that I mean, it’s, it was fun to… fool around together like we did. I think we could both use someone… on top though.~ His thoughts and feelings fumble and spill like a bowl of water rocking in a car.

The thought of how comfortable it was with Gwen on top of you, her warm fur pressing down like a comfort blanket. ~I think so too. B-but don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. How did your d-date thing go?~

~You mean when you made me shoot off in the middle of talking to a cute Archen?~ He sounds upset about it, but there’s laughter underneath the serious tone he’s trying to press.

~That one, yeah. Uh, s-sorry if that was going too far. I was being a bit of a cumbrain.~

There’s a pause and then he lets go of the tension, letting infectious giggles spring up. ~You’re lucky it turned out well you know. I was in a big tizzy trying to explain and, well he thought it was kind of cute even if it was kind of weird so it worked out okay. We’re going stargazing tonight.~ Giddy anticipation builds in his chest.

~That’s great. I hope it goes well!~

~How has it been with the guildwork?~

You go over a quick review of what’s happened, even some of the stuff he already knew. It helps organize your thoughts as well. While you were visiting Larissa and Mesprit’s Guild you got the clue from their Morgrem about the King being bad news, and you went to Tallspire to investigate a Zigzagoon that also ran away from his service.

~I really hope he’s alright.~ Victor commiserates with the potionmaker. The familiar discomfort that always hangs in the air when discussing the King rises back to the surface. ~Getting away from… from Him isn’t easy. Are we going to take him in if you find him?~

Even now there are mon like the Nickit you met who are trying to get out from under the King’s thumb. Inviting them all into the Guild would fill up your open spots incredibly fast. It’s something to think about, but. ~Um, I don’t know j-just yet. I still need to meet him and see w-what he’s actually l-like, you know? You said that Victini is no longer allowed to take part in the contest right?~

~Right.~

That’s a relief. You pick up the recap again from where you left off. Recounting your first meeting with Tallspire’s Guild and how much of a prick Wade is. You’d thought he might have been Victini’s champion like the King was, but it must be someone else you haven’t heard about yet if Victini is still banned.

~The good news is that we met the Jirachi Guild and they’re c-cool.~

~Feels like you’re really familiar with them already,~ Victor jokes, feeding back to you the memories he caught onto of your earlier sessions in the bedroom. The two of you share a laugh.

~Do you mind keeping a track of the guilds we’ve m-met and where they are in one of your books?~

~Sure, of course. Do you need help with anything else?~ He jumps at the chance happily, and you can feel Victor is eager to find ways to be helpful and fit in.

>Victor has logged the Rival Guilds in the rules page.

Nothing else comes to mind right away so you ask, ~Do you want any k-kind of souvenirs from the outpost while we’re here?~

Silence on the other end, while Victor thinks it over. Eventually he just shakes his head, the gesture’s intent coming across. ~Just come home safe and give me a big warm hug, okay? Poking around in the King’s business could be dangerous.~

~Aww. Miss you too, buddy. Can’t wait to introduce you to Spring, we can make that a d-double toasty hug.~

~Sounds like a good time.~

“If you want,” Spring’s voice cuts through your focus and the connection shifts, still open, to the back of your mind. You can see she’s looking at you now, and you realize you’ve been staring at her the whole time. “I can watch the buns so you can go have a chat with one of the gardeners. Inviting them over to join us for food could be a great way to break the ice and make a good first impression.”

She’s got a good point. Then again maybe it’d be better to keep dinner to just the guilds, too. You might only have enough time to talk to one of them before the food is ready. A quick invitation could get both to come over, but you’re not sure how well two rival competitors would get along.

>Talk to the Snivy?

>>Invite the Snivy to join you for dinner?

>Talk to the Skorupi?

>>Invite the Skorupi to join you for dinner?

>Quickly invite both to join you for dinner?

>Disregard them both. Talk with Spring or Victor some more.

>>Topic?

Chapter Text

Making a decision is proving difficult. Just watching that Snivy sway around and imagining those vines wrapping up around you is enough to get you going in a direction you need to suppress right away. But on the other hand, you really respect the Skorupi as a self made mon. It would be nice to have a mentor for your poison abilities, too.

In the end you decide it’s too big of a decision to make so rashly. Inviting them both to dinner doesn’t mean recruiting both or pitting them against each other like you’ve seen job recruiters do at your dad’s company. It can just be a way to get to know them.

The first is the Snivy. The garden gate into her orchard is unlocked, allowing you easy access with just a flick of the hook holding it in place. A myriad of smells play the length of your nostrils like instruments, a hundred tones of sweet and spicy. You can hear her singing to herself now, a tuneless song she hums to no melody except for the steps of her dance through the leaves.

Your claw brushes a branch aside, and her tail twitches, leaf swishing back and forth. The humming ends with a single note as she meets your eyes. “Oh! A visitor!” Delicate leaves trace the stalk of a tiny sprout, and a pair of strong vines places a watering can between the roots of a larger tree. She moves with a fluid grace until she stops in front of you. Her head turns to the side when she looks at you, letting one of her wide red eyes take you in fully. “What can I do for you?”

“W-well,” the palm of one of your claws runs over the back of your digits, flustered by thoughts of her vines wrapping you up.

>Murdoch Will: Satisfied, Confident (7/6)

Perverted thoughts are shoved aside and you smile up at her. The posture of the grass snake puts her face a little higher than your own, hunched squat. “The Jirachi and Hoopa Guilds are h-having a meal together at the inn in a bit. I wanted to get to kn- know some Pokemon who might make good Guild recruits! Would you like to come and attend?”

“That sounds like fun!” holding her leaves together in front of her, she bows her head. “I’d love to join the Guilds for dinner. When should I come over?”

“About an hour?” you suggest. The milk bread should be nearly done by then.

“I’d better finish my watering then. I’ll be there!” she assures, wrapping a prehensile vine into a loop around the bucket’s handle and lifting the water-filled container. Her grip holds it steady enough not to slip through her vine.

Exchanging a friendly wave, you step out of the garden feeling pretty good. That went well. Going to the other side of the oasis to see the other gardener takes you along the shore, green with plantlife. Grasses and even some flowers sprout up around the sustaining water, which sparkles like crystal in the sunlight. You lean down and run a claw through the water, which feels pleasantly cool. You’re not sure how Pokemon here would feel about going swimming in their water source, though.

The fence around the Skorupi’s orchard is rougher, less polished, and comes around to a gate of her own, this one locked. There is a bell hanging next to it, which you ring.

>Murdoch Intelligence: (16, 17/10)

The lock is unusually large. It doesn’t look difficult to pick, so it is mostly symbolic as a way to make it clear that the owner likes their privacy. It would not do much more than the Snivy’s gate to deter theft, even putting aside that the fence is easy to climb over. You notice something else, too. Everything from the fence, to the bell and lock, has a distinctly homemade look to it.

Tiny needle-like feet stab into the ground as the Skorupi scuttles her way through the organized rows of berry trees and bushes. Getting up on her hind legs, the scorpion looks at you through the boards of the fence. The glossy lenses over her eyes remind you of a Flygon’s natural goggles, and reading her strange insectile facial structure is hard to do. The bug clicks her mandibles together. “Can I help you?” she asks. The easy, casual pleasantness of the Snivy isn’t there, but she doesn’t sound rude or unhappy to see you either.

“Hello, I’m from one of the n-new guilds.” You offer her a smile anyways. Her facial expression doesn’t change at all, but the pointed white needles that tip the chitinous bulbs on either side of her head tap against the gate she’s perched against. Like the stingers upon her tail, they are caked in a layer of garden soil, and she smells a bit like freshly dug earth. “We’re having a dinner with the local guild and I w-wanted to invite some potential recruits. G-get to know each other, see if things vibe. Do you want to come?”

Her eyes look past you, at the inn. “A recruit? Sure, I could come see how it goes. Just give me a moment to finish what I was doing.”

“Oh, it’s n-not for a little bit yet, so don’t feel the need to rush on my account,” you quickly add with a wave of your lizardy paws. She shakes her head and drops back down onto all fours.

“I’ll be early. It’s fine, I get stressed if I’m expected somewhere and, well- I’ll be early,” the not so little bug insists, and before you can dissuade her worries further she is gone among the berry trees. She seemed interested too, so mission accomplished!

A reptilian strut brings you back over the smooth, sandy ground to where Spring is crouched in front of the oven and watching the bread slowly rise. She notices your appearance and flashes you a raised thumb. They’re rising nicely, as you soon see yourself, without the bread tearing in the process. Not that it would taste any different, there’s just a pride in seeing it come out right.

When you help Spring carry in the tray of soft, fresh milk buns, all of the noses at the occupied tables turn up and trace the scent steaming into the inn. The closing saloon doors waft the breeze towards them, whetting their appetites further.

At one table, Gwen is seated and waiting. Her eyes are locked on the mon across from her, a dark scaled lizard who looks a lot like you. One reptilian eye grazes over your approach and then settles into Gwen’s stare, meeting he with a smirk that comes easily to the female Salandit’s face. Beside Astra is the Skorupi, her legs perched upon the spare cushion that has been placed on the seat to help her reach the table with her head.

One more table has been pulled alongside them, and it holds four Pokemon. Rusty is seated on his haunches, and offers you a slightly awkward smile. Beside him is the Larvitar who’d been hanging out with him when you arrived. Across the table from them, a Maractus is standing upon the floor, sashaying habitually from side to side with a motion that causes the rattling of their bulbs to softly shaka-shaka, lending a mild tempo to the room’s ambience.

“Hey!” From behind you, a cheerful voice drifts past your ear. The gardening Snivy raises her leaved hand and waggles her fingers at you. “I saw you heading in and figured it’s time!” With light steps that brush against the dusty ground, she circles the table and takes a seat next to Gwen, looking across at the Skorupi. There is an energy between them, nothing that matches the intensity of what’s dancing in the air between the two alpha females at the table, but you’ve spent enough time around Gwen and Spring to recognize a competitive streak. Two kinds of pride coming together, brushing against each other like clouds gathering static. One, a haughty serpent who knows she’s good. The other, a bug with an upturned expression of equal, defiant pride.

With a whistle, Spring leans in and whispers in your ear, “That table looks like it’s about to explode. All yours’ fearless leader, I’ll sit with the cactus.” Taking one tray of buns, she breaks away and begins divvying out the initial portions to Rusty’s table. It’s not the first time she’s handled a hot oven tray or an assembly of baked goods, you assess. There are a few more Pokemon than you originally planned, so it’s a good thing you planned for leftovers. Your buns are sizeable, as large as the heads of some of the attending mon.

Second tray held precariously over your head, you ease it onto the table in between the girls. “H- hey! Getting along, Gwen?” you ask, pulling up a seat for yourself. The one that the Maractus had moved out of the way to stand.

Astra inhales deeply and answers first in a tone that makes your heart flutter. Her voice is deep, and a little raspy- just a little. It conjures images of a lounge singer in a red dress, the only splash of color in a smoky bar washed out in that hard-boiled noir style, standing on the stage with a microphone in hand. There’s another quality, one that sets off neurons firing in your brain, one that Gwen shares. Commanding.

“I caught your scent on the Poochyena. Was just saying to her, what a shame she cannot bear your eggs,” the candid words ruffle your bandana-like frills.

Holding a hand in front of her mouth, the Snivy gasps socially and glances at Gwen. “Oh my, that’s quite forward.” Looking rather amused at the tension between the two, she reaches out and plucks one of the still hot buns from the tray, cooling it with her breath.

“None your business,” Gwen tells the sultry Salandit with a grunt, tearing into a bun with her teeth in a display clearly meant to intimidate.

>Gwen Will: Fitness Bonus (19/8)

Even hot as they still are, Gwen is able to withstand it, moving the piece around her mouth until she acclimates enough to savor the taste. Astra, still thoroughly entertained, takes one and tears it into pieces, setting them in front of the Skorupi, whose pointy stingers are not the best for fine locomotion. “There you are, dear.”

“…Thanks.” Looking embarrassed at needing the helping hand, the Skorupi prods at one of them to test the temperature.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (17, 11/10)

There’s more in Astra’s expressions towards Gwen than just amusement from barbing competition. You catch a softer look in her eye, which she hides from Gwen by averting her focus onto doting over Skorupi, and you can hear it in her voice as well. It’s a strange blend of sad and sweet.

“Ahaha, yes. Why don’t we introduce ourselves?” Rusty proposes, cutting in and trying to clap his paws together, which doesn’t make much noise with the soft pads. He raises his voice to compensate. “I’m Rusty, but I think everybody knew that, right? This is my partner, Dino.” Raising one paw, Rusty pats it on the shoulder of the Larvitar beside him. “Guild… Guild partner I mean.” When he gets some raised brows, he clears his throat and continues, “Roxie is the Maractus. And Astra is there by Murdoch. Murdoch, why don’t you introduce your team?”

Feeling a little put on the spot, you clear your throat as well in a reflection of his gesture. “W-well, I’m Murdoch. Like he s-said. And this is Gwen, my partner.” You meet her eyes, and she smiles at you. “And all the way across there is Spring. She helped w-with the food, too.” Your Chimchar companion is leaning forward on the table, drumming her fingers on the table, and winks in response.

All that’s left are the two guests. The Snivy stands up and introduces herself first, placing the cooling bun down on the table so that she can fold her hands in front of her and incline her body. “Pleased to meet you both, my name is Leanne. Murdoch invited me.”

“Me too,” the Skorupi interjects while Leanne sits down. “I’m Darce. Or Darcie. People call me both, I don’t mind either, so pick whichever fits it for you.”

Introductions out of the way, tensions settle just a little with everyone starting to dig in. Now would be a good time to start up any conversations you felt like broaching.

>What topics to talk about?

>Which three Pokemon to focus on during dinner conversation? You will hear snippets of other conversations, but can’t engage with them all at once.

Chapter Text

The odd clash between Gwen and Astra still fresh in your mind, you find it hard to broach the topics you want to without addressing it first. Something is obviously going on with Astra, but a burning desire to defend Gwen’s honor simmers up inside of your chest.

You aren’t the only one at the event to notice the tension. Sashaying next to Astra with a skip and a hop, the Maractus, Roxie, leans down and whispers into her ear hole. Astra’s nostrils flare with a tiny puff of purple flame, and the bandana-shaped frills of her neck twitch. Taking her bun with her, Astra steps away from the table and moves to the other side of Darcie, while Roxie takes her former spot next to you.

“Sorry,” whispers the Maractus. You can see by the flinch in her eyes, she wants to say more. But she only says, “I’ll talk to her later. Sorry.” Roxie bites into her milk bun and remains softly swaying her round base back and forth like swishing hips, but her rhythm and tempo are slower now. You make a mental note to talk to Astra later about this.

Grateful for Roxie’s help with the awkward social situation, you offer her a smile and then take Gwen’s paw into your own underneath the table. She looks at you, with a puff of bread sticking out between her teeth after she tried to down an entire bun in one bite, during that moment you looked away. Stifling a surprised giggle, you reach out and help pull part of it off to set on the table in front of her. “D-don’t eat it all at once, you g-goof. Are you, um, you alright?” you ask, quietly. It is easy to converse covertly, with Spring starting up a loud conversation on the other side of the two tables.

You catch the monkey giving you a subtle wink.

Gwen scarfs down the other half of her bun and swallows, taking longer than maybe she normally would. While she considers your question, the Sneasel and Scrafty who were on stage before bring a jug of water and a set of bowls and mugs for the guests, laying them out on the table. Gwen waits while the Scrafty pours her a drink, then laps at the water to wash down her overzealous bite.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Gwen Expert (1, 17/8)

“Am okay. More than her to get in my fur.” Licking away the wetness from around her mouth, Gwen leans over to deposit it sloppily on your face. “Good food. Good partner. No one better.” There’s no wavering in her voice or wetness in her eyes that would give you the sense she’s hurt and hiding it. Gwen is a tough girl, but she’s usually honest about her feelings.

“We can talk more about, a-about stuff after, in private,” you gently pat her paw and resist the urge to immediately wipe your face off. It’s not as strong as it used to be, the urge to wipe it away.

Gentle sitar music strummed from stage drifts through the sandstone interior. The Sneasel is back on stage, where his Scrafty gives him a peck on the lips and then picks up a ribbon to add to her dance. Soothed by the sound and feeling mollified that Gwen is not too shaken up, you think it’s time to get down to business.

“So Darcie, Leanne,“ you open up, folding your paws together in front of you on the desk to feel more business-like. Leanne is lazily picking at pieces of her bun, and savoring each slowly by rolling it around on her tongue. Between each bite she flicks the forked appendage out, searching for the nuts and berry pieces embedded inside, which hold most of her attention. Opposite her is Darcie, who is using her tail to pick up the shredded pieces Astra broke up for her, moving them into her mouth like chopsticks on a crane.

Both of them look at you and swallow their mouthfuls. “I want to be very s-straightforward with how my Guild works. We, w-we’re the Hoopa Guild, and our patron is sort of,” your tongue sticks thoughtfully out from your snout. “H-he likes to encourage us to mess around. Like, s-sexually,” oh Lord. It’s not like you’ve been subtle in your flirting, but this more feels like public speaking and it’s a good thing you got that confidence boost earlier to go through with it. “Nobody is forced to do anything if they join! O-obviously. But the Guild Card publicly displays the sort of s-stuff you- that you enjoy. As a d-dirty joke from Hoopa, I think. And I just want to be open with that.”

“Okay,” pulling off a spongy fragment, Leanne squeezes it and rolls it between her leafy digits. “So you guys keep it loose. Sounds like fun.” A smirk plays along her mouth as she wraps her tongue around the piece of bread to pull it inside.

Her counterpart looks a little more nervous about the deal. “It shows on the card? Anyone can see it all?”

Like striking from a coil, Leanne leans forward and sets her head on her hands, long snout jutting over the table. “Oohoohoo,” she gleefully hoots, “You into the weird stuff Darce?”

“No!”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (3, 4/10)

It’s hard to tell if the two actually dislike each other or if this is just how their personalities interact when they’re together. Leanne is making no secret to how much she loves watching Darcie squirm, the broad leaf of her tail slapping the ground behind her stool.

“G-girls. If it makes you uncomfortable Darcie, n-nobody’s pressuring anyone. Okay?” Darcie looks away. Her spiked pincers pull in, then flick out on either side of her face. She picks up another bite and nods her head for you to keep going. “Right.” Mentally, you shuffle your notes and flip the page to the next set of interview questions.  “Are there any things you’d like to do or, n-not do as Guild members? The s-sex stuff or, the other stuff. Would you want to travel or prefer to tend one home garden?”

“I’ve been thinking about seeing the world,“ Leanne answers immediately again, no hesitation in what she wants. “There are two of us so it’s not like I’d be leaving them without a food supply. And,” she raises her nose to the air and brags proudly, “I’m so good at what I do that the extra healthy soil will stick around long after I’m gone.”

Following up the braggart Snivy has left Darcie looking more nervous after the previous question already shattered her armor. She shakes herself, throwing it off, and regains her straightened and serious posture. “I can’t travel as much since a garden takes upkeep. But I do all my own finances and I like to build things in my free time. Do-it-yourself projects.”

“Well, I was going to ask next, w-what you like to do in your free time,” you office laugh and mentally reshuffle again. “I guess you answered that already Darcie, unless you have other hobbies?” Looking down at the table, she considers the grain of the surface and then shakes her head. And most of her body with it.

“I love to try new things. Shania has been showing me a little about how to dance lately,” holding up a leafy frond, Leanne wiggles her fingers at the Scrafty on stage, who swishes her ribbon in Leanne’s direction and blows her a kiss. “What about you, Mr. Guild Leader?” The she-serpent turns it back on you, and you point at the remaining buns on the baking tray.

“I bake!”

Batting her eye at you, Leanne coos, “And you do it so well.” She startles a little when Gwen grunts and looks in her direction.

“Mine.”

Collecting her composure, Leanne leans on one arm and picks up the last piece of her share. “And he’s still yours’ even though Hoopa’s encouraging him to do this open sex stuff right?” She asks, and Gwen snorts in admittance through her nostrils. “I’m not trying to steal your guy. I just like to have fun.”

“Making sure you know.”

“I know now.”

Clicking her mandibles together to get attention back, Darcie relates, “It is a very satisfying thing to look at something and know all your hard work went into it, no?” She locks eyes with you from behind her glossy protectors.

Finally plucking one of the buns from the tray for yourself, you look over the swirls on the surface, admiring the texture and the smell. “Yeah. I get that. You built the fence and lock all yourself?”

“That’s right.”

Conversation on the other side of the table between Spring, Dino and Rusty is winding down. Roxie and Astra have been quietly eating since the whisper between them. When her last bite is finished, Astra hops down from her stool and lands on all fours. “Going outside to get some sun before it’s gone,” she tells Rusty, who tries to give her a thumbs up with his paws as she disappears beneath the saloon doors without touching them, scuttling over the ground in a swaying lizard crawl much more comfortably than you’ve been.

True to Astra’s observation, the sun is dipping outside, painting the long desert sky in a spectrum of pink and orange and yellow. Soon the night’s chill will roll in, but between the inn’s hearth and the minimum of two fire types that are going to be in your Guild’s bed tonight it shouldn’t be a bother.

“So do either of us catch your eye, Champion of Hoopa?” Leanne asks, a flair in her voice and a wave of her arm in the air. “You are still interested, even with the baggage attached, Darcie?”

Tapping her pincers together, Darcie fixes her eyes on the point where they meet and then works up the courage to nod. “Yes. I’d like to be part of a Guild.”

“A Berry supply would be nice for our Guild too, lots of tough Dungeons around here,” Rusty butts in now that he’s free. “Whichever of you are sticking around we’d be happy to have you.”

The moment has come. Rusty is poised to pounce on one of them if you leave the decision hanging. You have four open spots left in your Guild roster. If you decide to recruit Hustle to protect him from the King, that would take up another spot. And you recall he has the skillset to make very good use of the Berries you’d get from a personal gardener.

>Invite Leanne

>Invite Darcie

>Invite Both: Hard Charm required to convince them to leave the oasis without any gardener

>Convince everyone to let you sleep on it: Easy Charm, Rusty considers you a friend and is unlikely to poach on you

After making your decision on recruitment, you still have your evening to plan out.

>Talk to Astra, with or without Roxie

>Talk to Roxie, with or without Astra

>Talk to Gwen

>Talk to someone else

>Other: Suggest activities freely

Chapter Text

>Invite Darcie

Maybe it’s keen instincts, or maybe it’s paranoia, but Leanne seems to be too good to be true. You can imagine all the things she’d do to you in bed, but she seems too… flighty. Something in you clicks with Darcie’s attitude, wanting to leave behind something that she can be proud she built.

Waving Gwen to follow you, you slip out of your chair and go aside to discuss your choice with her in a hushed huddle. “How do you feel a-about Darcie? I like her attitude.”

Your partner nuzzles her head against yours’, forcing you to close one eye as her rough fur runs up against your scales. “She seem like you. Maker. Is sweet.” Receiving the public display of soft affection brings your heart up into your throat.

Not wanting to hold the table in suspense, you let your agile tongue slither between your jaws, a course of human habit wetting your lips in preparation to speak. “I really wish I could take you b-both, but.” One of your paws slides into the group’s bag hanging around Gwen’s neck, but not before giving her an affectionate scritch beneath the chin. Crawling around the table, you stand up next to Darcie’s place at the table and hold up your Guild Card in front of her. “If it’s not too weird, w-would you like to join m-my- I-I mean, our Guild?”

Leanne leans on her hands with a disappointed look and a puff of air, watching Darcie ease one of her pincers towards the card. She hesitates and looks at your face. “Promise not to think I’m too weird, okay?” she asks in a quiet voice. Your reassuring smile and nod of the head give her the nudge she needs to tap her pincer against the card and announce, “I accept.”

As if the ink was splashed against it from the other side and soaked in, Darcie’s image appears alongside your Guild companions.

Oh. Oh yeah, it’s the quiet ones.

The list of her kinks starts to form on the card, running down beneath the available space and continuing out of sight. You can see by some of them why she was hesitant to advertise them. Maybe joining a weird sex cult will be good for her? At least you like to think that yours’ is a nice sex cult. Pressing your claw against her face on the card, you bid it to bring out the full array of her abilities and proclivities.

Her portfolios are sure diverse.

“Well,” Leanne’s voice has a huff to it, and she looks over at Rusty. You get the sense you might have just dropped him in between two very salacious reptiles. “What about you, Jirachi Guild right? Are you planning on traveling much?”

“Oh yeah totally! We can’t spread our fame and win if we just stay around here. But we’ll be using this place as our base of operations. You’ll be able to keep the garden nice and healthy, and see the world!” selling his Guild eagerly, Rusty puffs up his furry chest ruff. “And we’re gonna win. No hard feelings when we do, Murdoch. I plan to let all the contestants get their wishes!”

Light, leafy fingers drum against Leanne’s chin. “Wishes for everyone? I couldn’t turn down such a noble mission. I’m yours’ if you’ll have me.” Her tongue flicks out suggestively, and Rusty’s ears burn red. He quickly nods at Dino, who pulls out their Guild Card and brings it over to her. Leanne places her frond upon it, sealing the deal.

After waiting for their exchange, Darce taps the table a couple times to get Leanne’s attention. “Would you mind taking over care of my garden when I go? I’ll only take a few of the Berries with me for my share, since they are for everybody.”

“I’m not just going to let the poor things wither without you,” Leanne waves her hand as if it were never a question. “Good luck with your new Guild.” Painting her face with a smug smirk she echoes her new leader, “And no hard feelings when we win.”

“You’re on,” Darcie answers, her eyes fiery as she locks them with Leanne’s cool, confident countenance across the table. Smiling in approval, you take back your seat and quickly scarf down your bun.

Thinking of going after Astra to talk, you take a look out the windows. Outside the Stargazer, the sun has fallen behind the horizon. The last dark pinks stretch out from the world’s edge to draw the blanket of night over the sky, pinpricks of stars emerging on the clear and cloudless eve. The inn’s namesake is clear to you now, for in the flat desert you can see the sky clearly for miles. No trees nor tall grasses nor mountains and towers to block out the view.

A small pin prods you lightly on the shin and you swiftly turn your head to find Darcie standing next to your chair. “Did I startle you? My mistake. I should go and pack. Do you want me to stay with your Guild at the inn tonight?”

“W-where do you normally stay?”

Her pincers spread outwards and then click together in front of her. She did that earlier, and you think it’s like a shrug. “I like to burrow in a sand pile in my garden, under some leaves. Sleep outside. The sun is a natural wakeup call.”

You rub your claws together and look at Spring and then at Gwen. Sexually, you’re pretty worn out already. “I don’t know if there’s going to be ‘f-funny business’ tonight so, i-if you’re comfortable with it you can stay with us and, we can get comfortable together. Or not. It’s, it’s really up to you.”

Darcie sticks her pincers into her mouth and runs them along her mandibles with a sound like knives gliding against each other. Sort of like chewing her lip? “Okay. I’ll be there.”

After she skitters outside, you look at Rusty who has rested his head on the table and looks sleepy. “I guess we n-never actually did do the bet thing where you feed us. Kind of- of got distracted making it into a Guild social event,” you admit. His ears perk up and his eyes flutter back open.

“Oh shoot, we did forget, didn’t we?”

Spring flicks one of his ears. “You’ll just have to owe us one another time. I enjoyed our get together anyways,” she leans back and stretches her arms out, fanged mouth opening wide in an exaggerated yawn that quickly travels around the table. “I’m just about ready for bed. What about you two?”

“Yes. Going to sleep.” After her jaws snap back shut from yawning, Gwen climbs down to the floor. It sounds like you were right in assuming there’d be nothing exciting happening tonight. It’s been a long and exciting enough day.

“I j-just want to do one thing first,” twiddling your claws together, you wonder whether it’s better to tell Gwen or Spring where you’re going. You don’t want to bother Gwen or make her worry any more, but it feels wrong not to tell her. “I’m going to go talk to Astra.” Gwen turns around and her ear twitches, a little pout at the corner of her mouth. You hold up your hands and wave them a little. “Just want to clear the air and, I’ll m-make sure she doesn’t try and mess with your head again.”

“My head fine,” Gwen tells you matter-of-factly. “If you think is best.” She furrows her brow. “But not go alone. Salandit bitch try something funny.”

With a series of bunny hops, Roxie places herself near the door. “She won’t try anything. I mean, if she does I’ll stop her. But I don’t think she would.” The rabbit-like bulbs on her head swivel up and down and her piercing yellow eyes find yours’. “I was going to talk to her anyways.”

After Gwen and Spring both give assent, you join Roxie at the swinging wooden doors. A chilly night breeze flows in from outside, running down your back and making you shiver.

The metal tray behind you scrapes against the table as Dino pulls it off, careful not to knock off any of the cups. There aren’t any buns left after the shared feast. “We’ll take care of the dishes so don’t worry about it,” he tells the Scrafty and Sneasel servers when they start to set down their performance. “It’ll be us making up for the forgotten bet thing.”

“Good night,” Leanne wiggles her fingers at you on the way out.

Finding Astra doesn’t take long. With the sun fallen down, she was already on her way back from the outskirts of the outpost, and whatever sunny rock she had found to brood on. Crescents of purple stare out at you intensely. No flames brew in her nostrils or ignite tantalizing incense from the base of her tail, so she doesn’t strike you as angry. Just… intense.

“Astra,” Roxie opens up, “I think we might owe him an explanation after what happened in there. Well, we owe her an explanation. But he’s the one here.” Cleverly, she avoids using ‘you’ language to avoid being accusing. It’s a little trick your dad’s company used with their PR and HR departments too.

Raising her snout in indignation anyways, Astra flicks her tongue out. “Why? She overreacted.”

>Murdoch Charm: Dependent, Roxie Helping (17)

>Astra Will: Advantage, Hard Subject, Rivalry (15, 16)

Without the girls at your side to support you, you feel a bit less confident in yourself. But swallowing down your hesitance, you step forward. “It seemed to me l-like there was another m-meaning to what you said. Were you offering to, uhm, help Gwen somehow with e-eggs?”

At first, your suggestion makes her temper flare up. Astra’s teeth show and flicker with purple flames. You tense up, ready to jump to the side, finding your combat reflexes more keenly honed after training with Gwen. But she lets it dissipate in a puff of smoke and deflates. “No.” Astra catches Roxie looking at her and spinning her spiny hands for Astra to keep going. The other Salandit rolls her eyes. “I was trying to- relate.”

“R-relate?”

Astra scratches at the side of her mouth. “To her.” Her voice, tough and smooth, is more well-spoken than Gwen but she speaks just as shortly. “I have wanted eggs, my mates have wanted them. I cannot get them no matter how much I try. So they leave.” The toughness cracks for only a second as she hangs on the last word, then she builds up her wall again.

“She’s been volunteering as a Guild Partner candidate,” Roxie explains, only continuing when Astra doesn’t object to saying more. “For two competitions now. But she got passed over both times.”

“Until Rusty,” you observe.

“No, actually. Dino is his chosen Partner.” Wearing a playful grin, Roxie places a hand on her ‘hip’ and winks. “Rusty doesn’t like to tell this story but he and Dino wiped on their first mission. Astra and I rescued them and they recruited us after that.”

You’re starting to get the picture of her situation. Not sure how you feel about it yet, but it's becoming clearer. “Astra hopes one of the Guild’s prize favors from winning can let her h-have eggs? Or, maybe Rusty c-can wish it?”

“Do not tell Rusty right now,” Astra cuts your idea off.

“He’s a good guy, he’s not going to freak out or think you have ulterior motives,” Roxie insists, waving her hands at her lizard friend who only grumbles more.

“No. I want to tell him myself. When his wishes are stronger. Do not want to try and be disappointed by it when it fails,” brushing past the two of you, though careful of Roxie’s lower thorns, Astra trots back towards the inn. “I’m going to bed.”

Grabbing hold of the petals of her ears, Roxie lightly tugs them down and makes an exaggerated “agh,” then laughs it off and pats her hips. “She’s rough to deal with sometimes, sorry. She really didn’t mean poorly, she’s just a battering ram in a lot of ways.”

You take a breath and find yourself yawning again. “Ah. Alright, I- I’m going to go to bed too. Thanks for offering to help me c-clear the air.” When you turn to wave at Roxie, you see she’s following you and remember her Guild is probably staying here too.

One short trip back inside and to the room, you find Gwen and Spring curled up together in the bed and sleeping. Somehow Spring managed to be big spoon. Knowing Darcie is on her way, you take a seat and wait for her. The expected clicking of her needle-like stingers on the door comes and you let her inside.

Darcie comes in carrying a bag hung on her tail, which she sets in front of you. Inside of it you find she’s brought a Lum Berry, an Iapapa Berry, an Apicot Berry, a Chesto Berry, and a Pecha Berry. “I tried to choose a helpful selection.”

“L-looks great!”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (10, 9/8) (17, 14/8) (18, 11/8)

You take note of the Berries, and what they can do, adding them to your mental Inventory tally.

Too late to be worrying about introducing Victor. You send him a mental note to look into garden space for Darcie and ask Amor about supplies, then wish him good night. You curl up facing Gwen and take hold of her paw, which she curls around your fingers in turn.

Hesitantly, Darcie crawls onto the packed bed behind you. “Do you mind if I…?” You shake your head, eyes drooping closed. She twists around onto her side and locks her four legs around your sides, latching onto your back in an imitation of Spring spooning Gwen. Her chitin is cool to the touch, and feels smooth and hard.

 It doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

>Murdoch has indulged in fetishes using Hoopa’s Collar today and leveled up!

>Murdoch can learn the move Toxic!

>Toxic (Power): Poisons the target, requiring two doses of curative to remove. Accuracy Advantage for Poison Type users.

>Murdoch already knows four moves. Delete a move to learn Toxic?

>Gwen has indulged in fetishes using Hoopa’s Collar today and leveled up!

>Gwen has chosen not to forget a move to learn Roar. Roar is now available to Gwen for retraining.

>Plans for tomorrow morning?

Chapter Text

Sleep is clingy come morning. The heat of the desert sun outside soaks into the sandstone walls, slowly turning the room into a perfectly comfortable lair of a volcanic lizard such as yourself. The hay bedding beneath your snout is damp with Gwen’s slobber as she breathes out the heat in her sleep just inches away from you, along with the lingering smell of peanuts and Pecha from last night. Her paw, held cupped between your forepaws, is moist from the perspiration of her pads.

It's not the only thing moist this morning. A wetness presses against the small of your back, the hot markings on the dorsal base of your tail. You can feel Darce behind you, rubbing the underside of hers’ up against the stinging hot surface. At least, you think she’s still asleep. Her profile said she’s a heavy sleeper, and you can faintly hear her muttering behind your head.

Spring is staring at you over Gwen’s shoulder, with the occasional lazy blink. She runs her finger softly down Gwen’s side, stroking the canine’s thick fur aside to brush her fingers over the soft skin underneath.

“We should probably them get up,” she whispers.

“Probably.”

>Murdoch Will: Dependent, Pushover (7/14)

>Spring Will: Disadvantage (2, 19/10)

Completely in agreement, the two of you continue to stare into one another’s eyes. Watching Spring’s fingers run up and down makes your eyes feel heavy again, and you begin rubbing softly at Gwen’s paws in the same motion.

>Gwen Will: (6/10)

>Darcie Will: Advantage, Hot Lizard Butt, Heavy Sleeper (4, 9/10)

The gentle ministrations are not enough to rouse the sleeping beauty, who blissfully continues to drool on the mat in her sleep. Nor is grinding up against you bringing Darcie out of unconsciousness.

It couldn’t hurt to just enjoy this for five more minutes…

>Three hours later

While drifting in and out of the mists of slumber, suddenly your eyes flutter wide open and awake. It’s one of those freak moments where your body goes from zero to one hundred in an instant, like your alarm clock just went off in some other you’s bedroom and the echoes hit you.

Or just your brain firing off an old course of habit from an old work schedule.

Either way, you kick up out of bed, which jostles Gwen into blinking awake. Spring moans into her friend’s neck ruff when Gwen starts to sit up and yawn. Darcie moans into the open air, flopped onto her back after you pulled away. Her underside is covered in smooth plates and the moving parts from the underside of her legs. Beneath her tail is a glistening entrance, puffy and red after being pressed up against the hottest part of you all night long and then some.

>Darcie has a Burn

Rubbing your eyes, you cast aside the dirty thoughts flooding in. She might be horny for messing around while asleep, but that’s something to get permission about the night before, not spring on her for her first day.

And there’s a job to do.

With your claws set just above her forelegs, you shake her until she twitches awake, sharp little legs flailing in the air. “Huh? Wha, where am I?” the confused Skorupi spins around and gets her bearings after she realizes she’s upside down and rights herself using her tail. Darcie locks eyes with you and then with Gwen, who is sitting up beside you now and rubbing the top of her head against your side. You lean into Gwen and nuzzle her back, while Darcie figures things out. “Right, I joined a Guild. Hoopa’s Guild. Sorry, I’m not used to sleeping inside, it startled me.”

“It’s okay. How about we go g-get breakf- aast, hold on,” you turn around to find Spring, who is still sprawled out ass up on the bed. “Spring. Everyone else is up, come on,” with paws on your hips, you nag.

“Already last place, why try harder,” she mumbles into the mat.

Sticking out the tip of your tongue, you lean forward and smack her cheeks like bongo drums, playing the familiar tune to your alarm clock. Spring cracks open one eye and looks at you half-lidded. “If yer trying to make me get up to smack yoOOOUUCH!” Like a startled cat, Spring jumps up into the air and kicks out with one leg, smacking Gwen in the face- who just came in and nipped one of Spring’s ass cheeks.

When she scrambles to her feet, rubbing her butt, Spring glares at an innocent looking Gwen, who flicks her ear. “Dumb mutt.”

“Lazy monkey.”

“Actual ass muncher.”

“Can kick it too.”

“That your way of asking for a rematch?”

The two of them go back and forth while walking out of the room and into the hall. You look over your shoulder at Darcie, who is lagging behind and lifting up her backside as she awkwardly walks forward. She tries standing on the two legs of one side to peer down under her own belly. “Oo. What did that.”

Reaching back, you pat your lower back. “You got a l-little bit excited last night. Do you need any um, h-help? We have a Rawst Berry.”

She runs one of her pincers along the sharp, white part of her mandible, making a shing-shing. “Mmaybe later. Yeah, before we go. It’s a little hard to walk like this. Actually, I can get one. Not your fault, I pretty much asked for this.“ She doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to treat her Burn, aside from the practical problems. If she likes the feeling of intense sensations, you wonder if she’d like to meet your old friend Percy. You walk slowly with her while the other girls are up ahead.

“I’m curious how you ended up with s-such a, um, report card,” you broach along the way, passing the other rooms and into the common area of the inn.

Her tail stingers snip together gleefully. “It’s in my garden. I can show you after we eat if you want.”

The musician is already on stage strumming a tune, but their dancer is serving Gwen and Spring a big omelette flavored with Occa berries, and bowls of- your nose tells you- apple juice.

“W-what do we owe you? Or is breakfast in-included?” you ask Roman, the Nidoking, at the counter while you take a seat and cut off a helping onto a plate for yourself, and one for your digit-impaired new companion. Spring already helped Gwen out with her plate, which she is messily digging into.

“Occa Berries come included, anybody traveling into the desert wants some anyways. Thanks for those by the way,” he toasts an empty cup he’s cleaning at Darcie, who is shuffling on her seat and rubbing against it. She looks up at him and taps a pincer against her forehead in return, then eviscerates a piece of omelette with her tail and stuffs it in her mouth. Roman continues what he was saying, “The omelette was a special touch from Rusty’s crew. Called it a consolation prize from the early birds.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Impossibly Hard, Slept In, Luck Assistance (13, 18/18)

At breakfast, the remnants of strange dreams sift back and forth between your ears. A voice you half-remember spoke about kings, flowers, and something about paper. It felt important, and some parts were clearer after drifting back into sleep. A name reaches out and grabs at you over and over, but you can’t put a finger on it until you catch a bit of dust in your nose.

Heaving in a breath, you sneeze, releasing a little flash of embers that settle upon the tabletop and die. Spring giggles and offers a “bless you.”

And then it hits you, as wires cross inside of your brain and the stars align. Signals all going off at the same moment send a spark along the space where the pathways intersect, layers of incidental knowledge meeting upon the crossroads.

A report you wrote in high school about vigilantism, in which you had to take a stance on whether or not it is right to take the law into one’s own hands.. Twenty-five years ago. A grieving father invaded the home of a rich young man, who disappeared along with his Pokemon. The father confessed to murdering the man, who he believed had killed his daughter. But he never told anyone where the body was.

Your sneeze. Immediately your claw goes searching for something to wipe your nose. It sends your mind into the lists of brand names floating around in memories of countless television and internet adverts. Kleansoft, a tissue and toilet paper company. The Fortune 500 CEO you saw in videos during your research, bemoaning the loss of his son and asking anyone who could find the remains to come forward for a stiff cash reward.

The name just on the tip of your tongue finally comes to you. Florence King.

The moment of connection passes, and you finally take a second bite of your breakfast omelette. The knowledge leaves a bizarre sensation lingering in your mind. Not bad enough to be a headache, but it feels like- like.

Of all the weird comparisons, your horny lizard brain tells you that it feels like soreness after anal sex, and horny lizard brain sounds pretty certain. Not literally, but- it feels like psychic stuff you don’t understand.

Filing this new knowledge away for when you’re only among the ears of your teammates, you strike up some conversation about what to do next. “We’re planning to g-go after an outlaw somewhere in the desert. W-what do you suggest we pack?” you ask Darcie.

“Water,” she replies with the obvious, first. “There’s a stall underground that lends out bottles. You can return them within three days to get your deposit of 10 Poke back. Make sure you bring food, too. I’d recommend Occa if we didn’t already have that.”

“Apples are 10 Poke a pop and very filling. We’ve got four left in stock,” Roman offers from the bar.

You trace a claw along the grain of the table, tallying some costs in your head. “Spring? Is it possible for someone t-to t-transfer Guilds after joining?”

“Of course. You can quit, transfer, get booted,” waving her utensil in the air, Spring smirks. “Why? Don’t like the new girl already?” she teases. It’s tough to tell if Darcie registered the tease or not when she looks up at you with puppy bug eyes.

“No, n-no. Darcie’s great. I’m just thinking ahead about the, you know, the mission.” Spring nods her head.

“Thought so.”

“Actually, w-we still need to introduce you to our other Guild member,” you hold out one of your palms and offer it to her. When she looks at you cluelessly, you explain, “He’s t-telepathic. We can contact him with our minds.”

Getting the gist of the idea, Darcie places one of her pincers in your palm and you wrap around it, eyes closed and mind focused.

>Murdoch Will: Supported (11/8)

~Victor?~ You can feel something on the other end, connecting to you. It feels warm and pleasant.

~That’s my name,~ the bat boy answers. His mental voice feels comfortable and relaxed, and you sense a feeling of wetness around him. He must be taking a bath in the hot springs.

~We have a new member! D-do you want to talk to her?~

~Are you going to make me cum again?~

~O-only if you want to.~

His keening giggle echoes through the telepathic bond. ~Sure, I can talk to her. By the way, I meant to tell you last night. Larissa actually sent some of her Guild members abroad to trade and sell craftwork. She said they’ll be stopping out where you are, either today or tomorrow!~ That’s great news! It saves you a trip to go see her and hammer out the details of the construction you want done.

~Wait, L-larissa is going traveling to sell wares? Shut-in Larissa?~

~No, she’s definitely staying home to hold down the fort. Is the new team member the one holding your hand? I’ll try to contact her.~

>Victor Will: Advantage (8, 16/10)

Shortly after, you feel a distinct sensation of discomfort bleed over into your crotch through a tingling connection in your palm. Victor fidgets as well, on the other end. ~Murdoch I think our new Guild member has a venereal disease.~

~I do not! It’s just a burn!~ Darcie’s mental voice objects, feeling as sharp and clear as she looks.

~How did you burn that?~ Images of your lower back flash into view. ~Oh.~

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage (10, 4/10)

~Are you… are you enjoying it?~ Victor asks, feeling bemused.

~Is this an introduction or twenty questions? I’m Darcie, or Darce if you prefer.~

~Sorry. I’m Victor, the team coordinator!~

Both of them twitch and Darcie jumps in her seat, when you activate your fingers still clasping her claw in your own. The feedback makes your own palm tingle pleasurably, and it loops intensely back and forth. “Holy. What is that?” she asks, out loud, amazed by the sensation. “Is that a psychic thing?”

~No, it’s Murdoch’s favorite trick. He can make anything he touches into an erogenous zone, like this.~

~I want you carnally,~ Darce’s thoughts bluntly betray her. “I mean, not now. It can be now… sometime. Excuse me, I will be right back.” Pulling away from your grasp, Darcie stuffs the last of her omelette into her mouth and scuttles to the bar counter. She swallows the egg bundle in one go and requests, “One Rawst Berry.” She pays with her own money and Roman hands her one, which she holds between her pincers and retreats into another room with. You suspect she’s about to have that berry carnally.

~On that note,~ you can feel the sensations of the water flowing over Victor’s skin and running between the strands of his fur as he raises out of the warmth. The chill of the steppe air makes you shiver. He straddles someone else, and you can feel the touch of wet feathers. Victor tells someone to say hello, and you can make out the distant sensation of someone whispering “hello” softly into Victor’s big ears.

~My boyfriend says hello,~ Victor helpfully relays to you. ~We’re looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you guys, but I’m doing good.~ To punctuate the emotional warmth coming through in his mental voice, Victor slides down onto something hard, while another something brushes against his fuzzy balls and stomach. The hard something hits a very nice feeling something inside of the bat boy’s behind, and you feel yourself twitch to attention under your kilt. ~And this is payback for last time.~

>Boris Lewd: (12)

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Aftereffects (5, 13)

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fingers Aftereffects (0, 8)

It doesn’t take long for Victor’s antics on the other end to push you over the edge. In a shocking display of irony, you squeeze your legs together to keep from squirting everywhere under the table and blow your load hands free just from the sensations. This in turn sets Victor off, making him quickshot from your quickshot. The mental connection goes fuzzy during the shared orgasm as his concentration falters, and then you feel an unexpected twinge of pain in your forehead.

Gwen and Spring are both looking at you now. The scent of what just happened is obvious to both of the so close by, but your pained expression is also obvious.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (6, 10/10)

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage (5, 20/10)

This spontaneous telepathic sex is enough to make that soreness from earlier blossom into a real headache. Victor slows down and stops, and you hear him apologizing to Boris for the stopping, because something is wrong.

~Murdoch? I felt that.~ Immediate concern is present in his voice, which is enough to make you worry. ~It feels like the result of a powerful psychic intrusion.~

~W-what’s that mean?~ the girls try to talk to you, but you shake your head and hold up your hands. It’s taking a lot of concentration just to keep the telepathic link open and focus on what Victor is saying at the same time.

~It means something forced its way into your head and left that feeling you’re getting. I almost missed it too- I wouldn’t have even noticed if not for… Murdoch, this is serious. I need to see you in person and look at this as soon as possible and see what they tampered with.~

Your heart is pounding hard in your chest. “Okay.” ~Okay. V- Victor, I’ll see you, I’ll see you as soon as I can. I need to- to shut this off, my head is k-killing me.~ Closing your eyes to shut out flashes of color across your vision, you hold your head and break off the connection with Victor.

“..rdoch?” Gwen is asking your name, concerned. “What happen?”

“I was psychically a-attacked or s-something last night. Victor detected it, but not before we accidentally gave me a m-migraine,” you look down at your stained kilt. “And that.” Gwen rankles at the implication and bares her teeth in a vicious snarl.

“Who did this?”

“Are there any psychics in the outpost?” Spring asks Roman, getting out of her chair. He looks between her and you, and sets down the cup he’d been continually cleaning for show.

“No. There’s a Banette in the underground, that’s the next closest thing.”

“Victor said- he said he c-can take a look at me when we see each other again.” Struggling wobblily out of your chair, you are helped along by Gwen who tucks herself under your arm. “I need to g-get cleaned up. Again.” The girls get a bucket of cleaning water from Roman and take you back to the room. There, the three of you find Darcie on her back and squeezing the juices of the Rawst Berry onto her red hole while rubbing the berry’s surface against it using her tail’s graspers. She looks up in surprise when the door opens, but nobody has time to stare back at her as the girls help you into a seated position.

“What happened?”

“Some psychic messed with his head last night, he’s got a nasty headache now,” Spring explains to the new girl, who gets up and comes over.

“Rawst Berries are natural painkillers,” the gardener points out. She looks up at the mashed up one she was using on herself and adds, “Not that I’m suggesting you eat this one… not that I’m saying you can’t, if you want to.”

“What d-did you two find out about H- h- the guy yesterday?” you ask Gwen and Spring. With all the excitement they never got to give their reports.

“Oh, yeah. Rene didn’t see any signs of a Zigzagoon around.”

“Tower magnet see,” Gwen reports, a worried whine in her voice. “Avoid town. Wander to desert.” So he’s probably lost out there somewhere, dehydrated and starving. Great. Maybe the girls can pick up a trail.

Once you get washed up and deal with this killer migraine, there’s a lot to do before you leave town and it’s already later than you meant to leave. You can bring Darcie to look for Hustle, or leave her at the outpost.

>Use your Rawst Berry

>Use Darcie’s Rawst Berry, she will continue to have a minor Burn but probably won’t care

>Endure the torment

You can take care of tasks yourself, as a group, or delegate to team members.

>Buy Apples or other Berry supplies, the gardens give the outpost a good selection, most are worth 10 Poke unless very rare

>Get bottles and water

>Go and see the Banette

>See Darcie’s special spot

Chapter Text

Forcing on a pained smile, you reach out and pluck the smushed and gooey Berry from between Darcie’s stingers and look her in the eyes while placing it in your mouth. She giggles quietly, and Spring smirks at the look on your face when the bitter Berry juice hits your tongue. Suddenly, you are reminded why you never eat these things and they dump cups of sugar into the stuff sold in stores. It doesn’t taste as bad as it used to, maybe it’s your imagination or- maybe Poison types just handle bitterness better?

“Nowhere m-my mouth won’t be eventually, r-right?” you joke lewdly, while Spring helps you lie down in the bed. Darcie rapidly clicks her pincers against her mandibles.

Effects of the medicine kick in quickly, as with most Berries. The debilitating pain that accompanies the throbbing sensation starts to fade. Only the irritating hypersensitivity and the colors that dance at the edges of objects remain. You look up at Gwen and Spring both looking down at you, the pair surrounded by a pulsing aura that makes you unsettlingly aware of the pulsing of your own veins. Even clearer now that the distracting pain is gone, in fact. A melding swirl of reds, blues and purples swish and sway between them like waves on a lake.

“Leave supplies to us,” Gwen places her paw softly on your chest, snapping you out of your reverie. You wrap your fingers around it. “Mission too. ..?” What starts as an order trails off into a question, and she looks to you for your own thoughts on the matter.

“I’m going. I’ll be okay, feeling better already,” the numbing sensation makes the world feel slower, and your tongue feels heavier. Your words come out like slowly dribbling syrup, but your nervous stutter doesn’t rear its head.

“What about you, Darce?” hand resting casually on her hip now that you’re looking better, Spring eyes Darcie up and down. “Feel like coming along? Heh, maybe you’ll even enjoy combat.”

“Maybe too much,” Gwen voices concern.

“Hey. It’s not that I like being injured, or want to be hurt, exactly,” Darcie answers hesitantly, still looking nervous about discussing her ‘condition.’ “Don’t worry. I guarantee that I will not go crazy and jump in front of attacks. My self-preservation works just fine.” Crawling around to the other side of the bed, she leans on the straw mat. “What is it this mission is about?”

Gwen and Spring look at each other, then to you. Darcie is a Guild member now, after all. “We need to find an outlaw from Tallspire,” you explain, “Before anybody else. We think he’s innocent.”

Fidgeting with the edge of the mat, Darcie bobs her head. “Then yes, I want to come. We are a team now, right? If I’m here, it feels wrong not to help.” With a huff of approval, Gwen inclines her head towards the newest member.

“It’s settled,” beginning to clap her hands, Spring stops when Gwen nudges her and juts her chin at you. “Right, loud noises. Sorry,” she drops her hands to her side instead. “It’s settled. Gwennie bean, you and I have shopping to do.”

>Shopping list: 2 Rawst, 2 Occa, 4 Apples, 3 Water Bottles

>Cost: 110 Poke

After a conference with the girls, you formulate a list of supplies. The apples should last first stages like yourselves for two days rationed, and you have plenty of Berries to fall back on as well as the leftovers of Percy’s bread, now a little dry. Spring thinks the Guild can make do with just two bottles of water, and the much smaller flasks you normally use, but Gwen insists on taking four just to be safe. The two compromise on three. Each of them and Darcie can carry one, and they estimate you probably can’t.

You might feel more offended if you weren’t floored right now. A long canine tongue drags over your cheek, leaving it wet. “Be back.” As she pulls away, you retrieve the other Rawst Berry from the bag around her neck.

“And Gwen,” you grab the loop of her bag as she starts to pull away. “It… it didn’t feel like an attack. More like a dream. Then I was messing around with Victor and, I pulled some psychic muscle by accident. Pulled my brain,” you ramble, patting her on the chin. “So don’t be mad at anyone or yell at the Banette or nothing like that, okay?” Gwen twitches her nose and nuzzles you with its cool surface, then nods her head and walks to the door.

“I can stay and watch him,” Darcie volunteers. Spring reaches down and pats her on the head, then turns on a heel to leave.

“Make sure not to take too long. With fighting and stuff. Don’t want Hustle to die out in the desert if we’re too slow…” you mumble after her in concern, but Spring shrugs it off.

“He’s not that old,” she comments, before closing the door behind them.

Reaching up, you take Hoopa’s golden hoop off of your neck. “Are you still feeling a little pent up Darcie?” you notice her fidgeting still, picking at the mattress and pressing her underside against the floor.

“Am I that obvious?”

You nod and hold out the collar, which she looks at with a cocked head. “If you put this on, it’ll make you stronger. Like training. But when you indulge your kinks.” Seeing strange things sent by higher powers is nothing new around here, so she lets you loop the collar on past the bulbs on either side of her head. Then, you hold up the intact Rawst, dangling it between your fingers. “Want to finish what you were doing?”

Her unblinking eyes light up. “Really? I thought you wanted mine to save money.” You just lick your lips at her, and cringe when another jolt of bitterness runs over your tongue. Darcie giggles again, keeping herself quiet for your headache. “We are in a hurry. That thing you did with your fingers, do you think you could help me finish with that?”

“Sure. Then I’ll treat the burns. Aftercare is important.”

>Darcie Lewd: Masochism, Burn, Pent Up (3)

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Finger Advantage (4)

Darcie lies next to you in the bed, on her back. When you make a turning motion at her, she scooches around so her cooch is closer to you. At a closer look, it reminds you of a reptilian Pokemon’s, a horizontal slit at the base of Darcie’s tail containing each of her private tubes. Unlike those, she has little flagellum-like hairs that ring the entrance. The fleshy edges where her tough shell ends are still a little red, but the swelling from the burn has gone down.

“You said it’s not about being hurt. If you don’t mind, what is it about?” you ask idly, while you reach out and feel the edge with a single finger. The tiny flagella get longer and some wrap around your fingertip, urging it to press against her fleshy parts harder. Darcie lets out a gasp, a blend of moan and wince. Her tailtips click together rapidly when you start to switch your fingers on and off, sending alternating waves of stinging and tingling through her nether regions.

“This is about feeling,” she hisses through the storm of sensation. “Ck-ck-ck, yes! Keep going!” Her little, pointy legs kick in the air excitedly, and you feel the flagella tighten around your finger, hold, then go slack. Darcie’s tail uncurls and flops to the floor, looking relaxed. Even your inexperienced fingering was enough to get her off. “Ah. Yeah. Much better.”

It’s also worth notice that her hole is a little dry, and not just from the burns. It doesn’t look like it lubricates naturally. Any penetrative play is going to call for lube, a fact you file for later. She starts talking again, picking up the thought that was cut off by her orgasm, “My shell makes touch very muted. I like when I can just feel something. Some small scratches, burning sensations sometimes. With spices and not actual fire,” she adds, then trails off with, “Eating or otherwise…”

You chuckle uneasily at the thought. “That explains accidentally humping my ‘spicy’ back in your sleep. Wouldn’t the capsaicin stick around for a long time though? And I’d be worried about doing nerve damage down there. Mm, maybe we shouldn’t do that back humping again, actually?”

The worries don’t faze her much. Her pincers flick out in a shrug. “Damage? You might be surprised how durable I am,” Darcie reassures. “The inside is thick and the outside is made to crawl over the hot desert sand all day. Some irritation, some sand getting inside, no problem.”

Now that Darcie is feeling less distracted, you cut open part of the Rawst Berry and start running the cool, soothing liquid over her burns. She will need washing after it soaks in to make sure no strange infections start growing in there from the dried-up fruit juice. Claims of a spectacularly durable egg hole or no. “You seemed to be liking this earlier, and the spice talk… are you sure you’re not into food play?”

“Uh, not really. The rough surface felt nice,” Darce muses back. “I might play with Berries but it’s not about being food. It’s the other things they do. And easy access.”

Once the redness from the burn has gone completely, you eat the husk of the Rawst Berry to give yourself a little more relief and get up to fetch the cleaning bucket. Moving feels disorienting in an abstract way, like your body is moving and all of your sensations are drifting into the space you just were on a fraction of a second’s delay. It’s dizzying. But you manage to bring the bucket over and sit next to Darcie to wash her up with a cloth. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you,” she complains half-heartedly.

Her body is surrounded by a swaying pattern of yellow, like the petals of a sunflower. You blink and break free of the mesmerisation with some more lewd small talk. “Have you ever tried tickling?”

“What, through this shell?” she answers in a deadpan scoff. “Good luck.” After a second she asks, “Is it like your finger thing?”

“A little!” With a finger tapping the side of your head you inform her smugly, “I know a guy who can put that to the test for you.”

“Really? If you say so I’ll try it.” You finish gently washing her out and place the cloth back in the bucket, while she watches you upsidedown. “I find you easy to talk to. You seem so comfortable with who you are.”

Still sitting up on the bed, you play with your hands. A gentle white light drifts behind your arms and fingers whenever you move them, a display dazzling to watch. “It’s thanks to Gwen and Spring. I feel confident and happy with myself for the first time in years.” Waves of feelings come at you and hit hard, harder somehow in your dopey state. Blue currents run through the white sheen and you blink away a few tears from the edges of your eyes. “Ah, and thanks to Hoopa too, I guess. Was mad at him when he first dropped me here, but…”

Reaching out, you nudge Darcie playfully in the side. “Hopefully we can do the same for you.” The not so little bug’s tail wiggles and she rubs and clicks her mandibles, as you lie down on the bed and wait for the others to get back.

Sleep drifts in and out through your head. At some point you remember Darcie helping you drink some water. When the door opens, you blearily look up and see Spring and Gwen return. “We’re home,” your spunky fire monkey announces, snapping her fingers. “Wake up sleepyheads.” Over her shoulder on two leather straps are two bottles, each effectively the size of her torso. You blink your eyes and boggle at them in amazement. Each has a glass lid on a hinge to stopper it shut, with some kind of material to make a seal. Probably a kind of rubber.

“Wow, when they said bottles they meant… big ones.”

Gwen is carrying one too. She’s adjusted the position of the item bag to one side, and hung her bottle from the other, like saddlebags. Spring unslings one of hers’ and sets it next to Darcie. “Think you’ll be able to carry it?” Flipping upright using her tail, Darcie pulls the strap on and steadies the bottle on her back.

“I’m good,” she confirms.

“Good. They look so big because we’re only first stage,” Spring adjusts strap to a more comfortable location now, and glances aside as you get up from the bed. “They’ll look a lot smaller after we evolve a time or two.”

With Darcie using her tail as a support to help you steady yourself, you step away and try walking on your own around the room. Gwen walks beside you in case you teeter and fall, but you feel stable. Getting used to the psychic lag you’re experiencing. Good enough to walk, at least. Going on all fours helps. “Okay. Anything else we need?”

“Map,” grunts Gwen beside you. “Was one in look tower. Magnemite have. We go look.”

Everyone files out while Spring opens the door. Gwen lets her rival take the lead of the group, content to stay at the rear with your slower self. Darcie walks in the middle, at Spring’s heel. You let them leave the inn ahead of you and sidetrack to the bar where Roman is tending. A Meganium is eating a fluffy breakfast pastry at the counter, with one of the stools pushed aside.

“Where’s Rusty?” you ask, thinking about leaving word with him about Larissa’s Guild being on their way. Resting his bulky arms on the smooth surface of the bar, Roman tips his head towards a bulletin board next to the bar. All around him is an outline of pale yellow, like filtered sunlight.

“Went out on a job.”

Following his look, you check the board and see a wanted poster up for Hustle. The original reward has increased to 1000 Poke. It looks like the King really, really wants this guy. “This one?” you point it out on the board and Roman nods his head. “Fff. Do you have any paper I can use to leave a note?”

Roman produces paper and a charcoal pencil from under the bar. You write to Larissa’s Guild letting her know you’ll be back soon and want to meet with them while they’re here. Then, you hand it back to Roman. “If a Cutiefly or a Morgrem comes through with a Guild, can you give this to them?”

“Think I can do that,” he sets the note back under the counter. “Good luck out there, kid.”

“Thanks!” Setting a hand on Gwen’s back, you walk quickly with her to catch up with Spring and Darcie. She nudges the saloon door open with her head and your clawed feet sink back into the pleasantly warm desert ground.

With Gwen’s assistance, you climb up the stairs into the watchtower. It contains a simple, old fashioned telescope on a stand and a table with some drawers in it. There’s a wooden cup of juice on the table, from which you smell the strong acidic scent of Wacan Berries. A map is laid out next to it, and Spring is standing to the side to allow you to step in with Gwen. Darcie is using her tail to lift herself up and peer over the edge of the desk.

The tower’s occupant, a Magnemite, is looking over Spring’s shoulder. Their magnets rotate while they float in the air with no visible effort. “BZZT. Suspect direction north at time of detection,” the Magnemite is speaking to Spring when you step inside, in a monotone voice that sounds synthetic with no discernible male or female qualities. At the beginning of their speech, they produce a buzzing static like a walkie-talkie, and the screws in their body vibrate.

Using her finger, Spring points out the outpost on the map. It’s on the eastern edge of the desert, the only road in. No other permanent outposts have been established deeper inside, because of a lack of water sources. There are points of interest scrawled onto the map in charcoal. “Let’s see, if he’s looking for shelter,” she traces up from Sweetwater using her finger. “There are two places he could go north of here. Do you know anything about these, Darce?”

“BZZT. Compass Stone,” the Magnemite hums immediately, before Darcie can answer. They hover down and press a screw to the map on a jagged symbol. “ZZ. Interferes with compasses. Compasses will always point to it. Radius of two steps.”

“Steps?” you ask, your head leaning down and resting between Gwen’s ears. One of them twitches and tickles your cheek with her fur.

“About the size of one of the big footprint valleys in Groudon’s Steps,” Spring exposits. You guess it’s like how people from Unova often use football fields for comparative measurements. The image of the stone has it making a long overhanging cliff, which would provide shade from the sun.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Local (14, 7/8)

Pulling herself further up to get a good look, Darcie slumps back into a less strenuous posture. “The other one is called the Crest Labyrinth.” Getting tired of sitting on her tail, she drops down again to all fours. “I heard stories of that one. A Guild was trying to figure out how to make their own Mystery Dungeon and that was their test site.”

“Did it work?” Gwen asks.

Darcie clicks her fangs. “No. There is a maze, but I heard it doesn’t move.”

“Sound like good place to hide.”

“Or,” Spring traces her finger to the edge of the map, “He deked into the desert to throw off his trail, and he’s going to try and cross the Redcap mountains to the north.” She rests her elbow on the desk and leans on her arm. “It’s what I would do, but I’m a good climber. I don’t know if our potionmaker is.”

The Compass Stone is between you and the mountains, so if you go there you could turn and go to the maze or continue past to the mountains. Ignoring the stone would save a bit of travel time going straight to the mountain range or the maze.

Choose a location that is promising to investigate first:

>Compass Stone

>Crest Labyrinth

>Redcap Mountain Range

Chapter Text

Using Gwen as a support, you steady yourself. Your fingers scritch at her neck scruff. She looks up and takes notice of the serious expression on your face. A single, silent nod is given in return. The time for lewdness and jokes has passed, and it will come again. Right now, you gather your wits to focus against the haze of the migraine auras.

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Psy Rupture (18/14)

To your surprise, taking back focus has a very tangible effect. The drifting of your thoughts like frayed threads starts to wind back together, and your mind feels slow, still, but not scattered. Curious about the real nature of this migraine, you pay close attention to the Magnemite while it watches over Spring’s shoulder.

“The Compass Stone and Labyrinth are far enough apart that whichever one we don’t visit, someone going there would have a significant time advantage,” her brow is furrowed and her eyes intense, in competitive mode.

You cut into her train of thought to ask the nosy orb, “How long ago did you see the Zigzagoon?” The stutter that usually plagues your speech is still being held at bay by your slowed thoughts and the physical relaxation caused by the Rawst Berries you ate.

“BZZT, time of detection was: The morning of the previous day. Less than three hours before your arrival.”

“So he doesn’t have a huge head start if he tried to climb the mountains,” Spring comments. “Unless he’s an experienced climber, he won’t outrun me on the slopes. We can safely check that one last.” You nod along, already thinking the same.

Magnemite’s aura is a calm white outline around its body. Strangely, after focusing and pulling yourself together, the auras seem smaller and less clear. You can no longer make out the colors around Spring, they have died down to a pale flame-flickering outline around the edges of her body.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (3, 14/12)

You’re not an expert on psychic phenomena, but you know that some humans with sensitivity to psychic power and poor control of it can end up hospitalized. There was a documentary once on television and they interviewed a woman in an isolation ward. She said that cities are like a constant bombardment of thoughts and feelings that she can’t keep out of her head.

It could be that some of everyone’s emotional state was leaking in through the event you experienced. If it’s anything like what that woman was talking about, you’re just glad you were in a little desert village when it happened.

“Does not being a real dungeon mean the Labyrinth is safe?” you ask, your experience here has mostly been in or near settlements. There’s a lot of wild out there.

Gwen huffs. “No. Not safe. Pokemon may live inside.”

“Not everyone likes to live in towns, there are plenty who live on their own and grow food or farm dungeons for it. You have,” bringing a hand up in front of her, Spring starts to count on her fingers, “Loners, outlaws, the ones who don’t want townmon to see what they’re doing, nomadic clans and tribes, and the ones who are born out there.” Letting her hand fall, she points around the map and traces her finger between the marked locations. A familiar sounding mirage tower, some kind of dungeon pyramid, sand pits and sprawling dunes. “In places like the desert and the mountains they’re more common because they aren’t bothered as much.” She looks you in the eyes. “You can guess what that means.”

“They like to keep it that way.”

Gwen nods her head. “Territorial. Will be some in maze. Am sure.”

Inexperienced Darcie doesn’t have a lot to add, just looking between everyone talking and soaking it in. She’s attentive to everything you’re discussing, though. You can tell she’s not zoning out or getting distracted.

A thought pops into your head. “Gwen, do you think you could pick up Hustle or Rusty’s trail?”

“Can try,” she agrees right away. With her taking the lead under your hand, you are led down the stairs with Darcie behind you, and Spring bringing up the rear this time.

“Thanks for the help,” Darcie calls back up the tower.

“BZZT. You are welcome, Guild Team.”

Following where the Magnemite saw Hustle pass by, you take your hand off of Gwen’s back and stand on your own while she sniffs around. Spring walks past and starts looking around at the ground for any visible traces.

>Gwen Intelligence: Odor Sleuth, Sand Disadvantage (11, 1/14)

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (14/10)

When Gwen starts sniffing at the ground, she snorts up a noseful of sand and gags, then starts having a sneezing fit. “BROOPH. BWOOCK!” she repeatedly sneezes and rubs her face, trying to will the sand out of her nose. “Snrf. Never sand.”

“Sorry,” you meekly apologize, petting her back while she sniffles, accidentally inhales another nostrilful of sand, and has another fit of sneezing.

>Gwen has received the Sand Sensitivity Incompetency

Taking her chin in your hand, you take a look at her face. “Can I try to help clear it out?” you offer. Gwen’s throat vibrates against your palm and she nods, visible twitching and trying to resist sneezing in your face. Plucking a stem from your team’s Bluk Berry, you bring it up. “Try to stay still, okay?”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (13, 11/12)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Sand Sensitivity (3, 13/12)

Gingerly using the soft tip of the stem from the end that was inside of the berry, you carefully clean out Gwen’s nostrils. She sits like a fierce gargoyle, face stern in concentration to keep her body’s reflexes from sneezing at the tickling intrusion. After you finish, Gwen takes a deep breath and then sighs in relief. Her long tongue drags up your neck and the underside of your chin. “Heheh, glad I could help,” you smile and flick away the sand and mucous-covered stem.

“They didn’t leave too much earlier than us,” Spring calls back from on top of a dune ahead, where she trekked while you and Gwen were busy with the sand troubles. Darcie followed her and is hanging nearby, making you proud she understands not letting teammates wander off alone already.

 Resting on one hand and a knee, Spring raises the other to point down the slope in front of her, “The side of the dune shielded from the wind still has footprints. It’s easy to see the ones where Roxie was hopping down.”

A short walk to catch up, and you get to the crest of the dune where Spring awaits. The trail is pretty obvious down the slope when you know what you’re looking at. “Can you tell where they were going?”

“From the angle,” covering her eyes from the sun, Spring looks out over the sand. “I’d say he’s going to the Compass Stone.”

After all of the mulling over, you decide, “We should go to the Labyrinth and beat him there. I think. Do either of you object?” you glance at both Spring and Gwen. Both of them glance at each other.

“Agree,” Gwen grunts.

“Yup,” Taking the lead again, Spring starts down the dunes, at a western angle from where Roxie’s tracks are headed. As you follow, you admire the view of the desert. Behind you over the dune, you can see it stretch south of the outpost, closer to the road you came in on, where it’s more like a dry badland. The further north you look, the more it’s like giant waves of sand. And the sand sparkles, too. Like millions of little diamonds reflecting the sun. It dazzles the eyes.

With her natural eye goggles, Darcie doesn’t look bothered. “We like to call it the Starlight Desert,” she says while the other girls struggle up and over each slippery hill. “Stars above at night, and stars below during the day.” Her pointed legs and low frame are good at digging into the sand and propelling her forward without losing traction. Your sharp claws are good at it too, going on all fours makes this a cakewalk.

Spring’s cake walking in front of you hasn’t escaped your notice either. “Hey, Spring,” you get her attention when she’s glancing back to look at Darce. “Thanks for taking charge while I’m not feeling great. You’ve been a huge help.”

Flashing you a set of pearly fangs, Spring reaches back and cups one of her cheeks, pulling it aside to give you a view at the top of the next dune. “Don’t I always? If you want to kiss up, I’m right here. I see you staring.”

>Murdoch Will: Psy Strain (17/8)

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Will Pass Advantage, Psy Strain (11/8)

Undeniably, there is a warmness in your crotch at her request. And your kilt protects it from the brushing of the sand. But you push that feeling aside. Feeling so out of it helps with controlling your horny and keeping focused on serious mode. “Maybe another time. We’ve got a mission to do.” Your controlled response changes Spring’s playful grin into a smirk of respect.

“Good. As long as you stay focused, I don’t mind you enjoying the view,” she lets go of her bouncy bun to let it clap shut and jumps ahead, starting to slide down the dune on her heels.

>Murdoch Fitness: Fire Type, Hot Climate Species, Supported, Psy Strain, Occa (17/4)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Sand Sensitivity, Occa (18, 20/10)

>Spring Fitness: Fire Type, Advantage, Survival, Occa (12, 2/4)

>Darcie Fitness: Desert Species, Diligence, Occa (3/2)

>Spring Intelligence: Survival, Bad Luck (11/10)

Travel through the desert feels easy to you. You have no doubt that human-you would have dropped death of heat exhaustion by now. Those omelettes help a lot, but you feel like you’d have been fine without any. While you and the girls stop at the top of a hill to drink from your bottled water supplies, you look up at the mountains you can make out on the horizon now. As mountains go, you don’t think they’re very tall. They look rough and red, with terraced levels that ascend. Badland mountains.

And another structure you can start to make out ahead, formed out of pale yellow stone. It must be the one you’re looking for, because there sure isn’t anything else out here. The one cactus you passed turned out to be a wild Maractus and left the moment your team started to get close. Spring got you there without getting lost along the way, and you’ll surely arrive before Rusty and his team make it here.

“Do you all do anything for fun? Besides having sex,” Darce looked a little tired out when you stopped, used to hard work and exercise but not this much walking, but by the end of the pit stop she looks refreshed and ready to go.

“Gwen likes to wrestle me, and I like to kick her butt. Isn’t that right?” Spring wets a hand from her smaller water flask and runs it over Gwen’s fur, washing out some of the dust and cooling the poor girl off.

Raising her head, Gwen licks Spring, dragging her tongue up the fire monkey’s face- much to Spring’s surprise. “Like to train. Rough housing. Is fun no matter who wins.” Then she bares her teeth and growls playfully. “But win next time.” Spring holds the staredown for a solid twenty seconds and then cheats by scratching Gwen behind the ear to make her flinch.

“What about you Darce?” Sitting on the other side of Gwen, you stroke and scratch at the base of her tail, which sweeps back and forth over the sand in a relaxed wag. “Besides having sex with Berries.”

Clicking her pincers against her mandibles, Darcie thinks on it. “I like looking at the stars. It is far from a unique pastime around here. The name of the inn gave it away, I guess. For some reason they just look brighter over the desert. And listening to Zera’s music. That’s the Sneasel from the bar.”

“Was relaxing,” Gwen concurs.

Once small talk is exhausted and everyone’s tongue comfortably wetted, the gang approaches their destination. It’s a broad hexagonal structure built into what was once a flatter piece of land, but has since been subject to the blowing winds and piled up with sand along each outer wall. The sandstone brickwork building has a sloped roof that rises into a shallow peak from each side.

An inverted metal portcullis, sticking out of the ground beneath the sole opening, faces the direction of the outpost. As if at some point it was supposed to welcome travelers coming from that direction. Above the portcullis is an archway, and the apex bears a trio of golden crescents with a hole in their crook where something gem-shaped used to be slotted but was pried out in the past by thieves.

A red stone is stuffed into the portcullis mechanism, between it and the ground. Spring squats next to the stone and tests pulling it out. “I think this is holding it up and ‘closed’, whatever normally does must be broken.” Letting go, she stands and looks at you over her shoulder. “It wouldn’t be hard for Gwen and I to move this together, but the message is obvious, whoever’s inside doesn’t want visitors.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (19, 15/12)

Letting the metal grate drop will cause it to clang against the frame of the hole it’s in, not to mention the screeching of rusty and sand-clogged mechanisms. It’ll be loud. Anyone inside would be alerted to you being here for sure.

The spaces between the portcullis prongs are wide enough that you think you could fit through. Your body is flexible and lithe, with a long and slender head. If Darcie turned on her side, she would be flat enough to slip through easily too. Spring and Gwen might get stuck if they tried to squeeze through, especially Spring who’s kind of a fathead.

One thing you know for certain is that there’s a distinct aura around this place. Your scales feel like something energetic is dancing across the surface of your body in dozens of little sparks.

“If we wanted to have more backup, we could wait for Rusty to get here and work together,” you wonder aloud while evaluating your options.

“Pfsh,” Spring scoffs with a flutter of air out of her lips. “We don’t need help from the weenies. And if we find him by ourselves, we get the full call on what to do with him. Right?”

“Right…”

Tapping her stingers for attention, Darcie shifts back and forth before suggesting, “Anyone would be mad if we barge into their home. Maybe we should call out to get their attention and negotiate.”

>Remove the rock and lower the portcullis?

>Squeeze through with Darcie to sneak inside and leave the other girls outside?

>Squeeze through with a different set of team members?

>Wait to see if Rusty comes here?

>Call out and parley with any inhabitants who answer?

Chapter Text

So far, you have managed to make friends out of rivals and former foes. Not seeing any reason to stop approaching things diplomatically, you claps your forepaws in front of you and nod your head at Darcie. “I like that idea.” Before you get too far ahead of yourself, you stop to think of the approach. “If outlaws are hiding inside, there’s a chance they might now the two of you,” you tell Gwen and Spring. “Do you mind waiting around the corner?”

“Sure. If they decide to jump out and attack you, we can catch them in a flanking move. Right?” Slapping Gwen on the flank and then stretching out her knuckles, Spring saunters to the bend in the wall of the maze. Swatting the monkey back with her tail, Gwen stops to nuzzle you under the chin.

“Will come if you need me.”

The two of them disappear around the vertex of the hexagon, leaving you with Darcie in front of the intimidating metal grate. Casting one last side-eye at her, you step up to take the lead and approach the bars. Mustering up the strength to shout by gathering a deep breath, you cup your snout and bellow, “Hello? Is anybody home?”

Your voice rebounds between the dusty stone walls, reverberating deep into the structure and echoing back to you. Once the sound waves have fizzled out and dispersed into the air, you hear a bone-chilling shriek from deeper inside of the structure, joined by more of them. Each echoes out to you in cascading waves like the warbling, guttural cries a horror game monster.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (2, 5/12)

>Murdoch Will: Psy Strain (9/12)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage (13, 8/10)

A deep-running shiver travels up and down your spine, and your feet freeze in place in a panic. “Uh,” you hear Darcie speak up from behind you, and her little legs shifting back and forth in the sand. Out of the corner of your eye, you also see Gwen peering around the corner to check on you. “I think that was a Garchomp,” Darcie finishes her thought.

“G, Garchomp?” you echo for lack of anything else popping into your head.

>Darcie Athletics: Difficult, Diligence (20/14)

Still frozen in place, you wait for someone to appear inside of the grate. Then, you feel a rumbling beneath your feet a fraction of a second before something slams into you from behind. Darcie’s chitinous underside impacts your back and knocks you over, she lands on top of you and then tumbles off.

Where you were standing before, a Garchomp’s distinct yellow-star forehead bursts out of the ground, accompanied by rows of snapping shark teeth. Sailing through the air like a missile, the land dragon strikes the sandy ground and dives back underneath, circling to face you with a fin sticking out above it.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (20, 5/12)

At once, your senses come back to you, and you spin up from the ground back into your stance. Remembering Gwen’s training, you space your legs at an angle that will allow you to kick off of the ground and move more quickly in a short burst, and poise your tail to use as a springboard for more force.

Darcie flips herself rightways up with her tail.

What you notice first is the lack of a notch in the Garchomp’s fin, marking her as a female. Movement in the corner of your eye draws your attention to more Pokemon peering out from inside of the labyrinth’s metal grate. A head much like the mother’s, but smaller, belonging to a Gabite who stands over two Gible poking their heads out to watch the show.

Sand runs off of the dragon’s sides as she lifts her upper body out of the ground, using her fins to balance while her legs remain submerged. Fierce rings of yellow reflect the evening sunlight, in her dark eyes. Head tilting to the side, she commands in a scratchy growl, “Come out! Intruder! I feel you!” Slamming one arm into the ground, she makes the entire area shudder, dunes rumbling and shifting as grains of sand fall. You use your tail to keep balance.

Spring steps out from behind the wall, with Gwen padding along behind her. The Poochyena is eyeing Momchomp and sizing her up, and the wary look on her face doesn’t fill you with confidence.

“Salandit. What,” the dragon snarls, crawling further out of the sand so that she can stand to her full height and look down at you, “Do you want?”

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Dealmaking, Psy Strain (15/8)

>Murdoch Charm: Difficult, Supported, Dealmaking, Cunning Linguist, Psy Strain (10/10)

You can do this. This is your zone. Just be your disarming, charming self, you reassure your uneasy mind. Taking a deep breath in and then letting it out, you step slowly forward and lower your fighting stance. One paw clasps the golden collar around your neck, and you hold the open palm of the other towards her. “I am Murdoch, leader of Hoopa’s Guild. We don’t mean you or, or your children?” Her face doesn’t flinch. “You or your children any harm, mm, miss.”

Beside you, Darce takes on a submissive posture to the dragon, lowering her stinger into an unthreatening position. Following your lead, Spring lowers her stance as well and remains casual. Only Gwen remains on guard, ready to leap forward if things turn sour.

Each in turn is evaluated by the protective mother. “I asked. What you want. Talk plain, Guilder human.” Her tone doesn’t sound any more positive than before, but at least she isn’t lunging for your throat?

“We are looking for someone in trouble. Ww, we want to protect him, from people who mean him harm,” you explain, some of your words starting to stammer and waver again.

“Who?”

“A Zigzagoon. Fluffy, with zigzag patterns,” slowly explaining, you draw a jagged line in the sand with your toe. “Like that.”

“I know what it is,” she snaps, stomping towards you. Both you and Gwen ready yourselves to leap or lunge, but she passes you by and walks to the entrance of her den instead, standing between you and the younger dragons poking their heads out. The Momchomp rasps a growl at them and waves her arm, urging them back inside and away from any crossfire. The whole time, one eye is kept on you and your friends. After the shark pups are gone, she speaks again. “Ziggoon. Tried to sneak in my den. Drove him away.”

In a meek voice from your heel, Darcie asks, “Do you know where he went after that?”

Throwing her head in a jerking motion towards the mountains beyond, she huffs. “Ran that way.” Those golden eyes bore into your head. “That all you want? Then go.”

“Hh, have you heard of the King?” you ask, but she just spits out some sand.

“No. Do not care.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air, and you look up at the gem-pilfered facade above the door. Curiosity is still eating at you over what this place is, but it might not be a good idea to overstay your welcome. Calling it a welcome in the first place would be a stretch. It’s more like a tolerate.

Soft footsteps come up next to you, and Spring whispers in your ear, “Rusty might be coming here next. If someone bothers her again today they’re likely to get their shit rocked.” Gwen is on her other side, tense.

There is always splitting up if you feel the need to.

>Leave towards the mountains to follow Hustle’s trail

>Leave towards the Compass Stone to warn Rusty not to poke his head into the Labyrinth (or ask for his help defeating the Garchomp)

>Ask Momchomp more questions (Difficult Charm)

>Ask to come inside and look around (Impossible Charm)

>Roll to seduce (Impossible Charm)

>Offer a gift as tribute (Slightly lowers Charm difficulty for skill tests with Momchomp now)

>Offer to help her with errands (Greatly lowers Charm difficulty for skill tests with Momchomp later)

>Fight the Garchomp (Suggest strategy)

Chapter Text

Tentatively, you place a foot forward. Towering over you, the dragon does not show any signs of nervousness, her golden eyes glowering. You sidle up in front of Gwen and reach into the bag, setting out a trio of apples into the sand, along with the wrapped up loaf of bread. Pushing them forward, you prostrate yourself upon the ground. “Wwe apologize for intruding on your home. And to thank you for your information, I would like to offer food. Food for your family.”

Sand crunches under her feet, getting closer, until you peek out from behind your clasped forepaws and see one of her dagger-sized footclaws in front of you. Piercing into one of the apples with the single point on her armfin, she lifts it up and licks it, then sinks her teeth cautiously into the fruit flesh to suck at some of the juices. The grains of sand stuck to it don’t bother her at all. Pulling her jaws away, she pulls in the sweet, sticky dribbles running down her chin using her tongue. Apparently satisfied, she gathers the rest into her arms. “Good. Guilder knows respect.” Her voice sounds please, and she turns away. Her long, finned tail passes above you.

>Murdoch Charm: Large Gift, Dealmaking, Supported, Cunning Linguist, Psy Strain (18, 14/12)

After it swings past, you get back up and keep your claws folded in front. You glance back at Gwen and swallow down some fear. Gwen looks calmer now, as though she senses the tension leaving with Momchomp’s aggression cooling down. You call after her, “I just have one more thing I would like to ask.” She stops walking and looks over her shoulder at you. Intimidating as her glare is, it doesn’t seem angry anymore. “Another Guild is also out here searching. They, their leader is a friend of mind. If they come knocking could you not beat them up? And… maybe send them to the mountains after us?”

One of the draconic shark’s eyes narrows. “Why you want competition to follow?”

“I mean, it’s friendly competition,” you wiggle your tail back and forth. She accepts it and swipes her tail over the sand.

“I will tell them.”

Something else pops into your head and you step forward, holding up one digit. “And one more thing…”

“You test my patience,” she tells you curtly without turning around.

Keeping on your friendliest posture, you offer, “You seem really tense. When we are on our way back, ww, would you like a back massage?”

The fin on the Garchomp’s back wiggles from side to side, or maybe her midsection does. Circling to look back from the portcullis, she analyzes your goofy look and its mix of sincerity and barely contained wandering eyes. “I will allow it,” she permits imperiously.

Once the fearsome mother has left the scene, everyone releases a collective sigh of relief. Spring laughs and sets her hand on your shoulder, “Playing even now?” Swinging past you, she walks in front of the group, backpedaling in the direction of the mountains. You start to follow, with Gwen closing in to your side and rubbing up against you, forcing your arm to fall around her.

“It’s not like that,” you correct her, “There’s something about that place. I want to look inside.” Spring quirks her brow and then waves one of her hands in front of her, dismissing it.

“If you say so. Anyways, we won’t need to worry about Rusty now. Good job negotiating,  fearless leader,” with a smooth pivot on her heel, Spring adjusts to walking straight again. “Knew we kept you around for something.”

The long day of walking resumes. Beside you, Gwen softly compliments, “Your calm was very,” her tongue plays around searching for the right thing to say. “Attractive.”

“Aw, I’m just high as a kite right now,” you playfully nudge her. She nudges back, the shoulder check nearly toppling you over onto Darcie. The back of the scorpion’s tail catches you and she lifts you back onto your feet. Gwen bashfully licks your face in apology for underestimating her strength.

“Do not be bad to yourself. Be proud when you can be proud,” your Partner raises her chin. Then she huffs and does it again, more intently. You giggle and lift up your chin too, strutting along beside her like you own this stretch of desert.

Darcie watches the two of you strut, and her tail curls and bobs along with your pace. "You two are cute," she says quietly.

During the hike, you think over some ideas and strategies for the future. Mostly things to do in case of emergencies. Once your headache goes away completely, you could help Victor and Larissa familiarize themselves with Rusty so that all of the friendly Guilds are able to contact each other if they’re in trouble and send out distress calls.

“Hey Gwen,” you get her attention, her ear twitching and swiveling towards you. “If we ever get separated, I could use Sweet Scent so you can find me more easily.” Her head turns slightly towards you, and bobs up and down. You can see her tongue hanging out as she pants.

>Murdoch Fitness: Fire Type, Hot Climate Species, Supported, Psy Strain, Occa (17/4)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Sand Sensitivity, Occa (2, 9/10)

>Spring Fitness: Fire Type, Advantage, Survival, Occa (7, 5/4)

>Darcie Fitness: Desert Species, Diligence, Occa (18/2)

>Spring Intelligence: Survival, Bad Luck (2/10)

>Gwen Intelligence: Odor Sleuth, Tired (12/12)

The hot weather is starting to get to Gwen under her fur, even after stopping for another drink of water. Sand drifts coming up into her face have sent her into three more sneezing fits since you left Crest Labyrinth. Her only reprieve is when you leave behind the sifting ground and step onto firmer earth. Like the southern parts of the desert land, the area beneath the broad, flat mountains has rich red soil. Plants such as bushes and cacti become more common, and Gwen breathes more easily.

Footprints are harder to come by. Spring crawls and squats near plants that she thinks Hustle might have taken a bite out of, including one cactus which couldn’t have been pleasant. For all her efforts, there are no concrete traces left of his passing after that cactus. It would be hard to eat after that.

There are no foothills, and few rocky ledges. You can see the stark wall of the mountain range, intimidating and impossible to cross without the right tools or know-how. Without a doubt Hustle can’t be far, now.

“I will try again,” Gwen turns back, marching to the bitten cactus. She bends down and sniffs the dusty ground, nose twitching. Her breath catches and she broadens her stance, preparing for a sneeze that she eventually fights down. “Think I smell him,” she says, brushing her face with a paw and jutting her nose forward to track him down.

Now both Gwen and Spring are at the front again, competing for who gets to lead by half an inch more. Darcie keeps pace with you. She really ought to be filled in on the whole deal of what you’re getting into, you think. “Do you know someone called the King?”

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage (1, 12/10)

Her head turns, cocking diagonally while she walks. “You asked that before with the Garchomp. He rules Tallspire City, is that right?” You nod your head to confirm. “The way you talk about him, you sound agitated,” she points out.

Fidgeting, you pick at your teeth with a clawtip. “Mm, my Guild has found out that he’s been doing some shady things. Like all of Tallspire is under his spell somehow and adores him. You remember Victor?” Darcie clicks her pincers against her mandibles and nods. “He used to be the King’s boyfriend. Or, concubine? I don’t know. Victor thought,” you pause and feel a little odd telling someone else’s side here, making assumptions about how they feel. So you decide to stick to the facts. “Anyhow. The King was abusive, and eventually Victor got away. He’s not the only one we met who got away and broke out of the King’s spell, and Hustle mmay be one too.”

There’s a silence that hangs over your walk while Darcie processes the information. Sand doesn’t crunch underfoot anymore. Instead your feet are coated in a thin layer of red dust, and your claws make a scraping ground when they grip the ground.

“How does he keep a spell over the entire city?”

“I don’t know that for sure either. Guild powers? Maybe Hustle can tell us.”

“Guilds are supposed to disband and give up their powers. It sounds hard to believe, but,” Darcie considers your face. “You have been honest. Too honest sometimes,” she clicks her jaws together in a mandibular laugh. “If you say so, I believe you.”

>Gwen Intelligence: Reckless (17/12)

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (9/8)

“Hey,” slowing down her walking pace, Spring sets her hand on the base of Gwen’s neck. Turning her nose up from sniffing the trail, Gwen sees what Spring is pointing at, and so do you from behind them. A black and white striped tail sticking out from behind a cylindrical pillar of rock. Looking back, Spring signals you and Darcie to go around one side, while she follows Gwen around to the other side. Gwen starts to take off a head of her, but Spring tugs her tail to pull her back. Gwen shoots her a glare, which Spring responds to by shushing her with a finger.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Magic Tricks, Psy Strain (13, 19/5)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage (4, 13/5)

>Gwen Intelligence: (16/5)

>Spring Intelligence: (13/5)

Curving the naturally formed pillar, you spot a black and white Zigzagoon with a star pattern over his eye. Just above his tail is a folded over cloth bag tied to his tail base. There is a large scorch mark along his left side, running down his torso. The burnt flesh underneath has been healed, but his fur is still blackened and shorter there. He’s curled in on himself with a long, prehensile tongue holding itself just above the ground while he struggles to get hold of and pull free cactus needles stuck into the long pink muscle. He didn’t hear you coming at all, and when Hustle’s red eyes lock onto you when you round the corner and he freezes.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Tackle, Combat, Surprise Attack, Tired (1, 1)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Surprise Attack, Competitive (4, 14/8)

Coming around from behind, the girls jump at Hustle just as he begins to bolt towards you out of blind instinct. Both of them are jostling with each other for the lead and tripping over each other in the process. Gwen tries to grab his tail in her teeth, but accidentally steps on one of the cactus thorns Hustle pulled from his mouth and stumbles forward, falling with a whimper due to the stinging pain.

Leaping over Gwen, Spring lands on top of Hustle with a knee to his back and quickly locks her knees onto his sides. “Got’cha you slippery rascal. You’ve been giving us quite the runaround.” She shoots a look behind her to check if Gwen is okay. The Poochyena is limping her way over with one paw up in the air to avoid pressing it down, her face firm and not betraying her obvious discomfort.

Lying practically right in front of you no, you’d say Hustle looks a little on the pudgy side. On either side, Spring’s knees sink against him, with his scruffy fur sticking out at all angles. He’s covered in sand and red dust, with cactus thorns stuck to his tongue and his gums.

“Been there,” Darcie comments, then she shuffles her feet and quietly adds to you, “In the mouth is not recommended, but they can be nice in the right pressure points.”

When he notices you looking, Hustle stares into your eyes with big bright red orbs somewhere between the color of apples the color of a Pecha Berry. “Awoo haw ee?” he mumbles around his pricked tongue tongue. It is rather hard not to feel sympathetic for his condition, even if it’s because the dumbass decided to bite a cactus.

“Who wants to do the honors before we start plucking these two pincushions clean?” Spring holds a hand towards the spare golden collar, which Darcie is still wearing.

Questioning Hustle will be hard while he can’t speak.

>How will you restrain Hustle?

>>Use Rope to tie him up

>>Use Leash with someone to handle it

>>Use Hoopa’s Collar and command him to stay

>>Use Hoopa’s Collar but give no commands yet

>>Leave him unrestrained (Charm to convince him not to try and escape again)

>Gwen and Hustle both have a cactus problem. Who will help each of them? (Fitness or Intelligence to remove cactus needles)

>Recruit Hustle into the Guild? (Charm to convince him to trust you, or you can force him to join if you use the Collar)

>Wait to question Hustle until regrouping with Rusty, or do it now? (Charm to convince him to talk, or you can force him to if you use the Collar)

Chapter Text

Spring is waiting expectantly, her legs wrapped around the black-and-white striped goon pinned under her. The fight has gone out of him, or he’s just good at making those big begging eyes. They water with tears, and he holds his long, needle-stricken tongue between his paws pathetically, presenting the muscle. Wind blows across the sun-baked red soil, sweeping a swirl of dust into the air. It leaves a dryness on your tongue, as you open your mouth to answer, “Hold on, um,” twisting around, you walk over to Darcie. Her pokers are lodged under the collar, which she’s trying to lift off herself to offer up.

“How do you resize this?” the Skorupi asks furtively. When you clasp the gold of Hoopa’s second collar, it gives and becomes more cooperative under your claws. The material stretches and expands into a wider ring as you lift it off of her. “Oh.” It’s been warmed by the desert sun, but the golden material does not gather enough heat to become unbearably hot.

“Yeah umm, maybe I can give permission for oother people to do that? I… dunno,” taking it up in your claws, you waddle to Hustle’s side and gently slide it around his neck. Where his raised fur brushes against your scales, it’s coarse like a strip of Velcro that grew too long, into strands of black and white grass. Yet the flesh underneath is soft, and gives to your touch. He’s lived a life of relative luxury. “Is that too tight?” you ask softly, and Hustle sniffles, nodding his head. With some adjustments, you make certain it’s on firmly, and not digging into his pudgy neck too deeply “Better?” A reluctant nod. Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you let it out, reliving some of the dull ache inside your skull.

Stretching the edge of her mouth triumphantly, Spring pats Hustle’s bristly flank. “Alright. Order him to sit his ass still.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dependent, Psy Strain (12, 14/14)

>Murdoch Will: Successful Read, Pushover, Dependent, Psy Strain (17/14)

You look into his eyes. There’s a flicker of genuine panic that shoots into his round, glazed puppy dog expression. If he just managed to get away from the King’s control, immediately placing commands on him could break any kind of trust. “No. I’m… I’m not going to do that,” it’s difficult to make yourself go against Spring’s suggestion. She’s the professional, and you’ve never been very- well. You’ve never had much of a spine. But the base of every spine has to start growing somewhere. Setting a claw on his head, you tell him, “We’re not here to hurt you, Hustle. Ester sent us.”

>You have begun to overcome your Pushover flaw

>Murdoch Charm: Ester’s Name, Psy Strain (11/10)

“Eeoor?” Hustle inarticulates around his tongue. Fur around his head and ears begins to settle, back against his body.

“Yeah. Give us a chance to pick these needles clean, and then we can, mm, we can talk more about it,” you look up at Darcie. “You said you had mmnexperience? Darcie?”

“Oh!” Surprised to be called on, she hops into the air and scuttles closer, legs carrying her swiftly and smoothly over the flatland. “Yes. I can fix this, definitely.” The pincer at the tip of her tail clicks delicately together, and Hustle’s ears twitch back, flat against his head. “I won’t sting you, I promise.” Folding her legs underneath her, she forms a stable platform with her body and operates the appendage delicately like a crane. Or one of those claw machines full of stuffed toys.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence, Crafts, Masochism (20, 2/4)

No, that description doesn’t do her work justice. The precision she displays is more like a surgical tool, steady and precise. By the time you stand, she’s already removed four needles from his lolling tongue.

Brushing off your knees, you step around Hustle and gently guide Spring off his back with a claw. Biting her lip, she reluctantly follows your lead. Hustle doesn’t bolt. Not immediately. “Fine, fine. I’ll stick close in case he-” you shake your head, and Spring frowns. “No? Why?“

“I want you to,” your eye traces the horizon. The greenery is sparse cacti and rugged, desert weeds. You know there are Berries that grow in these conditions. “See if you can find any Berries around here we can use for treatment.” After a small pause, you hold up a digit and add, “And… also keep an eye out, for Rusty and his Guild. Give us some advance warning if they come.”

>Murdoch Charm: Did the Right Thing, Psy Strain (13/10)

Ears flexing up and down, Spring folds her arms. “Fine. If he gets loose because we left him all- all loosey goosey, you better catch him next time,” with a wave of her hand, she turns and starts to tread away. Something stops her, and her foot taps against the ground. Squared stubbornness inches down from her shoulders, and then falls off of them. Just before you turn away as well, she adds, “I think you did good though.” When you cock your head and twitch your frills, she gives a brief smile. “You’re right. You were right.” She has confidence in her voice. Confidence in you. “With whatever he might have gone through, we shouldn’t use the collar on him willy-nilly.”

Stepping closer, you lean forward and give her a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Spring, you did good too,” you smile back, and she goes.

At last, you kneel in front of Gwen. She’s sitting with her thorn-stuck paw raised in front of her chest, tucked in to avoid pressing it against anything. “Thanks for being so patient. Can I,” you hold out a claw. She lays her paw in your palm- “Take a look…” -before you even finish asking.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Thief King’s Fingers, Gwen Expert, Supported, Clumsy, Psy Strain (3, 11/8)

You wouldn’t say you have a surgeon’s hands. A thief’s hands will have to do. Taking it slow, holding Gwen’s paw, you give extra careful attention to the parts you know are the most sensitive. A little at first, then more, you let your fingers run their magic into Gwen’s paw. Pleasure mixes with the pain- a strange sensation for her, which causes her to struggle visibly not to wiggle in place. It softens each careful pluck, making the needle sliding out between your claws feel like a sensual motion.

When the delicate work is done, you kiss the small red spots on her paw. No blood trickles out, and you can’t taste any on your tongue. Her own drapes itself over your face a second later, leaving a slimy, cool trail of wetness that the barrens’ baking sun dries as soon as it came. “Had worse,” Gwen says, setting her paw down with a wince. “You are getting better.”

Taking her neck scruff between your paws, you rub her down affectionately, working up her cheeks and then behind her ears, meeting her tongue with your own when it comes in for a double dip. “You’ve hard a… er, um. You had a hard day,” you say, leaning forward to speak in her ear. Her tongue continues to lap at your neck, tickling the sensitive nerves around your bandana-fins. “Take a rest in the shade, Gwen. I… we’ve got it from here.”

She pulls her head back and looks over her shoulder at the shelter of the rocks, offering a tempting sliver of shade. “I will. Call if you need.” Pressing her scalp under your chin, she brushes you with her ears and tail, winding past. You deftly slip the item bag from her as she leaves to settle somewhere more comfortable.

>Hustle Will: Charm Success, Ester’s Name, Treated Well (20/4)

By the time you get back to Hustle, Darcie has picked his tongue clean and remains seated next to him. He’s pulled his legs in too, forming a broad loaf on the red soil. There’s no signs of looking for an out, a way to run. “Impressive work, Darce,” you glance at the pile of neatly arranged needles. Placing a claw under her chin, you gently guider her to look up. And she looks up, a little confused. “Mind if I give you a um, a kiss good job… or is that, would that be tooo weird?” You wouldn’t want her to feel left out of the dynamic.

“Nothing weirder than we’ve already done I think,” she answers. You give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Um, thanks,” she says, tucking in her tail beside her.

“Um, welcome!” Look at you, you Casanova. You give the girls a kiss and they say thank you. Then an awkward silence hangs in the air as neither of you are sure how to break off the exchange. You are the one to rip off the bandaid, in the end. “Hustle? Are you feeling better?” you turn alongside Darcie and ease yourself down to the ground, fishing with a claw in the item bag. His nose twitches.

“Yea a bid,” still a bit of a lisp from the sore tongue. Hustle’s expression brightens immediately when you draw a Rawst Berry from your bag and hold it in front of him. Opening his jaws, he leans in, then looks at you with just his eyes, frozen in place hovering with his teeth above the skin.

“It’s for you. It’ll help with-” he gulps it into his mouth and chews loudly, the fruit flesh restoring moisture to his battered tongue. “With the pain and um, the burns.” They were mostly healed already, but burnt skin can be sensitive to heat. It must have been irritated out here.

Letting his chin rest on the ground, Hustle’s body heaves upwards and then deflates with a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh yea. That’s the stuff.” There’s not as much of a natural lisp as you’d expect from his long, dangling tongue. “You’re an alright guy, guy. You serious about Ester sending you my way?”

You nod. “Mhm. He told us a little bit about how you two were on the run from… King, the King, for false charges,” you hesitate a little on the name, worried it could trigger something. No, though. Hustle’s expression maintains clarity. Horrified clarity.

“It was bad,” he breathes. “Nobody knows, guy. Nobody knows how bad it is.”

“Murdoch.”

“Huh?” leaning his head to the side, Hustle looks down his snout at you.

“My name’s Murdoch,” you hold out a claw. He shakes it.

“Oh! I’m Hustle. Nice to meet’cha, doc.” Sure, you’ll add it to the list.

“I’m Darcie,” the scorpion adds, and he pokes one of her pokers with the tip of a clawed digit.

>Hustle Intelligence: Disadvantage, Stupid (3, 14/12)

A dopey expression settles over Hustle’s face, is if he lost track of the conversation. You clear your throat, and his ears perk up, Pecha-Berry eyes jumping to you. “Can you tell me how bad it is? And um, the burn. Where did you get that burn? Are there other, dangerous… wild Pokemon around?” Garchomp doesn’t naturally learn any Fire moves. That you can remember, at least.

“Oh, it’s bad,” Hustle rolls over onto his side, exposing his belly to the world while he cranes to try and look at the burnt fur on his flank. His paws stick out into the air. “Not the burn that’s fine. The Rawst really did the trick, doc. The King thing is bad, this was,” he stretches and grunts, trying to pat the spot in question. He’s too round and his paws are too short. “Uhn,” he grunts, again, flopping back down flat on his side. “This was from Sully. He’s the King’s,” jaw hanging open, Hustle moves it around a word on the tip of his tongue. Or, judging by its position between the hanging jaws, somewhere around the middle. “Ssen- senser- assistant guy,” he gives up and goes with a different word.

Your head pounds. Raising a paw, you rub your face.

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (2/8)

When Spring strolls back into the vicinity and interrupts the questioning, she’s empty-handed. “No luck on Berries. I’ll keep patrolling,” swiveling on a heel, she walks in the direction that Rusty’s Guild will probably be coming from.

“Right,” you mumble, using the momentary distraction to collect yourself. Mind wandering, you jaw at the air. “Huss, did you really deal in… illegal stuff?”

“Nah,” he answers immediately. Then he stops and looks into space. “Oh, kind of. But, before. And the stuff isn’t illegal. Well, it was, it’s not now. And then it wasn’t again, but maybe it is?”

“Huh?” you let your claw drag down your snout, your eyes trailing after it and settling on him. You may have overestimated his clarity, because trying to follow that sentence just gave you an extra sliver of brain damage.

Hustle wiggles his legs and strains up into a sitting position, scratching his side with a hind leg. “See it’s like,” he rolls his head around and leans back, struggling to reach his ear with that same hind leg now and flick it. “You never used to need a license to potion, like me and Kali we both used to potion but it was different parts of town. Like, my jam was more around Night Street but I never really jived with the whole cult thing and I wanted to move- actually I might have been better off with the culty things come to think of it.”

“Focus, Hustle. Potions?”

“Right, potions,” he nods his head and straightens up again after a couple unsatisfactory swats of his ear, the organ twitching in protest. “So then the King implemented licenses for making potions but nobody told me then knights came to do an inspection and- no license! So then I got in trouble but the King was all nice about it and offered me a license to be his personal potions guy and I’m like, sold! So I had a license and it wasn’t illegal again, but now I’m not employed now and no license so illegal again?” he babbles rapidly, your sluggish thoughts struggling to wrap themselves around all that information and sort it in your head.

You could use a potion to clear your head. “Do you have any supplies now?” Hustle pats himself down and then shakes his head. “Course not…”

“Ate ‘em all.” He stares into space again. “Wait!” Getting up suddenly, he’s off like a lightning bolt towards his previous hiding spot, where Gwen is now sheltering from the sun. She watches him idly, ears flicking up when he starts digging in the ground.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking, Psy Strain (16, 8/10)

From the sounds of it, King implemented a new license system for brewing Berry potions like Kalina, but Hustle specifically never got the memo. Then, coincidentally, knights show up to inspect his shop… this rings of corruption and intentional entrapment to get Hustle under King’s thumb. He must be pretty good at his job if he caught King’s eye, unless there were other ulterior motives involved.

“Hustle,” you start, getting his attention. The zigzag hustles in his signature scamper back over, and drops a slobbery Oran Berry in your paw and pants from the effort of the rapid digging. It’s… something, but doesn’t help with your headache. You hand it back into his paws, and wipe off the slobber. “I’m not sure if you’re clear in the head right now because of the collar or not, um, really not sure if it’ll last. But if you join my Guild… your bounty will go away. And you won’t be able to get controlled by King again. Would you be up for that?”

Hustle’s ears perk up and his bristly tail wags to and fro, whipping up another small swirl of the red dust that stains the white portions of his coat. “I’m up for that and down for that, buddy-doc! Where do I sign?” King shouldn't have needed to corrupt so hard to get this guy on board.

Slipping the Guild Card out of your bag, you hold it up. “You just have to agree to join and, well, just touch it and it does the rest.”

Hustle slaps it with a paw. The card shifts, taking down his information.

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (9, 15/10)

Feet trudging in the dirt approach. Spring is sauntering casually, but she flicks a thumb over her shoulder, where you spy a few small shapes approaching on the horizon. “Think that’s the others. I’d wrap up anything sensitive.”

>Any further questions for Hustle?

>How to greet Rusty?

Chapter Text

“It’s alright,” you reassure Spring. “Rusty’s a friend. I mean…” eyes wandering off to the side, measuring the distant shapes, you play with your tongue. “Sort of a friend. We nutted together, that uh, counts for something I think.”

With one raised brow and a sway of her hip into a waiting palm, Spring responds flatly, “You make new friends everywhere you go.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Psy Strain (7, 13/10)

Her dry tone is for the sake of humor. There’s no ill-will or sardonic mocking, you know what those tones sound like, coming from her. They became familiar when the animosity towards Gwen still bled over onto you. She thinks you are perhaps a little naïve to think this constitutes a friendship. While her skepticism has merit, you also know that- well, you know human brains release chemicals for forming attachments when they have sex, and especially when they finish together.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (8, 8/12)

Most Pokemon species should be similar, you think. And Rusty was a human, like you.

“Wwell, we also… we don’t really want to seem like we’re just poaching his bounty and then running,” you continue. “It’s better we um- if it stays like a friendly competition, like you and Gwen? After you made up. Like you two after you made up. Could you go greet him, fuh, friendly greeting, and then lead him back over here?”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Spring admits. “Alright, I’ll be on my best sportsmanship, rub it in his face only a little,” a wink that makes it hard to tell how much she’s being genuine, and she takes off.

Looking down at the card in your hand, you know you should show it to Hustle and be up front about what it means to be part of the Hoopa Guild. Eyes settling on the unflattering stupid label, you can’t help but worry it could hurt his feelings. It would be a nasty blow to the self-esteem to see irrefutable proof that the cosmic forces operating the world think you’re stupid. A bruised self-esteem is pain you know well. “Hustle,” you start. The goon’s ears perk up on either side of his face, and he cocks his head at you. “Just thought you should know, our Guild is… we’re not exactly normal.”

A blink. “I figured that out when you didn’t arrest me, doc.”

“Yeah…” sniffing the air on reflex as you draw air in to keep speaking, you catch the faint scent of Rawst still lingering on his breath. “What I mean is, our Guild Card airs a lot of your dirty laundry. Erm,” does he know what laundry is? “It shows a lot about you,” you rephrase. “And your kinks and fetishes and uh, stuff like that.”

>Hustle Fitness: Disadvantage, Snooping (11, 16)

>Murdoch Fitness: Magic Tricks, Clumsy, Pushover, Psy Strain (9)

Before you can twist the card away to keep him from looking, his swift movement brings him up against your side. The black stripes of fur are very warm, from soaking in the sun. It doesn’t take much convincing from one of his paws that rests on your forearm. You give up on the idle consideration of sparing him the sight, and he reads his own card entry.

>Hustle Will: (19/10)

Hustle takes the news of his own below average intelligence with surprising grace and composure. “Ookay, yes! I see now why you’re not normal. What’s yours’ look like?”

>Hustle Fitness: Disadvantage, Snooping (19, 21)

>Murdoch Fitness: Magic Tricks, Clumsy, Pushover, Psy Strain (-1)

To be perfectly honest, the thought that he could manipulate the card manually to find you never occurred to you in the slightest. You simply stare as his paw touches the smooth surface of the Guild Card and slides along it, feeling for any method of control. The slide motion is enough, or maybe it is his intent. Slipping off of the surface like a tab on a PDA, his information is replaced by a display of your own Guild profile. “You like paws? That’s cute!” Hustle holds up his forelegs, flexing a set of coarse black beans in front of you. “I have paws! Do you wanna feel them?” Yes, of course.

“Yes, of course,” you slip out, then fumble over your tongue, “B-uh, um, not right now. You’re um, okay with this then? The weird stuff?” sliding the card back into your item bag before it causes you more embarrassment, you flutter your frills and feel a warmth under your scales that presses back against the sun, sandwiching your dermal layer mercilessly from both sides. Hustle nods. “Would you like to… um, how do y-you feel about exploring your kinks together sometime?”

Sudden pressure hits both sides of your face. Hustle squeezes your cheeks between his forepaws. “Oh, you’re so cute when your finny parts flap around like that!” He laughs. It’s a deep belly laugh, that turns into a light twinkling foam of bubbles as it strikes the surface. “I have so many potion things to show you. I’m going to kink you up!”

“You can do a lot of fun things with Berries,” a quiet voice from next to you reminds you of Darcie’s presence, still sitting in the sand at your side with her legs folded under her.

He’s going to fit right in around here. But will he stick around? Gently, you take his paws from your cheeks so that you can speak without mumbling through them. “Do you want to stay with us, then? I mean… you could. Or we could let you go once we clear up your bounty, or uh- our village should be far enough away to be safe from King’s men.”

“Could take him to his friend,” Gwen’s voice pitches in, from the shade. “With Larissa Guild.”

Hustle’s eyes light up. “I’d love to see Ester! See he’s okay,” his ears droop a little, with concern marking his wide eyes. The ears perk up again just as fast, but his eyes remain the same. “Doc. Buddy. Pal. Are you going to keep messing with the King?”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking, Psy Strain (14, 17/10)

Liking your snout, you think it over. “This could start getting dangerous…” he’s going to notice you, after this. And he’s going to notice Larissa too. The small measure of anonymity being new afforded you is going to disappear, and you will make an enemy of one of the most powerful and influential figures in this world. One who sits above a fawning metropolis, among scattered villages barely populous enough to be named, and lone survivalists in the wild like Mamachomp.

He cannot strike first against you. But the web of people you could call ‘friend’ is expanding rapidly. More rapidly than you can safely tuck them into a Guild Card, where he cannot strike against them first. That dream- memory? The thing that forced itself into your head and left a hole behind. You saw the kind of person he was- is. When you commit to this rebellion, for that is what it is, you will face a war. And wars are Victini’s game.

“I’m…” you swallow nervously. “I’m thinking about it.”

Hustle’s mouth hangs open, a pause.

>Hustle Will: Seen Things (12/12)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking, Psy Strain (5, 8/10)

You can’t tell for sure what holds his tongue, but it snaps before he does. “If you want to go after him, I-” he swallows. “I want to help somehow!” Taking a step back, he holds his paws together for a moment. They’re shaking. Then, he drops to all fours to steady them by force, still looking up at you. “He has mons down there,” much like Ester, whatever clouds veiled his true thoughts and memories have been blown away by joining the Guild. “And he was using my potioning to- to-” baring his teeth, Hustle grinds them together, jabbing his canines into his lower lip. It doesn’t bleed. “He- he said they were criminals, villains, did bad things. Somehow I was starting to believe him, it just felt like if he said so it was okay, it had to be okay if the King said it right? But I saw Ester down there. He used to come by my shop! We talked a lot back then. We were friends.”

“… Your love for your friend, is let you resist?” at some point, Gwen walked out of the shade to join you, seated nearby. Darcie is listening with rapt attention.

“No,” he says, a whisper. “I decided he was right, it was probably for the best and they would serve their sentence and it’d all be fine, right, all be fine. So I left with him and kept making potions.” This clearly isn’t the end of the story, but he needs a moment to recollect his thoughts. These memories are painful for him. They were numb before, anesthetized by the King’s charms, but he’s been slapped across the face with sobriety that’s just now starting to really set in. “That night I mixed myself up some of the real good stuff. Real high proof Bluk booze, doc, the kind you drink when you drink to forget. I drank until I forgot and then I passed out.”

“Once I woke up I stopped forgetting,” he continues after a breath. “My head was pounding. But I felt right- no, wrong? But the right wrong. I felt bad, it was wrong, what I was doing was wrong,” Hustle’s voice gets faster, along with his breathing. Gwen places a paw on his back, and strokes his erect bristles.

>Gwen Charm: Disadvantage, Not a Talker (20, 6/12)

Flinching at the sudden touch, Hustle moves away, beginning to pace a line in the reddish sand. “That’s when I went back down there and I broke him out. We ran. Sully saw us come out of the dungeon and he went after us,” he reaches up and pats the burnt patch of fur. “We split up and kept running. And kept running. When the headache went away I felt so weird and lost and confused.” Until, presumably, you came along and found him.

>Darcie Will: Advantage (8, 20/10)

>Gwen Will: Intimidation, Risktaker (6/6)

Darcie breathes out, “I’m so...” she’s about to offer a soft sorry, a well-meaning but empty platitude. Then a hardness comes into her posture, one that makes her already sharp features look even sharper. “I get it now. What you were trying to tell me,” locking eyes with you, Darce nods her head. “I get it now. I’m…” she’s looking for the right word. “It’s not like anything happened to me. I’m not mad. But you don’t get freaked out like he is from seeing normal bad,” her eyes lead you to Hustle, who’s stopped pacing and is sitting up listening to her now. “And I feel like I need to do something.”

“Right,” Gwen tells her. “You feel right.”

Turning the word over in her head, Darcie nods. “Feel right… righteous purpose, maybe, something like that.”

With a huff, Gwen nods. “Righteous purpose. Like it. Agree.”

>Darcie has gained the Righteous Purpose skill

>Gwen has gained the Righteous Purpose skill

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Psychic Interference (19/6)

There’s something in you, too. It feels like the residue around the sprained gap in your mind is ready to catch fire, like oil next to a candle. It doesn’t feel entirely like yourself. Like the meek human man who fell into a golden hoop and became a plaything in a divine game. You’re the candle, and it is from whatever pried you open in your sleep and dribbled King-thoughts into your unconsciousness.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Psy Strain (3, 1/12)

You could ignite it, if you wanted to, feed it to your flame and make it a part of your fire.

>You may accept the Righteous Purpose skill if you wish

Heart still pounding with the rollercoaster of second-hand emotion, you hear footsteps approaching and look up. Rusty is coming. You file away the rest of your questions for Hustle into the back of your mind, for after this meeting. Led by Spring, Rusty is flanked by Roxie and Astra. Dino and Leanne are there too, trailing a little behind. He’s watching their back, and she’s watching Astra’s back. “Guess you beat us to him, huh?” the Eevee’s voice is dimmed by disappointment, but not envenomed with resent.

“Yup,” you chirp, resting your claws on your broad reptilian haunches. “Fair and square.”

“He’s not even tied up or nothing,” Roxie observes with mild awe, her flowered ‘ears’ swaying above her in the wind. Pulling himself together under scrutiny, Hustle rubs at his eyes with the back of a paw and drops to all fours.

“That’s because,” wringing your claws, you glance between them. Astra’s glare makes you flinch a little. “He’s not our prisoner. We recruited him.”

Jutting out his lower jaw, Rusty gives you a skeptical side-eye. “Recruited him? Guess you’re like, giving him a pardon in exchange for working for you?”

“Guild can do that,” piping up, Dino waddles to the front. The Larvitar circles Roxie, patting his hard-plated chest with his claws. “They usually don’t cause it can be a rep hit.”

“Well,” your tail swivels with an earthy scraping sound, leaving a conical marking in the dust. “Yes, we did do that. But it’s more complicated than that.”

“He got suckered in by a sob story I bet,” vines easing Rusty over to make room for her to slip between him and Astra, Leanne cuts her way into the dialogue. Raising one of her leaf arms, she runs the backside beneath her snout. She’s examining Hustle closely. “The goon has cute eyes like that,” the Snivy observes.

“We can still contest them,” Astra’s eyes have met Gwen, each eager to test the other’s mettle.

Raising both of her arms Roxie hops into the midst of the two clusters, beside Spring. “Let’s take it easy. Murdoch was in the middle of saying something, let him finish.”

Thankful for the hush she brings, you clear your throat with a fist balled against it. “Uh, yeah. Sso, what do you know about the King of Tallspire?” you ask, gauging the field.

“Not a lot,” Rusty answers.

“That’s the one who posted the big bounty on that guy,” Dino informs him. “Well, his city did.”

“Pretty well-liked,” taking one hop back, Roxie holds her arms behind her back and leans to the side. “Tallspire is just about the biggest settlement anywhere, and it’s been prosperous under him. Arbor is the only real competition.”

“The Guilds have something to do with that prosperity too, you know,” Spring reminds.

“Of course, and the King lead one of them!” the Maractus laughs.

Chewing at the air, you explain, “We’ve noticed some suspicious things about him. I think people are being compelled to like him somehow, but it doesn’t work on Guild members. And I- I have people who can back that up in my Guild, and in the M- mm, tha-nother Guild. In the Windmill Village,” you manage to catch yourself before letting slip Larissa’s patron. As you speak, you see Astra’s eyes narrow, and Leanne’s tongue hangs in the air for a moment after it flicks between her lips.

It's her, Leanne, who speaks first after your explanation. “It’s funny, now that you mention it I can’t pin a vine on why I always thought he sounded so nice. Considering I’ve never met him,” she waves one of her hands, walking closer to you. “What more can you tell me?” You can see in her eyes, she doesn’t like the thought of being under someone else’s thumb. And it’s a look reflected in Astra’s, just past her.

>Rusty Will: Disadvantage, Fear of Commitment (2, 4/12)

“I guess that is pretty weird,” Rusty waffles a bit, looking away with his ears drooping. “Look. If this is a whole Kanto situation, I really don’t want to get someone like that on my back. Maybe we should just-”

“I want to hear it,” he’s cut off by Leanne.

“Me too,” Astra agrees. “Plug your ears, if you want.”

>Tell them the whole truth?

>Leave them out of it?

>Your further questions for Hustle and suggested side tasks will continue in the next update, after the exchange with the Jirachi Guild.

Chapter Text

Biting his lip, Rusty meets the forceful looks of Astra and Leanne. You could push harder, and bring him to one mind with this purpose. Yet your own uncertainty causes you to pull back, clutching your claws together, tongue frozen in place.

>Righteous Purpose: Tied, 1 Hesitant

>Tiebreaker: Murdoch Will: Hesitation, Pushover, Dependent, Psy Strain (14/14)

A conflagration still teeters on the edge. Midnight oil tempts the flame, each lick reflecting a brilliant shimmer. You want to feel what Gwen feels, to let it bring you closer to her. You want to feel what Darcie feels, that natural inclination to leap into the right thing despite the risk. You want to get angry- he hurt your friend in ways no one should be hurt, you are angry- but you want to get angrier.

But is that what Murdoch would want? Or is that what it would want? The thing you still know nothing about that violated your mind and left it wounded. Would it even be righteous, when if it feels so hungry?

You will remain you, and nothing else. You pull away.

Sucking in a breath, you realize you’d been holding it in. Some red dust sucks into your snout, and you hack and cough.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage (7, 16/10)

That cough turns into a sneeze, releasing a sudden puff of sparks onto the dry ground. No vegetation to catch alight, not for many yards. A palm against your shoulder, and part of your chest, steadies you. “You good there, fearless leader?” Spring asks, with a smirk. “We’ll need to get the two of you some noseplugs next time we foray out into the desert.” An indignant huff from nearby answers her.

Reasserting your will has left you feeling clearer in the head. The last of the lingering cloud hanging around your ears has dissipated into near nothing. “I’m- yeah, good, sorry,” blinking your eyes to clear away the dancing lights following the sneeze, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand out of reflex, then wipe the hot results on your kilt. Swallowing to wash away the dryness of the particles on your tongue, you once again take in Rusty’s lack of conviction. Ears drooping, tail low, tiny sharp teeth biting down under the pressure of Astra and Leanne, who stand over him now. His partner, Dino, has a claw on his shoulder.

When it comes to leading, you can see Rusty struggles. His ambitions are certainly lofty, but it’s a glass confidence, easily cracking under the weight of real danger. If his patron put him here to grow, like you- and like Larissa- he needs to learn to stand on his own two feet. Four paws. “I can’t force you to get involved if you don’t want to,” you say, with a different sort of resolve. “And y-you two,” you stammer as Astra’s gaze settles on you. More spit swallowed down. “Shouldn’t be- shouldn’t try to strongarm him, either. This is Rusty’s decision.”

“He’s right,” with a squeeze of Rusty’s shoulder, Dino buoys him. “We’re partners, I’m with you whatever you decide.”

>Murdoch Charm: Dealmaking, Cunning Linguist, Supported, Pushover, Female Salandit (17)

>Dino Charm: Advantage, Quiet, Pushover (14)

>Astra Will: Advantage, Female Salandit (10, 20)

>Leanne Will: Disadvantage, Flippant (11, 2)

>31 vs 31, Tiebreaker: (12/10)

Brushing a leaf across her cheek, Leanne rolls her eyes and looks away, cowing under the backlash. “Whatever,” she petulantly dismisses the topic, walking back and giving Rusty some room.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking (17, 9/8)

Swift dismissal on Leanne’s part is a defense against seeming too involved. Leanne’s tail remains perked up even as she closes her eyes and looks away, she’s attentive and listening. This situation is still more important to her than she wants to let on.

On the other hand, Astra stretches open the sides of her jaw, letting trickling trails of flame and smoke leak out. “Do not order me, boy,” a rattling hiss warns you.

“No. You back off, stink lizard,” taking a step forward from your side, Gwen meets Astra with an aggressive stance of her own. “No,” lifting her head, Gwen looks down her snout at Astra, “Better. Come with me. We can...” the weight of her delivery is diminished by a pause as she seeks the right word. “Settle this.” Treading to the side, she flicks her tail in challenge at Astra, whose eyes widen and slits narrow in agitation. A meaningful glance is thrown back your way, to tell you Gwen is using their rivalry to get Astra out of your way.

Now you can talk to Rusty without the two of them complicating matters. If they push too hard, he could panic and shut down. That’s not good for anyone.

Walking up to him, you rest back on your haunches and look him in his eyes, which avoid yours’. He’s nervous, and maybe a little ashamed about his own reluctance. “I’m going to tell them the whole truth,” you tell him. “They want to know. If you don’t, I can take the two of them aside.”

“They would just tell me anyways,” his voice lacks the exasperation that would mark it a complaint. “And I mean, they are right. This is something we should know, whatever we… whatever I decide to do with it,” capitulating the point to an absent arguer, Rusty nods his head and lets his ears perk back up, finally finding your eyes. “Thanks for that, though, man. Not letting me get bullied into it.”

>You have outgrown the Pushover Incompetency

One final pat on his partner’s shoulder, and Dino lets his stubby arm rest against his round, shelled belly. “Guess we just wait for the girls to get it out of their system.” Everyone’s eyes go to the show. An impromptu semi-circle has formed on the edge of the fight. Rushing over, you nervously take a seat next to Hustle. You feel torn between confidence in Gwen and worry about them getting hurt. At least nobody really get hurt here, you reason to yourself.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Combat (16, 18)

>Astra Fitness: Advantage, Combat (21, 18)

>Astra went first

>Astra uses Sweet Scent: Lewd Advantage, Combat (7, 17/8)

>Gwen uses Tackle: Fitness Advantage, Combat, Righteous Purpose, Sand Sensitivity (3, 14/8)

At the moment you sit down, Astra is sent sailing through the air and tumbles along the ground, kicking a puff of red into the air. A familiar aroma is hanging heavy over the area. When you breathe it in, it sinks into your lower body, immediately forcing you to pull down your kilt to avoid making the tent obvious. Droplets of moisture dot the dirt behind Gwen as she circles Astra.

>Astra has sustained a minor injury

More than just the friendly wrestling match she had with Spring, Gwen is really going at it with Astra. Using her tail as a springboard, Astra flips herself into the air and cartwheels back onto her feet, landing in a broad stance in anticipation of Gwen’s charge. Mouth opening wide, the lizard flexes a tube inside of her mouth and spits a noxious purple ooze that streaks through the air like the discharge of a water pistol.

>Astra uses Toxic: Combat, Sweet Scent (4/6)

>Gwen uses Bite: Fitness Advantage, Combat (11, 17/8)

Diving forward, Gwen flattens herself to the ground. Flecks of the corrosive liquid fleck the thick fur coat of her back, leaving smoking hairs that send your heart jumping into your throat. It’s not real. It’s real, but it’s not real, you have to remind your human self.

Jaws clamp shut on Astra’s leg, and Gwen yanks her to the side. The opposite footclaw grabs onto Gwen’s cheek, and Astra pries her mouth open long enough to slip her foot free.

>Astra has sustained a moderate injury

With her flowers pulled tightly shut in tension, Roxie shouts at her teammate, “That’s enough, c’mon, you’re already going to be limping the whole way,” an angry motion with her claws points out her own lack of legs. “Girl, you expect me to carry you back? It’s going to be one of the guys carrying you around like a damsel.”

>Roxie Charm: Advantage (19, 16)

>Astra Will: Advantage (18, 7)

Feet poised to leap, Gwen stares Astra down, teeth bared and fully prepared to keep going if she makes one wrong move. For a moment you think he’s going to open her mouth to spit another wad of toxic slime in Gwen’s face using the moment of distraction, but instead her tongue forms a smoothly venomous “Fine.” True to Roxie’s observation, Astra limps on her foot, bloodless red marks left behind by Gwen’s chompers. She doesn’t step away. Instead, she drags herself in front of Gwen, then lies down on all fours and lowers her head. Each of her frills settles flat against the curve of her spine.

Letting air out of her nose, Gwen wordlessly adjusts her feet, brining them back together into a less aggressive stance. With some kind of pecking order ritual apparently established between the two, Astra stands up, leaning into her good hindleg. Nostrils flare, detecting the scent of dripping des. “Would you like to use me?” Your cock twitches at the mere thought of her offer, but Gwen shakes her head.

“I have my own.”

A mirrored puff of air, accompanied by lavender trails of smoke, escapes Astra’s nose. She trudges her way back to Roxie’s side, temper tempered by a sag of defeat.

“Guess that’s that,” seated on your other side, Rusty shakes his head, which causes his big ears to flap around and accidentally smack you in the face. “Sorry, dude. Okay, are we all listening? Murdoch is going to… share what he learned,” thin uncertainty still gilds the fox’s voice, but he plants his butt on the ground and offers you his attention.

Everyone gathers around you, now. Being the center of attention is still nerve-wracking, but you’re getting a little more accustomed to it. It’s easier when they’re people you know. “I first became aware of the King’s, um, sh-shadiness when we went after this outlaw Morgrem over in Windmill Village,” you recount the tale. “The guy we found… he wasn’t anything like an outlaw, or, n-not like you’d think an outlaw would be. Really out of it, crying. And one of the Windmill Guild’s members knew him, said it didn’t add up.”

In her usual lopsided stance, Spring picks at her ear and glances into the sky. “Didn’t think much of it at first. He was supposed to be a druggie or something.”

“As far as I can tell the only ‘drugs’ he was buying were normal potions from Hustle,” you add, quickly.

Swaying from side to side, Roxie chimes, “You have to admit, with a nickname like Hustle you’re just asking for that kind of impression.”

“That’s just my name!” the goon cuts in.

Clearing your throat, you pull back their attention. “The Windmill Guild decided to believe him, they recruited him to clear his bounty. And then he got a lot clearer in the head and,” you run a claw along your own as you stumble for a moment on your breath, forgetting to breathe while you talk. After gulping down another lungful of air, you continue, “He mentioned the name Hustle. At the time, he was supposedly wanted for helping Hustle escape from the King…”

“But I helped him escape!” Hustle interrupts again.

You nod. “Right. One more thing King was lying about.” All a network of misdirection to disguise what he was really doing. He lies even when the people under his spell would listen to him anyways- is it all part of some kind of game to him? “So, there’s another guy in my Guild,” you carry on. “He was one of the King’s maids and, um, s-sex maids. After this happened, he told me about how abusive and manipulative the King was when they were, uh, associated.” An expression of disgust forms on Roxie’s face.

“And the third story is Hustle here,” Rusty guesses, his tail lying curled around himself. You nod, again, and set a claw on Hustle’s back to encourage him to tell it himself.

“He was doing some really bad stuff to the Pokemon in his dungeons, and I think he used some of my potions to do some of them and,” the Zigzagoon swallows down a lump of guilt, mouth chewing at something else but not finding more to say. Leanne, now, has cracked her mask of detachment and let unfettered disgust curdle her expression.

“It’s alright,” plodding to his feet, the Eevee looks down into his namesake color below. It’s stained his fur by now, making him a ruddy red up his legs and butt, almost like a natural fur pattern. “At first this sounded more like organized crime, but it’s getting more and more like horror stories from the old monarchies.”

“Or modern businessmen,” you add, thoughts drifting to King’s true identity.

“Yeah. Just rich effed up people in general, you’re right,” he admits.

>Rusty Will: Disadvantage, Fear of Commitment, Stood up for Him (17, 9/10)

Tail brushing over the red sand, Rusty closes his eyes. “People like that- can we really do anything? We’d just be putting targets on anyone we care about, to get back at us.”

“The Guilds are ones who can,” Gwen voices your own thoughts before you can.

“The only ones,” you echo, with emphasis. “We’re the- the only ones he can’t charm over to his side.” Though Wade… you wonder what that prude would think if he knew the truth. “N-not with his powers, anyways.”

“I get it. I want to help, I just,” biting down again in an internal struggle, Rusty soon lets out a defeated sigh. “I’m too scared. I’m too weak right now. I lost to my first dungeon, man,” he finally admits, shamefully. “Roxie and Astra had to come in and bail us out. First thing I need to do is get my own stuff together, you know?”

Shuffling his feet, Dino suggests, “What if we help anyone escaping the King to hide out here? Leanne can grow food fast with her Growth move, and we can bring them water from the oasis. We don’t have to get publicly involved.”

>Dino Charm: Advantage, Compassion (11, 11/8)

“That’s something we could do I guess,” the Jirachi Guild’s leader waffles about noncommittally, but then flaps his ears again when he sees Leanne start to open her mouth. “Okay. It’s clear my Guild wants to help, but it’s also my job to keep them safe so… we’ll do that for now, okay? Hide anyone who needs refuge from the big man.”

Smiling, you claps your foreclaws together. “That’d be great. It seems like they’re less addled by his influence the further away they get, so- so yeah, that’s great,” you babble in thanks.

“Actually, why don’t we set up, like- like a Guild group chat?” you suggest. “Except Wade, he sucks.” Rusty unconsciously cocks one ear as he raises the corresponding brow, the weight of the flappers causing his head to tilt on its own.

“Do you see any phones around here?”

“What’s a phone?” Roxie asks.

“No, no,” you wave your claws. “A psychic group chat. My Guild has a- well, it’s the guy from before I was talking about. He’s a telepathic Noibat and he can communicate over long distances. And the Windmill Guild’s leader is psychic too. Once they connect with you once, it should be possible-ish to reach them again. I mean, it’s um, it’s better if they’re close to you,” you kind of speedran that with Victor, “But it should still work. Or you could find a psychic too?”

He looks skeptical. “They must be really strong psychics to reach people that far away.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (10, 9/10)

You weren’t very familiar with psychics or even Psychic types back home. There were Abras around in the wild near the Daycare, but you never see them for more than a few seconds and that’s if they don’t see you first. Now that you think about it though, it does seem far. If you hadn’t experienced it yourself you might have been more skeptical.

“Well, it works,” Spring says while you’re lost in thought. “You can even feel the other person fuck, it’s pretty hot.”

Roxie giggles. “That does sound weird, but fun. It’s a shame the Outpost doesn’t have any Psychic types around.”

“We can give it a try,” Rusty acquiesces. “I’m curious to see if it actually works.” He treads closer to you, and holds out a paw. You take it into your own, struggling with the urge to caress and feel his squishy beans.

>Murdoch Will: Supported (11/8)

Closing your eyes, you picture Victor in your mind’s eye and go through the now familiar process of touching his mind with your own from afar…

>Anything further to discuss with Victor and Larissa at this time?

>Current plans on the agenda to follow are: Giving Mamachomp a massage on the way back, and possibly rest in the shelter of the labyrinth while getting to know your new friends

>Remaining questions for Hustle will be asked during travel conversation

>You will try to reach Hoopa next time you sleep

Chapter Text

When telepathic contact is made, you are greeted not with the sensory overload that last troubled your aching head. Instead, you find a gentle blanket of warmth draping over you, your breath coming in heavy and slow as if weighed down by humid air. Victor is relaxing in the hot springs. The bat’s thoughts are clouded, sifting through half-ideas on the edge of sleep.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (18, 10/10)

In spite of every relaxing sensation shrouding Victor’s body, he doesn’t feel perfectly relaxed. His stomach is tense, and a colorless ink-thick smoke of uneasiness swims around his ears. Victor shoves it back into the confines of his skull when he sits up to address your connection. ~Murdoch, you feel much better today. I will keep things tame, that we avoid a repeat of our last connection.~

~Oh, no-no, that was partly my fault. In the beginning, I started the telepathic fooling around,~ you gently assuage. Victor, you notice, is alone in his bath. No faint presence nearby affecting the water, no feathered tail draped across his back. ~Did things not go well?~ you ask, with a hint of concern born of the uneasiness you felt in him.

~Things went great,~ he quickly responds, but it’s absent the excitement you would expect from that statement. Mentally, and physically, he swallows down his nerves. ~I guess it just feels hard to believe. Hard to accept that things might be good,~ Victor admits, shifting his position in the water to slide down onto his back, warm water streaming into his giant ears and sinking them like overflowing bowls. Wingtips set on the shallow stone basin underneath him keep the weight of his wet fur and ears from dragging him down too far, and stinging his eyes. King’s ghost still haunts him. ~We agreed to see each other again. Now, he’s gone back to work. Digging for fossils to bring in new villagers. The priestess is hoping that your success will allow us to expand to another footprint, and begin building a sister village.~

He's skillfully changed the subject. ~M-my success?~ Has your reputation been growing that quickly?

~She is optimistic,~ Victor clarifies. ~But yes, the delivery orbs were talking quite a bit about the impression you left on their boss. Quite the little chatterballs, they are.~ His attention shifts. ~But who is your new friend?~

Lingering on the edges of the connection, Rusty’s presence feels imperfect. The static interference of Larissa’s crackling anxiety doesn’t fudge his words, but his voice is quiet, as if heard through a microphone that is too far away. In the real world, he’s got his eyes screwed shut in concentration, ears perked up high, straining to hear.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (3, 10/10)

More than physical distance alone, and more than unfamiliarity. Like the bubble of air between windowpanes, creating an insulating layer to shut out the heat and the cold. Scared to let people in, maybe, or just understandably guarded against his mind being peered into. It’s a fear you’re newly acquainted with. ~I’m the leader of Jirachi’s Guild,~ Rusty introduces himself. ~Rusty. Nice to meet you…~ he trails off, creating an opening.

~Victor,~ the Noibat fills it. ~If we are meeting formally, I take it we have another friend in one of our competitors?~

~Yeah, Rusty is c-cool,~ intrusive thoughts bubble to the surface in spite of yourself. Fast friends, born of heady pheromones and lowered inhibitions. You’ve yet to get a taste of what he has to offer personally, but that doesn’t stop you from imagining, ~I wonder what c-cool form he’ll evolve into,~ and it leaks out through you as breath. Steamy smears across the glass.

~Oh, I have no idea,~ laughing aloud, Rusty curls his toes against the sand. He’s muttering his telepathic words under his own breath, the somatic reflex unconsciously carrying through. ~Hard enough picking what form to take, from the ones I was offered. This one kept my options open, you know? I guess Espeon would be convenient to make this whole telepathy thing easier, it seems really convenient if it’s really this easy! On the other hand, the color is a little gay. Um, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just not my style, you know?~ If he’s picked up on your lewd thoughts, he’s doing his best to ignore it.

~Before we, uh, get too far off course,~ you interrupt, ~I was hopping to get Larissa in on this call too. So we can get the three friendly Guilds in contact with each other, talk about some of the… s-serious stuff.~

>Victor Will: Advantage (17, 8/10)

A weight comes off of your temples in increments of pebbles, mounting into a pile of pressure gone, your awareness born only in its absence. Victor shoulders more of the bandwidth of the telepathic call you initiated, and you feel it become quieter. Less ambient thoughts and noise bleeds through. He takes the precaution without a word. ~Allow me, then.~

She feels better. When Victor first reaches out, Larissa’s natural psychic potency is rather like the hard, thick shell of a nut- or a Squirtle. Once she identifies who is reaching out to her, she parts the shell. More like a Cloyster, then. Just enough to look out. ~Victor… and Murdoch. And…?~

~Rusty,~ Rusty repeats himself. ~I’m the leader of Jirachi’s Guild. Murdoch and I are getting to be friends.~

~Oh,~ a mental image of glowing eyes analyzing him, a piercing gaze seeing well through his glass box. ~Okay. Did you need something?~ This, directed at you. Past the shell of her mental guard, you can feel something leading her along. She’s on the move, distractedly reaching you here as you’d done in Tallspire- lead by the girls while speaking to Victor.  ~Michael will be… there, soon. The desert village.~

Rusty reminds her, ~Sweetwater Outpost.~

~Yes.~

~You’re, still not coming yourself?~ you confirm, thoughts directed at her sense of motion. When you peer too closely, she pulls the shell tighter.

~Just going for a walk. It’s good to… get comfortable with the rest of the village,~ Larissa expresses, as if repeating someone else’s words. You’ve a reasonable guess whose. ~Did you need something?~ she repeats, bluntly, with an edge that says she doesn’t really enjoy social calls.

You fold your claws and look back at Hustle. He’s wearing a dopey smile, tongue lolling out, and playing drums on his stomach. ~We found Ester’s friend! How is Ester doing?~

~Not great…~ she soberly murmurs. ~He gets… nervous, around the tools. I got him to help move materials around instead.~ The mental image of her expression tilts to the side. ~He is doing a bit better.~

~Good, that’s good,~ teetering around the topic, you search for a way to broach opposing King. ~Has he mentioned anything about his experiences, like uh, b-before he ran away?~

Larissa’s tone is flat, ~Didn’t ask,~ she scratches beneath one of her ears, and you can faintly feel a sense of satisfaction from a banished itch. ~Was pretty traumatizing. I can… feel it. He’d just… rather forget.~

It’s not a very promising answer for setting up your sales pitch, and you wring your claws together. ~I was actually thinking of putting together a sort of Coalition of Guilds, to oppose the King who was putting out those fake bounties. He- h-he abuses his employees,~ you ‘look’ at Victor in the mental call, who takes a deep breath and nods. ~And has been lying and- and he’s been playing games with peoples’ lives. He sucks super hard.~ Still listening, she doesn’t respond yet. You swallow, even though you haven’t opened your mouth. ~Rusty is going to help hide any of his victims we- I mean, my Guild- can get away, in the desert. And I’ll, um, well. I’m not sure yet. Still figuring that out, but I want to take the fight to him… somehow. So, anything you’re willing to do to help…~

>Murdoch Charm: Dealmaking, Supported (6/6)

>Larissa Will: Disadvantage, Social Anxiety (12, 13/12)

Already, you can tell she agrees. There’s a clear, radiating sensation of dislike. It’s like the feeling of forcing yourself to eat food you don’t enjoy, because you’re hungry. Larissa doesn’t want to get involved. You can tell. The idea of engaging with this situation is enough to send the edges of her image shuddering with vibrations and static, and her frown deepens, darkening. ~People like that suck… I don’t really know what we can do though.~

~Even just keeping an eye out for more escapees and sending them my way would help, I guess?~ Rusty suggests off-handedly. He’s been sitting back and letting you do most of the talking.

~Anything you could do the spread the truth through art or propaganda sort of stuff?~ you add.

~Unclear how well propaganda would work against the King’s following in Tallspire,~ cutting in, Victor voices his own ideas. ~His charms are potent. I know that firsthand. I suspect the greater the proximity the more powerful his influence. Or maybe it has to do with frequency of interactions refreshing the effect,~ he hypothesizes. You’d had some of the same thoughts. ~If you intend to spread word against him, I would target settlements further away from Tallspire. If naught else, perhaps you will inform more Guilds, and bring them into this coalition.~

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (7, 10)

Recalling something from Hustle’s description of events, you add, ~Hustle was able to see through some of King’s charms when he was hungover.~ How could an artisan’s Guild apply that though? ~Bar decorations?~

>Larissa Intelligence: Advantage (14, 17/10)

Larissa considers the ideas laid out on the figurative table. ~Okay… who knows, if he’s charming people…~ she trails off for a moment, thinking to herself. ~Mesprit may have an ability to offer that would help.~

Her agreeing to help brings a smile to your face. A shiver runs down your back when you feel someone playing with your perked up neck frills, and you look back to see that it’s Hustle. “Sorry, just a sec Hustle, um, y-you can play with those later I need to- to focus right now,” you tell him. He draws his claw back. ~That’s right, I’m sure if anyone can help it would be the spirit of emotions,~ you respond to Larissa’s thought. ~Is it okay if Rusty and I reach out telepathically if we, um, ever need anything or learn something?~

~If it’s important… I guess,~ she acquiesces. ~Don’t do it too often.~

Apparently determining the conversation to be resolved, she breaks off the connection, leaving you ‘alone’ with Victor and Rusty.

~Is that all?~ Rusty asks awkwardly after her disappearance.

~I have a couple more things to talk about with Victor. I think that’s all for you, though,~ you answer, and he opens his eyes, falling out of the mental connection. Awkwardly hanging nearby, uncertain whether to walk away and leave you starting into space or not, he eventually opts to pad away and join a chat off to the side with some of his teammates.

~With me?~ your Noibat pal asks, demurely, swaying his body from side to side in the warm water. ~Is it something fun, or- no, perhaps not. I would not wish to cause you more harm. I look forward to seeing you in person again, Murdoch, I’ve missed you.~ Laughing to himself, he adds, ~Even if it’s only been a few days. Is that strange?~

You imagine sliding your arms around him to float on the bubbling currents of the spring’s natural jet, and you shake your head. ~It feels like it’s been forever out here. Maybe that’s just a uh, time dilation thing or- something, from the weird psychic migraine?~ you ponder. ~Anyways, I miss you too. It’ll be nice to see you in person again.~ Taking a deep breath, you feel some anxiety bubbling up again. ~Will you be safe on your own? Maybe we should start traveling together.~ He hums inquisitively, wanting you to clarify further what you mean. ~If King finds you, would he hurt you to get back at me?~

Victor shudders. ~He would. If he could. Right now, we have yet to take any steps against him that would warrant a self-defense argument for that sort of interference with your Guild. As a member, I should be safe. I would be more worried about anyone you become too close to in Tallspire, publicly. They are well within his reach and means to do with as he pleases, and they would scarcely resist.~

Worriedly, you hum to yourself in agreement. Some of those rumors spreading might not be such a good thing after all. Right now, King shouldn’t know you’re getting involved with his marked outlaws on purpose. But he will know they can talk once they join the Guild. Which means he’ll know you know- no, no, you curb that panic spiral before it starts. ~I guess I should get moving,~ you say, reluctantly pulling away from the warm feeling of the hot spring. ~And if I’m lucky, I’ll see you soon Victor.~

~See you soon, Murdoch,~ he replies fondly, and your mind falls back into the moment in front of your eyes. A cactus leaning in and staring you in the face, waving a yellow-needled claw.

“You look pretty funny zoned out like that. You two could be twins,” Roxie tilts her head towards Hustle, who’s still sitting at your heel, and she giggles at your two dopey looks. You notice Gwen is lying down beside you on the other side, her head on her paws and nose twitching. “We were just about to head back to town. I wanted to apologize again for Astra, she really can be a handful,” with a gentle smile, the Maractus stands back up, her ears lolling horizontally at her side like bouncy pigtails. “If it’s any consolation, I think your poochy pal secured her spot as top bitch, so Astra should behave a bit better now.“

“Hmph. Better,” Gwen grunts.

Roxie hops back towards her Guild, who are arranged together in the direction of town. Rusty flicks one of his ears back and forth a few times, a kind of wave. “Catch you back in town, dude.”

“See ya Darce,” turning away and walking, Leanne waves at the Skorupi over her shoulder. Darcie swings her tail back and forth in response. Everyone else falls in behind them, and Spring strolls over to you while giving them one casual wave.

“Where to, fearless leader?” the Chimchar asks, leaning on the curve of Darcie’s tail.

“I kind of promised a big scary Garchomp a massage,” you say, twiddling your claws together. “So um, that. And then back to town for some much-needed rest and relaxation.”

“Amen to that,” Spring reaches down and slaps your ass as she passes, taking the lead. Gwen bounds up from the ground to catch up and walk beside her.

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (10/8)

Gwen refuses to cede the point entirely, but Spring’s role as navigator is not disputed, with the best sense of direction out of all your teammates. You comfortably trot behind them, tail swaying behind you, comfortable enough now that you barely notice it when you aren’t paying attention. “It sure is bleak around here,” musing aloud, you take a look around at the barren terrain.

“I like it,” ahead of you, Gwen’s rough voice speaks up.

“Oh? Why’s that?” you wonder. “Thought you’d prefer somewhere less, um, dusty? After all the-”

She huffs. “Yes. The dust and the sand is annoying.” Her eyes wander, taking in the tall green towers of a cactus passing your entourage by. “And plants here are unfriendly,” she briefly flexes her once-thorned paw as she walks.

“What’s not to love,” sarcastically, Spring sways her hips to the side and leans over Gwen’s head. “Your like and dislike get mixed up in there?” When she reaches over to rap on Gwen’s head with a finger knuckle, Gwen snaps her jaws, and Spring retracts quickly with a naughty chuckle.

Clearing her throat, Gwen turns from Spring to look back at the cactus falling behind. “Still, is…” she searches for a word. “Impressive. That they grow at all. I can respect them.”

“The jumping one is kind of cute,” Hustle points out.

“And the dirt. Sand, dust,” ignoring his comment, Gwen looks down at the ground, shuffling around words to find what best describes it. “Strange. I have never seen a red land before.” Her left ear twitches, down and to the side. Then she looks up, at the pillars and arches. “Strange color. Strange shapes. It is… it has,” linguistics again escape her to describe what she’s feeling. “An unusual good to look at?”

“An alien allure?” you posit.

“Mm, maybe.”

Craning your neck to look back, you ask, “What about my frills?” They wiggle when you focus, you wonder if it’s something some Salandits can just do like people wiggling their ears. “Are they really c-cute?”

“Oh definitely! You can play with them like pointy ears!” Hustle points out.

“I dig ‘em,” Spring agrees.

“What are they made of? Are they scaly?” Darcie wonders. You wonder too, and reach up to feel them. They’re a different texture from the scales of your neck and face despite being very similar in color, kind of leathery, like Victor’s wings.

You report as much, “They’re kind of like bat wings.” Maybe ancient Salazzle were winged lizards, once upon a time. But for all the positive feedback, the one you really wanted to hear from is still thinking it over, her eyes looking up into the harsh blue desert sky.

At last, Gwen says, “They are nice.” Then, she purrs softly in her throat. “Like the tail more.”

“My tail?” you ask. It sways behind you.

Hers’ sways too, moving side by side and giving you a glimpse of that familiar black spade between her legs, dribbling with pearls of moisture, her body keeping it slick to spite the dry desert air. That bout with Astra and the proximity to her raw pheromones has Gwen excited. “Your tail,” she repeats. “Like the weight of it. Feel it when you thrust.” You blush. “Hff,” Gwen huffs heavily. “Will be struggle to not jump on you. With Garchomp. Look forward to tonight.”

Snapping her finger, Spring speaks up again, “Hey, um,” there’s uncharacteristic nervousness in her voice. “That thing you and Murdoch did before, when you were both licking me at once…”

“Want we do it again?”

“No- well, sure. But I was wondering if I could return the favor. Me and Murdoch get in there for some foreplay, before the main event?” she suggests. “I was gonna suggest we switch places and he pump me this time, but I wouldn’t deny you after that scrap with the bitch lizard.”

“Smart of you,” Gwen says matter-of-factly.

Trailing behind for a while, Hustle lives up to his name with several hefty bounds to catch up, panting. “I can lick you,” he offers.

Shooting a finger back at him, Spring winks. “Definitely, that tongue looks fun.” Pulling her arms back, she looks off into the horizon and sways her hips back and forth. “We still got to fuck you into the gang if you’re sticking around, big guy. After, though. I want the three of us to do our thing, then we go for seconds.”

Quiet falls for several minutes, the cycle of feet in front of feet and the sound of Darcie’s skittering footfalls occupying the void. Along the way, you keep an eye out for any cacti or other plants with Berries growing on them you could divert to and pick.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (11, 14/10)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking (9, 8/8)

It nearly escapes your eye, until you see part of the desert floor shifting and swaying, casting shadows that shouldn’t be there. The plant is a dark, brown-red that matches the terrain well, a natural coloration enhanced by its life in the wild absorbing coatings of the ground-dust from windstorms and dust clouds passing by. You drift away from the group and manage to forage one just-ripe-enough Figy Berry from its jagged, curved branches. Mustard yellow with splashes of red like bloody marks cut into its flesh, the Berry is long and weighted down by a heavy tip full of thick, crunchy, hollow flesh and clusters of seeds which carry a strong spice. Their flavor pervades the fruit flesh, giving it a spicy kick, but the seeds themselves are strong enough you’d need to dilute their powder before cooking with them unless you want your guest spewing fire from their mouth and begging for some milk.

Catching up in a rapid reptilian scurry, you wrap the Berry in some cloth to keep the spice from contaminating the rest and tuck it into your bag, then pass the fabric container back to Gwen. “Found something for cooking!” you say. “Say Hustle, are Figgies good for potions at all? Do potions and, and cooking overlap much? I mean, both using berries and all.”

>Hustle Intelligence: Disadvantage, Advantage, Trained Advantage, Potionmaking (19, 9/8)

“Oh oh, yeah,” excited to be included, he huddles up beside you while you rejoin the procession. “Those babies are real rare, doc, buddy, let me tell you. A good money-maker. Only grow out in places like this. If you concentrate up the powder in a juice with some red Apricorn powder mixed in, you’ll get a potion that supercharges your type stuff.”

“Red Apricorns?”

“Yup. Right kind of Apricorn can enhance all the natural stuff in a Berry and make it go more without more Berry, so you can use less Berry to concentrate a potion. Different stuff in the Berry reacts to different Apricorn mixes. Potions take a lot of really dense Berry juice otherwise and with rare Berries like this it’s just too much, can’t make a potion, nope. Got to get some Apricorns,” the goon explains in a flurry, his tongue flying through the words.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Magic Tricks (8, 9/6)

You remember some of this, vaguely, now that he brings it up. Apricorns and Berries are vital to the native Johtoan practice of alchemy that lead to the development of modern amenities like the Silph brand Potion trainers typically use, and of course the almighty Pokeball. Some things are common knowledge nowadays, like Chestos’ high caffeine content. The more esoteric sciences and the ancient Johtoan religious practices surrounding the art aren’t as familiar to you.

“Oh, um. Think we could grow some of these, with th-this one for seeds?” you ask Darcie.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Gardening (6, 20/8)

Like a spring ready to launch, the scorpion just behind answers you immediately. “You need hard, dry soil for them to grow. If the soil is too soft, the shallow roots will come loose and the heavy bush will fall over,” she explains. “And you can’t water them too much. They’re really attuned to the dry climate, and they’ll absorb more water than they need which will drown the plant.“

Licking your snout, you flinch at the coarse dryness of the sand sticking to it. “Think they’d grow okay on the, the rocky plateaus around Groudon’s Steps?”

“Probably. I can take a look for good spots for each Berry you want to grow when we get there- Groudon’s Steps actually has a pretty wide variety of soil types, moisture and composition, if you want to grow a variety of Berries that’s actually a really good place to set up,” she chirrups cheerily. “Well, not the ones that really like the damp. Need a dedicated greenhouse for those. But we’ll have plenty of options. I can try growing some Apricorn trees too, I haven’t done much with them since they’re not great for eating, but they’re usually easier to grow than Berries. Although,” Darcie finally pauses. She’s a lot more talkative when she’s in her element, you notice. “Apricorn trees also take a lot longer to grow than Berries. Less needy, but not as fast. We could ask Leanne for help, or another Grass Type with Growth to accelerate the timetable.”

As the walk continues, you ponder on future plans and look forward to your next visit home.

>Murdoch Fitness: Fire Type, Supported, Occa Breakfast (17/4)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Occa Breakfast, Sand Sensitivity (2, 8/10)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Fire Type, Survival, Occa Breakfast (9, 9/4)

>Darcie Fitness: Desert Species, Diligence, Occa Breakfast (13/4)

>Hustle Fitness: Disadvantage (6, 9/10)

Red, packed earth gives way to shifting sand underfoot, on the path back to the stone monument in the desert. Each trail up the sliding slopes of the dunes is more tiring than the last for your two dark-furred companions, and Gwen once again suffers the worst of her sensitive nose and its incessant complaints. Dragging his chunky frame over the final crest, Hustle lets himself flop down and roll the rest of the way down the hill.

The labyrinth is in view now, and you can see two Gible playing in the sand outside under the watchful eyes of their Gabite sibling perched on the rooftop. The sand sharks are practicing their digging, or rather swimming through it as if it were as fluid as water. Where their swiftness beneath the surface is an impressive display, their agility and awareness leave much to be desired. Bumping into one another and the foundations of the labyrinth, they regularly pop up to rub their heads, and sometimes to chatter at one another- angrily after a collision, and mockingly when their sibling crashes alone.

Your approach doesn’t go unnoticed. The Gabite lets out a squeaking howl that deepens and sharpens into a pitched growl,  leaping from the roof and into the sand as easily as a Valoric high diver into a waiting pool below. A telltale fin emerges, and he glides in a swaying pattern towards you while his two siblings run back into the cover of their den’s doorway.

In a bursting cloud of sand, the Gabite leaps up and lands in front of you, knocking Hustle over and causing him to roll a few feet away from the force of the arrival. Sniffing the air, the Gabite looks at Hustle, cocks his head, and then looks at you. Gwen backs away to avoid startling him, since his posture is curious rather than aggressive. Relaxed leg stance, with his tail resting on the downward dune and occasionally tapping the surface of the sand.

“H-hello?” you greet him, nervously. “Erm. Is your mom home?”

“Mom,” he says. “Mother gathering water.” So he can speak. “What you want?”

“Well,” you rub your claws together. “I offered her a massage for- well, for all the trouble she’s had today. I’d like to make her day a little b-better.” And get a better feel of those thick, draconic muscles.

“Mother be back soon,” the Gabite’s tail sweeps the sand behind him, and he curves it, then jabs it in. His body sinks impossibly backwards into he sand, like someone walking backwards down the incline of an indoor pool. “Can wait. Stay outside.” Curling away, he slithers through the sand back towards his siblings- they’re still watching from the doorway.

After the day’s wild events and exhausting travels, it’s getting to be late afternoon, early evening. You could wait and chat for a bit with the others until Mamachomp gets back, or come back another day if you want to get back to town before the group from Larissa’s Guild goes to sleep.

Chapter Text

Lying on the decline of the sand dune, you bask under the orange sky, enjoying the last warmth of the falling sun. A tired sigh ripples the sand, causing it to stream away on either side of your snout. A tiring excursion, but you feel accomplished. “We should have brought an umbrella,” Spring takes a seat beside you, then purses her lips in immediate regret. “And a blanket.” Folding an arm over her knee, she looks out at the horizon. “This’d be a scenic spot to watch the sunset.”

“I need so many baths, sand is everywhere,” Hustle voices his agreement, spread eagle on his back in the same place that Gabite knocked him over. His upsidedown face makes his tongue loll out in front of one of his eyes. A series of dark lumps sits between his legs.

“Have good springs at home village,” treading down the slope, Gwen folds her legs underneath her and snuggles into your side in spite of the extra heat you must radiate. “Warm or cold. Good for a bath.”

“That sounds sooo good,” he drones.

Leaning against Gwen in turn, you hold up a claw towards Hustle. “Hey, Hustle?” Attention grabbed, he sucks his tongue into his mouth, then lets it slump out over his other eye, focusing the now-uncovered peeper on you. “I had this weird dream the other night, and… well, you mentioned the name Sully?”

“Uh, uhuh!” his bushy tail slaps against the sand heap underneath. “Yes, that guy. The fox guy. He’s the King’s sss-“ tongue dangling as he holds the sound, Hustle breaks it off and wiggles to shake his head, forming a rut beneath him. “Second or something like that, like he does all the passing orders out and stuff.”

Your claw plays in the sand, tracing out pathways that surrounding grains flow back down into. “My dream was about this- it was-“ you swallow, nervous about how this could come into play with the rules of the competition. It wasn’t Hoopa, you don’t think- no, it wasn’t him. His telepathy has always been much gentler than that. “It was about King before he became the King, and Sully was his Pokemon. Back when he was a- a human, like I was. Do you think he could be trying to contact me- or c-could he be asking for help to stop King?”

Mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ for several ticking seconds, Hustle processes the layers of information. “I don’t think so?” he guesses. “I guess he could be under that weird spell, doc, but he wasn’t… it wasn’t like the ones in the dungeon. Him and the other upper top people working for him, I mean me too mostly before the whole thing, it’s pretty nice and comfy living for them.”

“Victor said it was nice for him at first, too,” you mutter to yourself.

Something else about the dream and its aftereffects has been bothering you. “When you were telling us about wh- what- had happened, wh-what you saw, and Gwen and Darcie were getting all fired up-” you look up towards the top of the dune, where Darcie has perched herself. Gwen’s tail unconsciously swivels, papping into yours’ behind you at the mention of her name. “This… stuff,” only Hustle nods, as if he understands the exact level of indistinctness you’re referring to, “I could feel it in my thoughts,” you set your claws on either side of your head, swirling them around. “And it was like it was ready to catch on fire and get mad about the, the everything with King. I was able to pull back from it influencing me, but, um, I don’t know what it is. Whatever got in my head has been trying to push me pretty roughly towards going after King. I’m jus- I’m worried about who it is.”

“That is pretty freaky,” digging her toes into the warm sand, Spring looks over at Hustle. “Sometimes I wish I was part Dark, like him and Gwen. To keep freaks out of my head. Guess that’s not a total cure-all though, is it?”

Darcie clicks her tail thoughtfully. “If locking people up and abusing them for fun makes whoever it is mad, they can’t be all bad, right?”

“They hurt Murdoch,” Gwen interjects.

Averting her eyes, Darcie quietly suggests, “Could have been an accident.”

“Or they just don’t care,” Spring counters. “Wanting to take down someone worse doesn’t make them trustworthy, does it?”

“They could be trying to goad me into- into doing something dumb,” you add, clasping your claws together in front of your snout. “I hope Hoopa will know what it is.”

Silence reigns for a few minutes, as the remnants of the discussion die out for lack of any concrete answers. “I guess you must stumble into trouble a lot,” you look over at Hustle, who has sucked his tongue back in again and is in the midst of scratching his belly. “Any interesting stories, Hustle?” His eyes, once drooping open upside down, flutter back to full attention.

“Oh yeah. I learn all kindsa stuff,” he yaps back, “There’s the potions they ask for! Who wants kids, who doesn’t want kids. Who needs a little boost, you know,” he flips one claw up from the sand. “And… oh, and I look in windows I find sometimes just to see what’s there, and sometimes they aren’t very happy about that and chase me for a bit. And I hear things too! I like to listen at doors and stuff. That one’s better sometimes because they can’t see you like the windows.”

“Maybe he actually is a criminal,” Spring snarks, aside.

“Interesting ones,” heaving himself from side to side, Hustle rolls himself back over onto his belly, back now covered in a layer of sand. “Hum-hum, okay, I got one, buddy!” Sniffing, Hustle leans forward to whisper like a gossip, even though the only other people around are the rest of the Guild. “There’s a house in the city where farmers live. Not the plant kind, but the diving kind.”

“He means dungeon farming,” stepping in again, Spring clarifies. “Even besides Guilds, there’s folks who go into them to gather the resources that just appear inside. It’s a pretty old profession.”

“Mhm,” Hustle nods his head forcefully, accidentally smacking his chin on the ground. “Ow. So anyways, um, where was I? Right, the farmer house. There’s some farmers that live there, and I heard once about an old guy who got kicked out because he lost his soul. Like, that’s crazy right, how do you lose a soul?”

“Scary stuff,” you sit up in the sand, rubbing off what’s stuck to the scales of your underbelly. It could just be a ghost story, but you’ve experienced some weird phenomena lately, so you can’t dismiss it outright.

“Speaking of- f-farming,” you transition, looking back up at Darcie and waving a claw to invite her down. She crawls closer to join the team huddle on the duneside. “I was thinking, when we get back to the village. My plan is to use earnings from bounties and- and rescues, and build a resort and spa. Darcie will be a big help growing ingredients for food, and um, is there anything you’d like to do as part of the team Hustle?”

“If he was making money selling potions before, he could do that again,” suggests Spring, rolling over onto her side with her head resting atop her palm.

Ear flicking, Hustle wiggles his nose. “What is a resort and spa?”

“Fancy places for people to go and relax,” you clarify. “They have places to sleep with n-nice beds, and good food, entertainment and relaxation, and you can get b-beauty products and treatments,” as you list off the things you’ll need, you realize you might need to recruit a few more specialists if you want to create a really full spa experience. Even if they aren’t official Guild members, you should probably hire staff too, eventually. An entire resort can’t be run by seven people.

Hustle seems quite pleased with the idea. “I love it, buddy-doc! That sounds like a great place to live. Ooh, I can even help with the beauty products and stuff. Lots of potions I know how to mix up for that.” Reaching his hind leg up to scratch and scrape away some of the sand, he flops his tongue to the other side of his mouth. “This weather is terrible, my poor fur needs some good lovin’ too.”

It sounds like you’ve accidentally found someone who can source some cosmetic products for the spa already, and you smile. “Great! G-good to have you on the team, Hustle.” His complaints about the weather remind you that not everyone can handle the desert as well as the rest. “I’ve got one more question,” you hold out your claws and bunch them together into a ball. “Darcie and Hustle, do you think the two- the two of you could m-make um, Pokeballs?”

“I’ve got a nice pair of balls right here! Watch this,” lifting his backside up and twisting around to point it at you, Hustle sucks his tongue in and scrunches his face up in concentration. The lumpy mass of bumps under his tail flexes out, drooping into a pair of rather large balls that were apparently partially internal, and a fluffy sheath. Leaning forward, Spring jiggles one of them with her hand.

“Do got some heft,” she reports. “Maybe put those away while the dragonlings are watching though.” They probably can’t see much from all the way over there, but you do take notice. Maybe fooling around in front of them wouldn’t be such a good idea. You don’t even know how old they actually are.

Sucking his danglies back in, Hustle seats himself on the ground. “Sorry.”

“Well, um, they were very nice,” rubbing your claws together, you redirect the conversation back on track. “That wasn’t quite what I meant. Pokeballs are a h- a human invention, made from Apricorns. They can c-catch a Pokemon and hold them inside.” Hustle’s blank look doesn’t surprise you, and Gwen is just tilting her head in curiosity.

>Spring Intelligence: Obscure (20/14)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Obscure (4, 19/14)

Beginning to speak at the same time, Darcie and Spring both pause. Naturally, it’s Spring who takes the initiative to resume speaking first. “There are these artifacts that are found sometimes that work like that. Little spheres that can hold a way bigger Pokemon inside?” You nod. “Yeah, just like that. They’re found around the Sacred Forest sometimes, usually with a Pokemon already inside them.”

“There are stories that they were prisons from an ancient civilization everybody forgot,” gossips Darcie.

“I think if that was the case, the Pokemon from inside would have shared a little more,” rolling her eyes, Spring sits up. From what you know of the world’s history from Victor, it’s not exactly old enough to have ‘ancient’ civilizations, but there were past eras before the Legends built the Guild competition as it is now.

“Has anyone interviewed the Pokemon that came out of them?” you ask.

Spring just shrugs. “Probably. I’d ask more around that region if you want to know.”

“It’s getting pretty late,” not much later than when you arrived, all told, but you can tell Gwen and Hustle are anything but comfortable. “Spring, why don’t you take these two back to the inn?” you suggest. Then, sheepishly you ask, “Um, if you’re willing to st- stay out here with me, Darcie?”

“Of course I am,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“I’ll catch up later,” you cock your head towards the labyrinth. “After the, um, ap- pointment.“ Nervously anticipating what it might entail, you lick your lips.

Walking up to Gwen, Spring rubs her head affectionately. “How’s that sound? Let’s get you two furballs a bath, and wash out your nose.” Standing up beneath her hand, Gwen does not swat it away immediately, walking out from under it instead and letting it drag over her back.

“So long as you back,” trailing around to your other side, Gwen brushes possessively against you. “For us. Before bed.”

“Oh, yes,” you quickly agree, with an excited titter in your voice. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Good,” swatting your back with her tail, Gwen treads back up the dune. Spring stops to help Hustle up and joins her there. A series of farewell waves, and they trudge back towards the outpost.

With the crowd dispersed, Darcie takes a seat in her new spot near you, and you squat down yourself, angling your tail to not be riding up the slope as you try to get comfy. The angle makes your back hurt when you try to sit up.

“So…” getting to know Darcie better would be nice, but your usual topics of business and horniness have already been exhausted. “The way you get excited talking about, about plants is k-kinda cute,” you start, giving her a soft smile, which comes more easily than it used to. Her claws curl reflexively inwards. “Do you have any… other passions?”

“You know I like building things, I guess,” pittering and pattering around an answer, she swivels her eyes towards the structure on the horizon. “Nothing really impressive or fancy. Fences, baskets, simple pull systems that make it easier to move things around the garden… without hands, or opposable claws, as you can see,” she wiggles her sets of needle-like appendages in a wave down her body.

Lying sideways like Spring had done, you imitate her pose with a claw curled under your head. It’s a little less alluring and a little goofier, with your long snout sticking diagonally into the air and one eye peering down your face at her. Darcie makes a quiet, chittering giggle. “Getting that much done without opposable claws in the first place is- th- that’s already impressive!” you encourage her.

“It takes longer,” she extrapolates. “But seeing something come together is just really satisfying. Whether it’s seeing a plant grow from a little sprout into the literal fruit of your labor, or seeing a project go from scraps of wood and rope to something actually useful.” Looking thoughtfully at the sunset, she goes on, “I do like seeing others’ work too. Knowing the effort that goes into something, hearing about their thought processes. I would love to see some of the things your friend Larissa and her Guild have made.” It’s a good reason for a visit sometime, along with introducing her to your fungal friend and his feelers.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (19, 14/10)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence (7, 2/8)

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. Darcie hasn’t picked up on it, still looking thoughtfully at the sky, but a large stone bowl is moving over the sand at a slow, steady pace, filled with water that ripples and sloshes as it moves over the uneven terrain. The strong back underneath, its identity given away by the fin and single-clawed limbs that work together with the curves and arches of the spine to hold the cargo steady.

It must have been torn from a fountain or something, inside the building. Mamachomp brings the bowl to the doorway of the labyrinth, where Gabite helps her slide it off of her back and into the sand, their respective control forming an intent that it rests in comfortable. The mother surfaces and bends over, stretching, twisting her stiff back. It’s probably sore. Ripe for a massaging.

“She’s here,” you say to alert Darcie, getting up. She accompanies you to meet the land shark and her brood.

As you draw nearer, the Garchomp turns. Gabite has told her of your arrival, and her menacing eyes lock onto you. Gulping down nerves, you hold up a claw and wave. “Hello,” calling ahead, you stop a respectful distance away. “You must be tired after- a-after hauling all that,” you point at the bowl, which the Gibbles are drinking from while their brother holds them up to the lip.

“Your offer,” she wastes no time cutting to the chase, leaning down to slake her thirst for a moment before stomping towards you. Her height towers, forcing you to look up. Little trails of water run down her cheeks and drip from her chin, one landing on your snout. Sunset sky does look rather flattering framing her imposing figure. “That. Is why you come?”

“Y-yep!” you stammer. “One mm-massage for a hard-working m-ma-mother,” the Garchomp’s eyes travel to Darcie.

“I’m here to help him find his way back,” the Skorupi explains.

“Not that,” Mama grunts. “The rest. Where are they?” Looking around, she seems to think they might be hiding in ambush, or planning to sneak into her den.

Scratching your belly as you stare into the defined muscles rippling in hers’ with every motion, you stumble over your tongue, “They were- um, that is- they went back to get some rest. They f-felt- they were feeling tired after all the desert travel.”

Thankfully, her son comes to your rescue. “True. They left.” He raises his claw, indicating their direction. Soundly away from the den. Seemingly satisfied, the Garchomp lowers her stance and her tail rests more comfortable on the sand. Her Gabite lowers his siblings back to the sand and lowers his own head to drink from the supply of fresh water.

No more words are spoken on the established agreement, instead she lowers herself to the ground and lays on her stomach, arms spread to either side and eyes closed.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (18, 7/10)

Tentatively toeing your way to her side, you reach out a claw and test it against her hide. It’s coarse and scaly, but mercifully not sharp. Some Garchomp have far more pronounced shark-like hide that can cut into you like little razor blades if you rub them the wrong way. She must be more in-tune with the land than the shark. Taking a two-clawed grip on just one mass of muscles, you squeeze and dig in, feeling for knots. “M-my hands, er, my fingers- claws,” you speak, and one of her eyes opens, swiveling towards you. It feels like a predator staring you down from the bushes, even with her casual, loose pose on the ground. “I have an ability to make my t-t-touch tingle,” you rather clumsily explain. “What I mean is, it’s, it feels good. In an… erotic way? Do you want me to d-do that?“

Her breath flows over the sand, causing it to run like rivers. “No.” Well, she’s clear about what she wants, that’s something. Letting out a growl, she tells the little sharks, “Go inside. Alone time.” Two little Gibbles waddle inside, and with a final gulp of fresh water their brother treads after them to ensure they don’t wander back out.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported (10, 3/8)

>Murdoch Fitness: Thief King’s Fingers, Clumsy (15/10)

Even without turning on the tingle, Hoopa’s blessing makes your clawed fingers a little more dextrous and sensitive, helping hunt for sore muscles. Darcie takes a seat nearby, watching over you as you work. What you lack in size, you make up for in maneuverability. Stretching, you systematically press and squeeze the muscles around the upper base of her fin, where the large stone bowl habitually rests on her water runs.

Subtle shifts in her stoic breathing let you know when you’ve found your marks. Curling your digits, you use the backsides to press into stiff muscles and work out the residual tension. The abrasive texture of her scales leaves the scaled portions of your paws sore, and the force and effort does the same to the roots of your hard claws. Massage takes more muscle power than you might have thought, especially on a client of her size.

Masseuse is another potential role to consider for the spa.

Moving from her back to the curvature of her arm, laid out in the sand, you begin to work down it. The limb is much thinner and less muscled than you would have expected, especially towards the end where it’s mostly a tube of scaled flesh around a long spike, and a cartilaginous fin. Any meat you have to work with is in her upper arm, and the nook of her armpit. Gentle touches from your fingers test and prod, but find no ticklishness, to your mild disappointment. You safely dig in and massage the muscles connecting to her torso. One arm to the other, crawling across her back to access it. Crossing her neck, you find it contains the many fibrous cables you’d expected to find in the arms. Garchomps’ jaws appear to be their primary weapon, their body a taut machine designed to aim and enforce with those sharp implements.

Symmetry restored to her relaxing limbs, that ferocious neck becomes your next target, crawling to straddle her back and work your fingers up and down the sides. You’ve been very satisfied for days- ever since you got here. And yet your sensitivity proves far from slain. Through the fabric of your kilt, your lower parts are spared the harsh realities of rubbing against her skin as you work, and a familiar pink lump begins to bravely emerge out of view.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (11, 12/10)

You are definitely in the same egg group. Giving in and trying to seduce her in the heat of the moment could lead to some unintended results. That might be the very reason she refused your fingers. Keeping her own head clear. Swallowing again, you try to think of some plans and conversation subjects to maintain your focus.

>Anything else to talk to Mamachomp about during the massage, or keep the session quiet?

>Anything to talk with Darcie about on the way back?

Chapter Text

As much as you’d like to chatter at the dragon underneath you, you pull back your tongue and try to keep yourself under control without a conversation to distract you. The mother chomp doesn’t seem like much of a small talker, and it could end up annoying her and souring things.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Exhibitionism (8, 2/12)

Trying not to think about the feeling of her underneath you has the opposite effect. Every shift of your hips as you shimmy your way forward, groping the thick trunk of her neck, causes your erection to rub against her through your kilt. When she breathes in, her body swells, pressing back against you. No matter how much your confidence has improved, you’re still a little quickshot, and this is almost enough to tip you over the edge. Almost.

>Murdoch Charm: Clothed, Dealmaking, Tribute, Successful Massage (14/2)

By the time you reach the back of her skull, steadying yourself with her horns, she must be aware of the third bump pressing against her. It seems like Garchomp is willing to put up with you rubbing all over her, so you must be doing something right so far.

“Ma’am?” you ask nervously. The Garchomp grunts wordlessly. “Is it o-okay if Darc- if my Skorupi f-friend takes a look around th-the labr- erm, I mean, th-the outside of the l-labyrinth?”

“Do not care. Stay outside,” the terse response is given.

Getting up from her cradle in the sand, Darcie shakes herself off. “Sure. What did you want me to look for?”

“Oh, um, I just thought you might be b-bored,” you laugh. Truthfully, her watching had been making it even harder to keep your focus. Having an audience to your staggering lack of sexual stamina only seems to stimulate it further. “And you like um, building stuff?”

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage (11, 11/10)

Head cocking to the side, Darcie waves her tail back and forth. “I do. I don’t mind watching, but…” she appears to take the hint that there’s more going on. “Alright. I’ll see if there’s any cool designs we can use,” as she scuttles away, she thinks aloud to herself. “Foundations in sand. They must have used a…” her muttering voice trails away.

>Murdoch Fitness: Thief King’s Fingers, Clumsy (12/10)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Horny (12, 14/12)

Alone with the Mamachomp. Taking a deep breath, you get right back to work. Using the backs of your claws, you massage the sides of her head and her cheeks. There is not much give in the scales that ring her taut, predatory jaws. You can feel the tiny rippling needles of her teeth under the surface. A heavy snort clues you in that the facial massage isn’t doing much for her, so you quickly move your hands up. And there you find a sweet spot. Paws working their way underneath where the bony ridge of her upper skull forms a pointed casing and attaches to her horns. Soft, sensitive tissue stretches from the underside of this ridge to her- well, where temples would be on a human. And her forehead, the brow just above the eyes.

“More there,” a two-word review, joined by the words her muscles say in physicality, neck tangibly relaxing between your legs and under your trailing tail. You oblige.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Horny (18, 15/12)

Tense muscles, especially those in the neck, can contribute to headaches. It’s hard to tell if her irritability is a symptom or merely exacerbated, but hauling those heavy loads of water all the time must be a strain on her neck and back. This may be the first she’s felt this relaxed in years.

Setting aside your loins’ screaming desire to work your way back down and squeeze those monster thighs, you continue to lavish her scalp tissues. An added benefit of staying on one place is you aren’t still rubbing all over her and driving yourself to the edge.

>Murdoch Fitness: Exertion, Fire Type, Desert Species, Occa Breakfast (15/6)

It’s hard work, and the last heat of the fading day leaves you feeling a- a heat rock or something. You’re positively radiating like a campfire, and whenever you push your cock down to keep it from poking Garchomp in the back of the head it reminds you of a hot fire poker. Your client’s comfort gives out before your own.

“Enough,” she says, sinking down into he sand so that your legs connect with it on either side, allowing you to clumsily sidle off and flop to all fours. Garchomp rises back out of the sand and flexes her neck. “Was nice. Getting too warm.” Settling back into her natural hunched posture, she eyes you neutrally. “Would be good. For night. Keep warm.” Her jaw twitches and her eyes flick to her den. “Not now.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Horny (3, 4/12)

She totally wants you, she’s just too proud to cuddle up to a lowly Salandit. “Yeeaah,” you sway to the side, lying down in the sand. “W-wouldn’t want to upset your- your husb- uh, your mate,” flirtatiously, you test the waters of her significant other. “Those hatchlings came f-from somewhere right?” Wait, that part wasn’t supposed to be out loud.

>Murdoch Charm: Tribute, Excellent Massage, Horny, Difficult (8/12)

Looking down at you with a quiet expression that suddenly has you feeling like a banana split in a bowl, the Garchomp remains disconcertingly still. You feel nervous hot breath wheezing up from your lungs.

“Their father. Gone,” she says coldly. Dead gone? Left gone? You suddenly feel like your foot is so far down your throat you’re grabbing today’s breakfast.

“Oh.” You swallow. “S-sorry.” No response. “Di-did I, was the massage good?”

After a long moment, the heaviness in the air dissipates. “It was,” Garchomp says, walking to the entrance of her den, then turning to face you and sitting down. Tentatively, you keep up with her for a few paces, and then sit on your haunches, your traitorous cock pressed against the sand beneath your foreclaws for its transgressions. “Talk,” she commands. “Know you want to.”

An idea has been burning a hole in your head looking to get out. Before you speak, you take a deep breath to quell your nervous jitters and stammering tongue. “So, I’m thinking about starting a resort and spa at my Guilds base. Um, it’s a place Pokemon can go to relax and- get what we just did, a massage. And good food, and comfy beds. Something like that will take a lot of effort to build, and, I was wondering if- if I could enlist your help?” Tilting your head, you drag some sand up with your paw and let it sift through your claws. “Not like- a permanent Guild member or move there or- nothing like that, just you’re good at moving the ground and digging and I wondered if you would help me build it in exchange for free admission? That is, you could come by any time you need to relax?”

>Murdoch Charm: Tribute, Excellent Massage, Horny, Foot in Mouth, Difficult (18/14)

Garchomp closes her eyes. “Guilds,” she says with a disdainful hiss. “I hate them.”

“Why’s that, if I may ask?” For such a strong word, she doesn’t seem to hate you. Real hate would have been much harder to overcome.

“Games,” she says, leaning forward. Those eyes lock onto you, paralyzing in their pinpoint attention. “They play games. Try to make us. Make us like them.” Her tail swats the ground, and a tiny shape scampers deeper, back into the den behind her. “Live like they want,” she continues.

“Like humans?” you guess.

“Hm,” a rumble in her throat. “No. Guilds. Make us live like humans. Because you,” her claw jabs in your direction. “You are human. If Guild… run by Pokemon-born. Same thing. Live like they want. Same thing. Would still hate.” She looks up at the sky. The sun has vanished past the horizon now, leaving a rising moon, and stars stretching out over the sky where its light fails to curtain and overshadow. It’s not a wistful look, but an angry one. “They play games. We live games. Move us like rocks. Toys.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Horny (2, 12/12)

This is almost too high concept for you to tackle right now, but you think she’s talking about the Legends- the deities that run the world. She resents the Guilds because it’s the hand that the Legends are using right now to move the world’s society. You’ve known, or at least known about, her type before. In a different context, but apparently there are always self-sufficient survivalists who live off the grid because they hate the government.

No, that’s the reason she gives, and it’s true- but there’s more. You get the sense there’s something deeper and more personal here, too. A grudge. Something to do with the missing mate? Whether it’s their fault or yours’- one of the past Guilds- it’s related. That’s where all this anger in her is rooted.

“I understand,” you respond meekly. “If you don’t want to-”

She shifts and looks at you, again placing you in the center of her draconic focus. You gulp- but her voice is calm, and her anger is gone. “Your resort. They choose to go?”

“Um, y-yeah, that’s how a business works,” you rub the back of your neck. “It’s a service people can use if they want.“

The fact that you don’t plan on being some kind of leader or conqueror assuages much of her unease. You sort of do want to make some waves, fight back against King- but maybe she would approve of that too? He’s the worst example of all of the sort of thing she hates in Guilds. “I will help,” she agrees.

You try to contain your excitement, but your tail tip slaps the sand behind you. “That’s great, thank you. I’ll… l-let you know when I have things set up, ready to get started?”

She nods. “Go now. I am sleeping.” Grabbing the stone basin, she drags it into the entrance of her den, where it blocks easy access, and bends down to slurp the sun-warmed yet refreshing water. The she, too, disappears into its labyrinthine depths after the shadow of her young.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Impossible (2, 14/20)

Remaining in place as the sand cools under the moon, you wait for Darcie to come back around from the side of the structure. She scurries over. “Did it go well?”

“Yeah, she agreed to help with building the resort,” you report excitedly, clapping your claws together with glee. Darcie joins you, tapping the tips of her pincers together in rhythm.

“I’m happy for you! Well, us,“ she rolls her eyes. “I looked around, not much to say. The foundations were laid by Ground or Rock types, that way is best when building on sand. It’s what I expected. We do that at the outpost too. Not exactly a groundbreaking…” she giggles to herself, “Feat of construction.”

You set out with her for the inn.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Local (14, 5/8)

>Murdoch Fitness: Fire Type, Heated Up, Desert Species (15/4)

>Darcie Fitness: Desert Species, Warm Company (4/6)

So much heat still lingers in your body from a mixture of arousal and black scales soaking up the sun that the cold desert night barely bothers you. Darcie sticks close, shivering a little. The long day has worn down her fortitude, and she sounds tired as she makes conversation. “That was sure a fully packed first day.”

“Wasn’t it?” you stretch your forelimbs up to the sky. Your flopping boner has mercifully given up by now, but the haze of arousal still hangs like lace curtains draped before your thoughts. “I’m ready to celebrate another successful rescue from King.” A sideways leer is trained her way as she walks closer to your warmth. “D-do you know what you want to do tonight?”

“Sleep?” she answers sarcastically, and you share a short laugh. “I mean,” with a brief pause, Darcie chews on the tips of her stingers and glances away. “You know what I like,” she adds, giving more weight to her tired eyes and yet eager demeanor. “I’ve never actually had a guy cum in me before. I’ve only really been with… girls…”

Feeling you already know who she means, you wager with a knowing smile, “Leanne?”

Darcie’s pincers click. “You guessed?”

“There was some ch-chemistry I could see.” Dropping to all fours, you nuzzle closer to her. “If it’s not too prying or- too scandalous, what was it like? With her?”

“Oh, you can probably guess what she likes to do with her vines,” rolling her stingers around one another, she curls her tail up tight against herself. “She would get me right where she wants me, and…” breathing heavier, Darce reminisces, “She doesn’t have claws like you do. So it was down to toys, or the sting of a whip on my… well, she found ways to hit the things I liked too. You kind of reminded me of her earlier.”

“It’s been a long day, which earlier?” you softly snark back.

“With the Berry and washing me up,” her tail unfurls again.

“So were you two g-girlfriends?” feeling a little guilty, you sigh. “Sorry if I came along and split you up.”

“Oh, no, not like that,” Darcie quickly corrects you. “Leanne is weird. She’ll go from hot to sweet, to disappearing by morning. We had fun, but I don’t think she wanted something more than that.” Commitment issues, huh? She and Rusty will make quite the pair of wishywashers. “It was nice waking up cuddling in bed with someone.” Clicking her jaws, Darcie reverses the train back to her previous thought, “Anyways, as I was saying. I’d like to try… Landorus’ storms, this still feels weird to say. I want you to cum in me? I want to feel how it feels. I might like to be awake for the first time, but if either of you wants to put it anywhere after I’m asleep…”

Darcie's familiarity with the area led you true. You crest what turns out to be the last hill. The last big hill, at least. Like a lighthouse, the glow of electric light emanates from the Sweetwater watch tower. The Magnemite inside maintains a current between the prongs of its magnets, guiding the way for any wanderers in the desert at night. The walk back now measured in minutes rather than hours, you find your way to the Stargazer, this time with its namesake painting the sky. There is a wooden cart sitting outside with a set of wheels that appear to be operated by sets of pedals, like a bike or a pedalboat. Darcie stops to inspect it, taking a passing interest in the construction.

It's past the busiest time for the little outpost’s only watering hole, but there is still bustle and background noise from chattering patrons when you enter. The performers on stage have taken a break, or gone to sleep. Three tables are occupied, and a few villagers sit at the bar across from Roman.

Sitting together at one of the tables are Gwen and Hustle. The latter is lapping at a large bowl of water with a blissful expression on his face, and Gwen’s shaggy tail begins swinging underneath her the moment she sees you enter, drooping through the back of her seat. Across from them, Ester is sipping water from a cup and telling something to Hustle.

The second table is more of the Mesprit Guild. You only know that because you recognize Michael, who is perched on Spring’s knuckle talking with her. With them at the table are a bulky Heatmor, and a Mienfoo swinging his legs below the table where an array of heavy packs are parked.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (13, 10/10)

Wait, there’s one other Pokemon at their table! You can see another tiny yellow shape perched on the Mienfoo’s shoulder, a Joltik.

At the third table is Leanne- who flutters her eyelids at you, with a wave of her tail leaf- sharing a drink with Roxie. The rest of the Jirachi Guild aren’t present, but you detect the lingering fragrance of Astra in the air.

A Banette is sitting on a stool at the bar, next to a Meganium who sits on her haunches on the floor. The two of them are chatting with Roman.

The saloon doors swing again behind you as Darcie catches up from her vehicle inspection.

>Who to visit with first?

Chapter Text

To no one’s surprise, the gravity well surrounding Gwen pulls you in, like a planetary satellite that drew too close to a gas giant, ready to plunge into its depths and never come up for air. You have the frame of mind to glance back at Darcie and give her an encouraging nod to go see her girlfriend-not-girlfriend, and she breaks away to join the Jirachi Guild’s table.

The moment you pull up a chair and draw within range, Gwen steps onto the table to lick your face.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Gwen Expert, Cunning Linguist (17/10)

Instinct takes over. Taking hold of her bushy cheek with one claw, you press your own tongue back against her, your thinner forked appendage slithering across her broad one to trace along her teeth and memorize their shapes and textures. Each sharp point tickles nerves with a sensation of numbed danger as your exploratory muscle drags past. A taste of grit and sand from a long day inhaling the desert heat, since quenched with water but not thoroughly scrubbed. A problem you correct, meticulously.

“Wow,” a wet voice sucks in water dropping from its face as it marvels at your display. “Guy, my pal, I gotta say, you’re a really wild kisser!” Hustle’s compliment makes you chuckle to yourself, as you reluctantly draw back from Gwen’s mouth. So deep you’d gone, she was practically fellating your snout. One final lick drags up the underside of your spit-covered face. Barely restrained lust is plainly writ on her own.

Your girlfriend told you that you were a terrible kisser, and the experience felt more like a dental visit. Maybe you were just a Gwen kisser. “Um,” you glance at Hustle and Ester, then away towards the other tables. “Gwen, wanna slip out for a second? We’ll be right back.” She doesn’t take much convincing. “B-be right back,” you whisper to Hustle, disappearing into the corridor.

In the bedroom, in a second. Your claws grip Gwen’s flanks and run deep through her fur, spreading her hindquarters open. Your snout, already lubricated by slobber and unsatisfied lust, slots easily into her equally drenched spade.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Gwen Expert, Cunning Linguist, Edged Once (16/12)

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Gwen Kisser (2, 7/12)

Like prey caught from behind by a predator, her legs give out, and she tumbles to the side, splaying her legs wide. You fall with her, flopping to the floor on your back, but nothing could dislodge you right now. To the contrary, you plunge deeper, tongue spearing deep and then curling back upon itself when it ravenously reaches the fleeing edge of the world. Its agile musculature molds into and massages the edges of what you’re pretty sure is her cervix, and her legs kick out and grab at the air. Your worship of her deepest recess is merciless, carving an image, a statue in your mind. Fleshy walls squeeze onto you, and you feel your erection buzzing, twitching, floating free in the air- nearly exploding when cool air from the outside brushes against its forge fire. There’s more to come tonight, and you rein it in, sparing the mental processing to command it not to waste its load shooting the floor. Breathing through the edges of your long snout, you ride out Gwen’s sudden cervical orgasm. Your tongue explores every twitch of her canal, every clench of her muscles, as you drag it back into its own domain.

>Gwen has gained the Cervicilingus Fetish

With a wet pop, you come free. Smelling and tasting only Gwen’s sweet, fruity fluids, you take a heavy, ragged breath. Denied its own release, your dick slithers back into its cave, burdened with renewed vengeance. Lying on her side, tongue flopped out, legs stretched against the floor, Gwen pants and catches her own breath.

You slither between her lower legs, dragging your stomach across hers’ and feeling the subtle touch of tiny nubs against your scales. She feels it too, and shudders. You slither between her upper legs, and rest your cheek against hers’. “Better?” your voice sounds husky and alien with confidence, as if from someone you scarcely recognize. But this time you know that it is you you’re feeling.

“Nghf,” Gwen grunts wordlessly, speechless in the wake of the crash, riding the tide back out to sea and picking up the pieces of her thoughts like a scattered shipwreck.

“I hope you’ll be ready again in time for-“ breath accidentally runs out, you suck a new one in. “-for me and Spring at once,” you tease. Claws run over her bag, digging into the coarse dorsal fur and stimulating the skin underneath. She writhes.

It takes longer for her to recover her speech faculties than it took to consummate this quickie. “Not… that easy… to… keep me down,” Gwen gasps. Her legs press against you and she tries to adjust her position. Reluctantly, you relinquish your coiled grasp and allow her to stand. Gwen shakes herself and stretches. “Hff. You want me… me to finish you?”

“N-no, I need to keep myself together for later,” standing up as well, you smooth down your kilt. “Shall we?”

The room hasn’t changed by the time you get back and take your place at the table with Hustle and Ester. Catching Roman’s eye across the room, you point and your cohorts’ vessels of water and raise two claws. He nods.

“So,” you shakily begin. Hustle sniffs the air and you are distinctly aware that your entire face now smells like Gwen. If you had hair it would be wild and disheveled. Gwen’s is wild and disheveled. But that’s her usual look. “Huss, Ester… you two catching up? Learn an- anythin-ng new?”

“We were comparing our memories of events,” Ester answers first, while Hustle is still processing what to say. The Morgrem’s eyes are downcast into the rippling water he nurses, cupped between his hands. “I can still remember his voice, so vividly. And yet,” he rubs his forehead in frustration. “The words aren’t so clear. And everything is fuzzy. I still don’t know what I’m remembering right and what’s made up.” A second wooden mug and ceramic bowl are set in front of you, and Roman as quickly vanishes to tend to the needs of other patrons.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (16, 14/10)

He’s worried his mind might not be his own, still. After however long he was trapped in the King’s spell, the fuzziness in his head must be frustrating him- scaring him. “Memories can be like that, even without scary f-fey charms, especially traumatic ones,” you reassure him. “I heard you’re doing a bit better?” you mention encouragingly.

>Murdoch Charm: (11/10)

His flashes a faint attempt at a smile. “Yeah. Larissa and Michael have me helping move stuff around. Load and unload the wagon… it’s okay. Keeps me busy.”

“Anything you do for fun?” nothing but work can’t be healthy.

“Nicole lent me some puzzles,” he answers. “I’m not great at them but, they’re okay.”

“I’m just happy my new buddy, ‘doc found me,” Hustle pipes up. “At first I was freaking out, but he’s super-super nice, let me join his Guild and everything. You’ll like him!”

“Yeah, he seems cool,” Ester distantly agrees, sipping from his cup. When he sets it down again, he looks up at you this time. “I heard you’re going to do something about the King?” his voice is low, hushed.

“Well, once I figure out what to do,” you rub the base of your frills.

Voice a deep growl, Gwen states firmly, “He cannot continue.”

Ester nods slowly. “I’ve never been good at much,” there’s a hollow resignation in his voice. “I wish there was something I could offer. Something I could do.” Digits tighten, gripping the cup like iron. “Get back at him.”

Looking down at the table and your claws, unconsciously clasped, you pull them apart and spread them across the surface. Though you’re unsure what to say to him in the moment, Gwen speaks herself, ”Train then. Get better.”

>Gwen Charm: Disadvantage, Not a Talker, Righteous Purpose (6, 9/10)

It’s not as inspiring as she might have hoped. Ester just nods his head silently.

Sensing the conversation might be dead, you pat Gwen on the back. “I’m going to check on how Spring is doing- with the uh, his Guild.” She nods and nuzzles your cheek. You scratch her under the chin, and pull yourself away.

The next table is crowded by comparison, even though two of its occupants take up very little space at all. Larissa has been busy. If she’s managed to gather this assortment of craftsmen in such a short period of time, maybe she’s not such a non-threat in the competition. Lighting a fire under your opponents’ asses is a great way to get strong allies, maybe not such a great plan to win. But winning is Victini’s game.

Slinking your way closer, you cop a peek under the table. The Mienfoo’s junk is tantalizingly hidden under his natural skirt, but the Heatmor’s lower regions are more visible, bottom slumped forward at the bottom of her seat. A puffy cleft nestled in the crook of her two smoke tubes, which would certainly lend a sweltering atmosphere. “Hey there,” breaking off the view, you climb up onto Spring’s seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Your slim body fits beside hers’, if only just barely. “You talking business without me?”

One of her nostrils flares briefly, and Spring smirks at you. “Somebody has to put business before pleasure. Everybody, this is Murdoch, our Guild leader.”

A round of introductions begins.

The Heatmor has a deep breathy voice, like furnace bellows. And like its namesake, the voice exhales warm breath over the table, chasing away the night’s chill. “My name is Hanna-netta. I make glass, mostly windows until now. The Guild has a more artistic angle, I’m still experimenting with it,” she leans forward into the palm of one of her large-clawed paws. Vents circling them like bracelets are covered in more exhaust vents for heat control.

“Hanna Netta?” you repeat, a question in your voice. “I’ve never heard a Pokemon with a surname here yet.”

“Oh,” she shakes her head against her palm. “It’s all one, Hanna-netta.”

“Oh!” awkwardly, you clear your throat. “Well, it sounds very n-nice.”

“Thanks. You can just use Hanna if it’s easier, most people do.”

Legs still swinging underneath him, the Mienfoo chews on a plate of baked apple chips. “Hey,” he’s looking away when Hanna nudges him with a foot. Blinking, he realizes he’d zoned out. “Hey!” repeating himself more attentively this time, he sits up straighter and clasps his paws in front of him. “Nice to meet you. Sorry. I’m Alton, I was just planning a project.”

“He sculpts too, but he works with stone instead of glass,” Hanna finishes the introduction for him. Alton pounds his paws together, signifying his limbs as the tools of his trade. You’ve seen Fighting types break stone by hand before, so you wouldn’t doubt him.

On his shoulder, the small yellow bug raises a single blue clawtip to greet you. “Call me Caesar! I’m not an artist like the rest, I do more on the business side. Or, I will. We’ve barely started yet.” Right. It starts coming back to you- another of the potential partners Hoopa put up as your options. They sure have a way of popping back up. You suppose if they were interested in being Guild partners, it makes sense they’d reach out to Guilds on their own no matter what. Like Giselle, there’s no hint that he knows who you are.

“Here I thought you were Michael’s girlfriend,” you joke, wiggling your claw at the Cutiefly perched on Spring’s knuckle. He buzzes his wings at you in irritation.

The little fly’s tone is humorously serious as always for his squeaky voice, “Not likely.”

“You don’t get along?” as much curiosity as tease, this time.

Rubbing his face with a limb, Michael makes a humming sound. A sigh of his own. “Let’s say we both aim above our weight class.”

Letting him off on the teasing about his love life, you settle into more professional topics. “Speaking of weight class, um. You guys s-sure ballooned in size! How did Larissa manage- s-so many so fast?”

“Word spreads quickly in a small village like ours’,” hopping off of Spring’s knuckle, Michael circles your head to perch on top of it. Makes his small voice easier to pick out among the background chatter. “We drew up a recruitment advertisement on the local bulletin board.”

“Working together with a Guild sounded like a great way to get our names out there, get interest in our crafts,” Alton’s voice is shrill and bubbly, but with a sharpness to it, like crisp images of bubbles rather than the real thing.

With one hand, Spring traces down your knee. Knowing looks out the corner of her eye suggest she’s aware of your little diversion with Gwen. “They’ve branched into a lot of crafts instead of all just making lewd drawings like Larissa and Michael.”

He objects with a curt, “I paint.”

“Right, lewd paintings,” Spring obtusely corrects herself, and he rolls his entire body in an emphatic shrug you can feel in his shifting weight. “Anyways, we talked a little about the possibility of hiring them to help with our base. They’ve got a carpenter back home with Larissa in addition to these guys.” It’s true they have just about everything you’d need for construction. With Mamachomp available for foundations and stonework. “I don’t know your vision for the resort thing though,” she adds, theatrically. “Thought you’d want to hash out any details yourself.”

“That can wait until tomorrow, it’s getting late,” taking off from your scalp, Michael hovers through the air to linger around Hanna. He’s been gravitating towards the Fire types, maybe he just doesn’t like the cold. “Should we meet over breakfast?”

“Sounds good,” you agree. Speaking of food, you are feeling hungry after that walk through the desert. Sliding off of Spring’s seat, you start pondering what you’d like to eat. Something fast and filling would be good. “I’m going to, um, just finish the rounds- see you in the b-bedroom later?” A smile thrown Spring’s way.

She leers back at you. “Better,” hopping down from the chair herself, she gives Michael a finger-waggling wave of hyperbolic affection, swaying her way towards your Guild’s table. “See ya soon, Murry.”

A round of passing gestures with the many members of the Mesprit Guild, and you pull up a seat next to Roxie at the Jirachi Guild’s table. Or at least the two who are there. Conversation has died down by the time you get there, Darcie in the midst of picking her way through a meal of Aguav Berries, and bitter leaves dipped in honey. “Mind if I eat with you g-g- ladies?” you ask, setting down your cup of water.

“Go ahead, Leanne and I ate already,” Roxie quickly permits. You wave Roman over to the table. He walks more awkwardly on two legs than you do, but his broad base provides a stable center of gravity.

“What can I get’cha?” the Nidorino asks. You feel a bit of blush burning under your scales, wondering how well the former-human can smell the sex on you.

“Um, d-do you have anything fast and uh, filling?” you ask, your train of thoughts painted with innuendo from the wording as your impatient loins anticipate the coming romp.

“I felt inspired,” he waves a paw towards you. “Made some seed buns today. One for a Poke, three for two.”

“Yeah, I’ll have that, three- I’m pretty peckish!” Order received, he waddles his way back to the counter, and you shift in your seat. “So,” you look between Leanne and Roxie. “Rusty is in the middle of um, getting his pelvis dusted by Astra?”

“What imagery,” resting her long snout on crossed leaves, Leanne chuckles.

“Something like that.” Equal levity chimes in Roxie’s voice, “I think whatever you did to him the other day broke down a couple barriers in his head,” she waves an arm back and forth, making that gentle shake-shake sound. “Astra really needed to let off some steam after that fight earlier. The smell was getting a little heavy in here, so she and the boys…” Roxie wiggles her flower petals… suggestively? And whistles.

Scratching your neck, you wonder aloud, “I thought she kinda sorta liked Gwen? In a weird way. Then all the f- the foot in mouth stuff, and they got in that fight. Is she like…”

“It’s a dominance thing, not a grudge thing,” her needle-claws settle on your shoulder and give it a squeeze. “Don’t try too hard to wrap your human head around it, hey? I think it’ll all be easier now that Gwen officially tops her in the pecking order.”

A ceramic plate clacks against the table and slides in front of you. There are three soft buns arranged in a triangle. The warmth of the oven has left them by now, but they remain fresh and soft, made today. A smattering of seeds- from multiple kinds of fruit- dot the top, along with a sprinkling of brown sugar crystals.

When you pick one up and sink your fangs into it, the baked mound squishes around your snout, tearing easily. The bread isn’t as light or fluffy as your own milk buns, but it’s good. Crunch and favor from the sugar is an easy way to elevate the dish’s enjoyability, and the variety of seeds provide a buffet of sensations for your tongue to explore. Tangy flavor shoots through as you crunch into one, and you feel smooth, sweet specks brush past your tongue, embedded in the bread.

Chewing bread is more work with your lizard jaw than the human grinding machine. As you join Darcie eating, the table becomes quiet once again. By the time you finish your first bite, your thoughts have had time to percolate. You find yourself wondering what Roxie has going on. She’s cute, and she’s been helpful… but inviting her to the Guild orgy might be weird with Leanne here. Feel like leaving her out intentionally.

“Um,” you start, then wrestle a final shred of bread you missed that was stuck to your fang. Once your tongue has pulled it down to its fate, you swallow and start again. “Would you two of you like to join us tonight?”

Coyly, Leanne probes, “Join you tonight, for…?”

“Oh, just a d-debaucherous Hoopa sex party,” you answer, stuffing more bread into your mouth to avoid putting any feet in it. Closing her eyes, Leanne lets her head tilt to the side, the leaf on her tail swaying behind her.

“I’m more of a one-on-one kind of girl,” she admits. “Groups feel… I don’t know. Not my thing. I’ll pass tonight.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (4, 7/10)

Darcie’s expression is as difficult to read as ever. Harder, actually, with food in her mouth and busying her pincers. You do see her eyes flicker over towards Leanne. Disappointed?

Roxie’s large ear-stalks swivel around and her flowers flex. “Do you like trying new things? I might not be what you’re used to.”

This time you do have something to coyly brag about. “I’ve been known to try new things. Ever tried Shuckle? Er, no, I guess-”

“Yeah, I can’t really jive with that,” she finishes the thought for you. “I get you, though. Sure! I’m curious to see whatever you did to leave your Poochyena so breathless in the blink of an eye,” Roxie giggles into her claw and shakes her arms. “I’m all sandy though. I’ll go have a quick wash,” taking a bunny hop back from the table, she pats you one last time on the back and leaves for the private rooms.

Silence reigns again while you hurry to catch up to Darcie and finish your food. A quick stop by Roman’s counter to pay for your food, and another night with your room. 8 Poke in total- Darcie insists on covering her own bill.

When you creak the door open and peek inside, Gwen and Spring are already lounging together on the mat, Gwen’s head resting on her paws and Spring running a small comb down her back. Hustle is laying on his back spread eagle on the floor, his broad body sagging around him like a furry carpet. A light snore escapes him. Their fur is damp, from the wash basin. “I-I guess I- we should clean up too,” you mention back towards Darcie as she trails in behind you, approaching the basin.

“Sure. Mind giving me a hand with the hard-to-reach places?”

You laugh softly at Darcie’s question. “Do you even need to ask?”

Folding your kilt and taking up a cloth, you start to wipe the sand and grime of the desert away. Darcie plucks a sponge between her pincers and scrubs your back for you, then turns over for you to clean her underside. The intimate touching causes your pink head to poke out of its slit, anticipating what is to come. While you’re cleaning up, there’s a knock at the door. The rustling approach leaves few guesses as to who. “Come in,” you say, and Roxie hops over the threshold.

“Heey everybody,” she announces herself in a sing-song voice, water dripping from some of her thorns.

“Oh, we have another special guest tonight?” Spring asks, Gwen cracking open an eye to check the cactus out.

“You still have first dibs on Gwen and I,” you clarify.

“Quite the party,” Roxie points out the snoozing Zigzagoon jokingly.

“Oh yeah, we can g-get him up now probably,” you quickly add.

Everyone is tired after a long day, but there’s still a pleasant atmosphere in the air.

>You and Spring will go at Gwen orally during the first round

>Suggesters can toss out positions, ideas and pillow talk

Chapter Text

With two hops, Roxie is across the room and standing over the snoring heap of Zigzagoon on the floor. She’s about to shake him awake when you speak up, “Wait! I have an… idea,” you drum your claws together playfully. “Hustle was the first to fall asleep, s-so it’s tradition.” She grins through jagged fangs, and Spring rolls over to lounge with her hands behind her head and watch what unfolds.

“Okay,” lowering her voice, Roxie looms, bent down above him. “What are we going to do to mess with him?”

“Let’s tell him the cactuses are mad at him, cause he bit one, and now he has to s-service you to pay them back,” you suggest.

“Oh, a little half-asleep roleplay foreplay?” she cocks her head, and her flower stems droop to one side. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind taking that tongue for a ride.” A flick of her head swivels them back into a perky stance above her. Gripping Hustle’s side with her claw, she runs it down through his fur until he twitches in his sleep, then digs them into the ticklish weak point.

With a jerk and a yelp, Hustle bounces up and then flops back down, unable to kick all the way to his feet. He wriggles on the floor, trying to bend upwards and get a look around at what’s going on. “Hwah?”

Even though she tries to put on a menacing voice- and her face would be a little spooky if you ran into it in the desert at night, you admit- Roxie can’t keep a light giggle out of her tone. “Look who’s awake,” she greets him, cupping his chin and helping him sit up. “You’ve got a cute little mouth, it’s a shame you’ve been so naughty with it.”

“Uh?” Hustle mumbles through the claws holding his cheeks, blinking blearily and trying to process where he is. “Whuh I do?”

“You went and bit my cactus friend,” she pokes him in his weak spot again, and he jerks back, tail whipping against the floor and sweeping up the dust. “I hope you’re ready to make up for your cactus crimes, big guy~!” Drawing back, she angles her left stem down towards his face. You watch curiously- you were wondering what she meant earlier. She must have some sort of weird flower sex organ. Those suspicions are supported by a clear, slightly amber fluid that dribbles down her pink petals from the center, drops trailing down onto Hustle’s tongue.

He reaches up and grabs hold, pressing his snout to the center of her flower. Roxie hums in approval, leaning forward into the contact. Her eyes glance at Darcie, who is watching from the sidelines. “Want to join us?” An invitation offered, Darcie tip-taps closer and takes hold of the other stem with her tail’s pincers, gently drawing it down towards her.

“I don’t have a very long tongue for this,” the Skorupi disclaims softly. Using her facial claws, she gently runs the round edges along the dripping edge of Roxie’s receptacle.

A soft shush in return. “Shh, shh, girl he’s got enough tongue for both of you, oh. Just drink as much as you’d like.” Encouraged, Darcie brings the flower up to her mouth and sucks at the nectar running out.

While you’re staring at the scene, a dextrous hindpaw grabs you under the chin, and another cups your cheek, pulling your gaze back to Spring and Gwen. “Someone better get their tongue over here,” Spring chides you jokingly- half-jokingly. You can tell she’s worked up with anticipation. A string glistens in the light, between her legs.

Gwen turns over onto her stomach, spreading out her legs to give access. Under the stern glare of her expectant gaze, you grip Spring’s hips and maneuver yourself against her on the mat. Your bodies don’t quite align with your bellies pressed together. Her face rests against the underside of your neck, and your erection brushes against her thighs. Just the heat of her fur pressing against your rod is enough to send you over the edge, where you’d been precariously balanced since your quickie with Gwen…

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported, Edged Twice (4, 5/12)

You feel the twitch and prophetic tightness clenching through your body. Fight it though you may, all you manage to do is ruin the climax as your defiant cock spurts white trails out along Spring’s inner thigh. A feeling of emptiness clenches in the pit of your stomach, and it pulses numbly, releasing another few half-hearted dribbles.

“Ah,” the moment brings you back. It’s not pleasant memories waiting. “A-aaah, I’m so ss- s-sorry, I-” you begin to panic, but Spring slaps you softly on the cheek.

“Hey,” she points up at Gwen’s waiting spade, eager for its second round. “It’s fine, that’s not the main show. Not gonna keep the lady waiting are you?” A lingering feeling of failure is dampened and mixes strangely with- you’re not sure. Contentment, reassurance? It’s halfway to feeling alright with what happened. The ruined orgasm of acceptance.

Together, you sidle up to meet her with your tongues.

>Murdoch Lewd: Gwen Expert, Supported, Cunning Linguist, Gwen Kisser (20)

>Spring Lewd: (20)

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage (15, 15)

This time, you do not immediately venture so deep into the black abyss of Gwen’s vaginal canal. You wouldn’t want to steal the show. Instead your tongue joins Spring’s much broader, clumsier muscle tasting the puffy exterior, dragging along the space where skin meets fur. Spring leans in and uses her flat front teeth to grip and massage the flesh between them. Her tongue game might be lacking, but Gwen’s leg kicks into the air and her paws curl at the rough sensation. You’ve learned to tell the tells of Gwen getting close, and she is.

A whine escapes Gwen’s throat when Spring lets go with her teeth and exhales hot breath, “You like it when I chew your pussy rough?” her line comes straight out of forced porn dialogue- but it’s not dirty talk for an audience. It’s a taunt, a challenge, with the same playful edge with which she says bitch. “Alright,” Spring holds a finger to your mouth and you withdraw your tongue, causing Gwen to look down with a furrowed brow. “Beg,” with an audacity that runs the risk of having her face forcibly ridden, Spring breathes the word hotly onto Gwen’s entrances.

“What?” Gwen responds flatly, baring her teeth. “You want this. Ask for this. Why you want me to beg?”

“Do you want it?” Spring asks, fluttering her eyelids. “I wanna know bitch,” it comes out like a thrown glove. “Do you want me to keep going? Better start begging if you do.”

>Spring Will: Disadvantage, Taunt, Leer, Good Oral (12, 8)

>Gwen Will: Intimidation (19)

Instinct causes you to pull back. Like a crumbling tower, Spring’s moment of hubris falls upon her. As does Gwen’s rump. With a snarl and a heaving lunge, Gwen twists in her spot and wraps her thighs around Spring’s face, smushing her into the mat. You hear muffled laughter from under Gwen’s weight,  the vibrations running up into the Poochyena’s lower regions and causing her tail to twitch and hike.

Raising her head and tipping it just enough to peer at you down her back, Gwen fixes you with a playful eye. “She get too big. Too big in her head. Make her beg.” She attempts to sway you over to her side of this competitive double team.

The monkey’s lower half is sticking out from your usual spot underneath Gwen’s hindquarters. Her forepaws are folded over her chest, showing no signs of discontent with her current situation. By the twitches at the corner of Gwen’s jaw, you can tell Spring is still just teasing her down there.

>Help Spring turn the tables and dom Gwen? How?

>Help Gwen make Spring beg? How?

>Let the girls sort it out and see what the plant suckers are up to.

Chapter Text

Feeling giddy mischief bubbling up in your stomach, you flex your claws and lean in. They find Spring’s hips, tracing their tips softly up her sides. Each skittering tip delivers careful microdoses of Hoopa’s secret spice, enhancing the sensations it jolts beneath the skin. The reaction is immediate, Spring twitches and tries to grab onto your arms with her paws, seizing your sides with her feet. “H-hh-ey!” her muffled voice vibrates up into Gwen’s spade, pressed against her pinned partner’s lips. It crackles and breaks apart with struggling laughter.

>Murdoch Fitness: Clumsy, Combat, Supported, Thief King’s Fingers (18)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Blinded, Pinned, Double Teamed, Lewd Games (5, 11)

Spring has the power, the strength in her muscles. In a compromised position, it only does so much. Using Gwen’s training, you leverage your weight and let the shudders and spasms caused by your touch to break her defense. Her fingers come loose. You collapse on top of her, your face buried in Gwen’s tail for a moment before its swaying motion swats you in the cheek. Freed from her grip, your fingers reach down to her thighs and the undersides of her legs, giving her no mercy. A knee slams you in the stomach, but you slink with the impact and keep hold of your breath.

Your moist slit, slick with your cum, rubs against Spring’s. The traitorous organ that couldn’t keep it together has fallen back into its cavern, but twitches with a dull ache when it feels the edges of Spring’s pussy pressing into its domain. You buck your hips, feeling the moist heat of her arousal. She’s loving this.

Tortuously, you stop and stay stock still. Her chest heaves and she grunts, “Mrgh! Whr oo-oing?” her tongue hums clumsily behind closed lips.

“You heard her. B-beg for it,” you breathe out, curving your back to nestle your snout beside her chin. Letting your tongue out, you drag it from under her chin down to the nape. Gwen grinds against her from above, growling deeply- purring.

>Murdoch Will: Gwen Assistance, Distraction, Thief King’s Fingers, Tickle Torture (11)

>Spring Will: Disadvantage, Pinned, Double Teamed, Lewd Games (2, 12)

“Fff,” sixteen fingers curl against the mat beneath. “Lease!” she relents.

“You know what you do,” Gwen tells her firmly. Her breath hitches, as Spring resumes playing with her puffy exterior with her teeth and digging in with her tongue.

Your body feels relief, as you allow it to resume rubbing against Spring. The tip begins to emerge again, dragging along her hot slit and smearing a slippery mixture across it. Tentatively, it inches out, sliding from you into her. Each grinding hump shoves it deeper.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported, Round 2 (17, 12)

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Worship, Fatigued, Round 2 (12, -1)

>Spring Lewd: Double Teamed, Lewd Games, Thief King’s Fingers (-2)

Fighting against the numb ache of post-orgasm, you are able to keep it up as you drive yourself into Spring. She falters first, the walls clenching in and grabbing onto you. Knowing you need to keep up your stamina for the rest of the night so you aren’t shooting blanks into Darcie, you pull out and fall to the side, just breathing, satisfied. Gwen keeps riding her, not yet satisfied herself.

>Hustle Lewd: Advantage, Foodplay, Fatigued (8, 4)

>Darcie Lewd: Fatigued (8)

>Roxie Lewd: Nectar Sucking, Hustle’s Tongue Control (-1)

While you catch your breath and your confused dick bobs in the air searching for the squeezing walls it was denied, you turn to see how the others are doing. The two of them, maybe mostly Hustle, have brought Roxie to her… knee? She’s curved down onto the floor, her bottom sticking up behind her as she struggles to hold herself up on quivering arms. Darcie is gentle lapping at one ‘ear’ clutched in her pincers while Hustle’s tongue is so deep in the other you can see the subtle bulges running along her from the inside. One of his paws cups around an ear spine, while the other runs two digits along either side of his long, thin tool.

You can see a small hole on the underside of her base. Curious, you get up, sparing a look at Gwen. “You two?” you gasp.

“She stays until we done,” she answers, Spring’s hands now wrapped around her muscled thighs.

You nod and slither up behind Roxie. A claw grips the edges of her base, ringed by a set of spiny ‘toes’ meant to dig into he ground and keep her steady while ingrained in the earth. They flex at your touch, and the entrance at the center squeezes. “It’s me,” you introduce yourself to her lower parts. “Mind if I um, j- if I j-join in?” still out of breath, you stammer through a quivering throat.

Roxie’s head turns as much as it can while the other two have her flowers pinned to their faces, one glowing yellow eye looking back at you, unblinking. Her inflexible eyes hold no expression, but her jaws hang open, panting. “That’s my- my root hole,” she introduces you in turn. “G… go ahead.”

Consent achieved, you take hold with your other claw and steady her base in front of you. Your mast is still halfway up, and you rub it against the wrinkled rim. “Sso, um, when you say root?”

“Mhm.”

“Are they… hard?” you wonder, hesitant. Grinding yourself against hard roots doesn’t exactly feel pleasurable.

“Uh,” struggling to catch her breath enough to reply, Roxie flexes her dorsal claws. Four squeeze your sides, the fifth pressing up under your tail. The edges are sharp, the feeling of them dragging along like shaving razors sending shivers up your spine. “How hard are you?”

“Pretty… soft?” uncertainty creeping into your voice, you rub her side with a claw. Thankfully the surface is mostly smooth, with a little give. Her spines are telegraphed, easy to see, not a million little needles. Her head is hanging, drool pooling on the floor alongside the nectar running down Hustle and Darcie’s chins and onto the packed earth. Struck speechless. “Roxie, do you n-need a safeword? We use um, bookmark sometimes.”

“I’m good this is good,” she babbles, suddenly remembering to talk back. “Maybe just- mm, rub the outside.” That sounds safer. You assume a bundle of tangled roots won’t just spontaneously shoot out all over your dick.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Round 2 (11, 13)

>Hustle Lewd: Advantage, Foodplay (1, 8)

>Darcie Lewd: Fatigued (3)

>Roxie Lewd: Nectar Sucking, Hustle’s Tongue Control, Round 2 (6)

Trapped in the center of a three-way pile-up of sensation, Roxie slumps to the floor. Hustle’s muzzle pops loose of her flier, coated in a layer of sticky sweet fluid. He licks his ups and flops over alongside her, sticking his crotch into the air and stroking his sides steadily. Your rubbing against Roxie’s root hole isn’t enough to push you back over the edge, but you can sure tell she felt it.

“Whew,” Darcie breathes out. “I feel like I just ate a second dinner.” She sounds full and sluggish from guzzling down Roxie’s fluids. “That wasn’t exactly the most erotic thing in the world…” She’s probably sucked nectar from flowers before in a much different context. “Comfy though. Roxie, you need a drink?”

“Nyeah,” the cactus mumbles into the ground. After a valiant effort to wipe her face clean with her pincers- they make good window wipers for her eye lenses, if nothing else- Darcie diligently skitters out of the room.

Crawling up next to Roxie and Hustle, you lie down on your side and relax with them. “Well? You… you partied out?” you ask her, rubbing the back of her neck with your claws.

She turns her head enough to speak clearly. “Just need a break. Then we, then we’ll see.” Her overstimulated flowers pulsate. Up close now, you can see they’re not quite like a normal flower, there’s no stamen or solid internal structure. It’s a canal of yellow flesh leading inside, firm and smooth like most Grass-type body structures. One of them is gaping and still leaking nectar from Hustle’s tongue-fucking, while the other remains tightly puckered in the wake of Darcie’s more modest suckling.

“Is your nectar… ah, a-an aphrodisiac?” you ask, settling your claws on your stomach.

“Maybe for some,” she guesses. “Most sexual fluids are… probably.” Doesn’t sound like she knows, herself. After a moment’s thought she supposes, “Nothing like you. I bet I could do that if I… learned Sweet Scent.”

“Tastes good!” Hustle reviews. He tries to crunch up to look at her properly, then wriggles onto his side so he can curl into the conversation properly. He could probably play with his own shaft with that tongue if he wanted to- so could you, now that you think of it. “I tell you missy, I tell you- you could put that on a salad and eat it!” Out of everyone, he looks the least exhausted. If anything, he’s become energized.

“Thanks,” Roxie laughs. “I’ll let you know how you taste… when I get a taste.”

“Does that mean the cactuses forgive me?”

“Yeah… yeah. I say the cactuses are cool with you, Hustle.”

The mysteries of Roxie’s body remain on your mind. “I heard come cactuses can… can get you h-high,” a questionless inquiry, wondered aloud. Roxie rolls over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. You get a better look into the flower from Hustle’s side. The yellow interior is lined with whip-like structures along the walls, which wiggles when she tenses or relaxes. Those must feel nice. Weird on the tongue, too. Like a pussy that makes out back at you with a dozen little tongues.

“Nah, no,” her arms fold over her stomach like yours’. “Can’t say I’ve ever gotten anybody high,” she muses back.

“So… what’s the weird part?”

“I guess if you’ve done a Shuckle your… your,” mind still blanking in the mental haze, she waves some claws around in the air, dancing after words that escape her. “Your standards for weird might be a little skewed. Some folks… eh, the whole fucking a flower where ears should be thing puts them off.”

“I guess that’s true.” Even before Percy your interests made your standards for weird a lot skewed compared to other humans, but after Percy you might be more experienced than a lot of Pokemon out there. It’s an odd thought.

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Worship, Fatigued (1, 7)

>Spring Lewd: Lewd Games, Round 2 (9)

Gwen and Spring walk over. No, not quite walking. Gwen is strutting, still proud and steady even after the orgasm that has painted Spring’s mouth, chin and face. Spring is shuffling, until she slumps to a cross-legged position next to Hustle and wraps a hand around his shaft. “Well, that was fun,” she says. “Looks like Darcie and the new guy still need to cum. What are we gonna do about that?” She gives it a few experimental tugs and tests the weight of his sack, pulling a rumble out of Hustle’s throat.

Speak of the scorpion, and she comes back in hauling a wooden keg of oasis water. Several cranks of a handle later, and everyone is lounging drinking mugs of night-cooled water, topping up their fluids. Hustle’s shakes in his jittery paws.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (12, 2/10)

His shaky paws seem like more than just nervous jitters. No, Hustle doesn’t look the slightest bit nervous. You could chalk it up to anticipation, but it was only hit after he took a massive guzzling of Roxie’s nectar that he jumped up from half-asleep to wide awake and ready to hump something. Maractus juice may not have gotten him high, but it’s definitely some kind of stimulant.

Darcie still looks sleepy. Mild stimulant, enhanced by Hustle’s natural ability. Her nectar might be caffeinated. That would be your read.

>Hustles Fatigue was removed by Roxie’s nectar

“Well,” breathing normally at last, cock once again nestled halfway into its crevasse, you sip from the mug. And you pull yourself out of your idle thoughts. “What if Hustle and I put on a- sh- a show?” you suggest. “You girls can relax and watch and, um, m-masturbate together, maybe make suggestions? Like your own personal directed porno!”

Roxie flexes her jaws and her earstalks swivel curiously. “What’s a porno?”

“Um,” looking out the window, you think of how to put it in simplest terms. “Like a… like a sex act on stage while people watch?” It’s not quite the same, but it’s easier than getting sidetracked by discussing how video recording works.

“Humans are freaky,” Roxie flicks her ears upwards consecutively, one after the other. “I’d be cool with that.”

A quiet “Sounds fun,” and Darcie agrees. She locks eyes with you and stretches her stingers in an attempt to look like she’s smiling.

“I’d prefer a more active role,” seated on the side of her rear, now, Spring has kicked her legs to the side and rests one hand on her thigh. “Sides, I wanted to try out his tongue. Why don’t I join you two?”

“Sure! Um, are you okay with that, Gwen?” realizing she’s the only one who hasn’t spoken up, you glance over at her. Formed into a loaf with her head laid on her paws, she blinks her eyes slowly. Still tired out after a long day, and in the afterglow of multiple orgasms she looks on the verge of nodding off. You’ve no doubt she could go longer if she tried, but-

“Mm,” she hums in her throat. “Is okay. Yes.” It’s nice to relax sometimes, too.

There’s a rearrangement of places in the room. Roxie is back on her claw- talon?- and standing straight, in her usual posture. One ear- Darcie’s, from before- has been brought down, surprisingly flexible at its base, the flower resting in front of her chest. There, she swirls one claw along the interior flesh of her petals, teasing her own hole.

Darcie’s tail is curved back around beneath her, the curve of her pincers held together into a looped shape that she rubs over and into herself, stimulating her vent. Gwen has curled around Darcie, one hind leg draped across her back, and her sex slid snugly around one of Darcie’s own hind legs.

Hustle lay between you and Spring on the room’s mat. “So, why don’t we take one suggestion from each of the audience members? Uh,” you swallow, “That is, we’ll do one position each and um. I’ll see how long I can manage.” At least your Salandit refractory period has come around again, and you feel less achy between your legs. “First, umm,” you hold up a claw, dancing between them. You always love to pick Gwen… but that wouldn’t be very fair. This is Darcie’s fetish… but Roxie is a guest, so…

“How about we go clockwise?” Roxie spares you the choice by pointing across Darcie at Gwen. “Sleepy can go first while she’s still awake for the show~.“

“I’m okay with that,” Darcie agrees amicably.

Sniffing the air, Gwen looks you, and at Spring. “Put on leash, together. Then his paws. Worship, mm… massage. Make him feel good,” she commands. “He had hard day.” Spring rolls her eyes and struts around to Hustle’s lower end with you. Holding up her hand, she flexes her fingers in a motion to Gwen, who directs Darcie to her pack. A leash is thrown your way, coiled up. Spring snatches it out of the air and huddles in close to you, pulling it over your necks. Thankfully it’s got a lot of room for adjustment, and you soon find yourself cheek to cheek with Spring once again.

Hustle is on his back, so you have to straddle his bushy tail between the two of you. Bristly hairs, softened somewhat and left mildly damp by the recent bath from the inn’s basin, run down your side. Two hind paws dangle in front of you tantalizingly, just the thing Gwen surely knew you’d like to take a closer peek at. Between them loom his sizeable nuts, and a fluffy sheath that has partially consumed his calming erection. There’s a wet fur smell. There was a wet fur smell from Gwen, too, but you’re more familiar with her smells. They don’t register so much anymore. Hustle’s mingles with masculine pheromones from his partially unsheathed dick, and his skin and fur are coated with a natural layer of oil, which carries a greasy smell.

“Lemme know if ya need me to do anything, guys!” he says. Spring tosses him the handle of the leash, and he grabs it in his forepaws.

“Just relax and have fun,” Gwen answers. “Tug if Spring is rude.”

You take one hindpaw into your claws and explore it, squeezing and feeling- he twitches and kicks a bit when you poke between the black pads on the underside. Soft. His claws are black, not as long as you expected, and not very sharp. There are signs that he’s trimmed them in the recent past. When he was still staff in the King’s castle, you’d wager. Hustle has taken good care of his feet, or castle servants did, before they were subjected to the tortures of the desert.

A brief signal of arousal from the tips of your joybuzzers, and his dick jumps and twitches in its sheath. You squeeze and rub, using one claw to massage his foot and another to stroke his thigh. There’s not much muscle mass, compared to Gwen’s toned sides.

Closing your eyes, you lean in. Spring only gets dragged after you a little, with your longer snout putting in the rest of the work. Your tongue flicks out, tracing through the sensitive spaces between his beans that make him wiggle. It snakes between his toes, and up the keratinous surface of his claws. As you would expect, his skin has an oily texture to it, he truly has the bacon of paws.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported, Cunning Linguist, Exhibitionist, Paws, Petplay, Round 2 (6, 21)

>Spring Lewd: Double Teaming, Round 2 (11)

>Hustle Lewd: Advantage, Thief King’s Fingers (15, 12)

“I think I’ll pass on the toe sucking,” beside you, Spring works her fingers into the other hindpaw. Hustle tugs on the leash, causing her to bump her nose into it. Your snout brushes past his footpad and prods one of his sizeable balls, hitting you with a noseful of ball smell. “I think I’ll politely decline the toe sucking,” Spring corrects herself in a deadpan voice.

The heady injection of pheromones hangs in your nostrils as you pull back and canoodle his paw again, neurons already pulsating with fascination with the scenario. Your dick brushes back and fourth across Hustle’s tail, and you realize it’s already back at full mast. The conflux of sensations causes it to jerk upwards and spurt out a trickle. Losing yourself in the moment, you reach down and stroke yourself, realizing too late that you’ve pushed over an edge so close you didn’t see it coming. A squirting spray of Salandit spunk splatters onto Hustle’s bushy tail and seeps down onto the packed floor.

Gasping, you pull back and look down at the sticky mess coating your claw, dragging Spring out with you until you reach the end of the slack in the leash. “Wh- whoops.”

>Spring Fitness: Advantage (14, 18)

>Hustle Fitness: Disadvantage, Stupid (14, 8)

>Darcie Lewd: Group Masturbation, Fatigued (4)

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Round 3, Fatigued (4, 3)

>Roxie Lewd: Round 3 (-1)

“At least the one of us who enjoys this got somethin’ out of it,” Spring reaches up and stretches her arms across Hustle’s belly. Deftly, she slips the end of the leash out of Hustle’s paws before he realizes and gets up onto her knees. “Next scene?”

Apparently satisfied with your pleasure- and her revenge- Gwen nods her head and rumbles. “Darcie turn next.” Her voice is mumbly and distant, quivering under the lazy, steady ministrations of Darcie’s leg. The audience doesn’t exactly look like they did shots of espresso, sleepily feeling themselves up and over the next edge.

Spring takes off the leash while Darcie looks at the floor and thinks of what she wants you to do. “How about,” playing around with an idea, she turns it over in her head, tail stopping its regular rotation as internal gears reroute mental energy. “Murdoch can go on the bottom, and Spring can play with Hustle’s tongue.” As everyone shuffles around, she raises one of her facial stingers and adds, “Oh. And Murdoch and Hustle, turn this way. No, no, your backsides, this way.”

“Oh, yeah,” Roxie agrees. “I bet those balls bouncing makes a good show.”

You find yourself on your back, with Hustle looking down at you. He drags a long, slobbery tongue up your cheek. “Hey, buddy! This cool with you? How hard do you want it?” The bitter-sweet scent and taste of Roxie leaks from his tongue into your mouth. Definitely more bitter than it smells.

“Y-yeah,” you reach up with your claws and feel up his rippling underside. “The um, the girls want to see them bounce. G-go ahead, I can handle it rough.” Hustle rolls his hips, sliding his erection up the underside of your tail. He looks down to see what he’s doing, and you life his belly out of the way for him to get a better view. The tip finds your slit, already slick with fluids from your past two orgasms. It slides in, shoving your own dick to the side and stretching the edges. With a thin, smooth shape, it goes in easy. A jolt through your fingers, and his length twitches enjoyably inside you.

“Hi there,” stepping over you two, Spring leans down, pressing her stomach against his back, a handstand supporting her strong abdominal muscles to maintain the acrobatic position. Her crotch is shoved into Hustle’s nose. “Show me what you can do.”

>Hustle Lewd: Advantage, Thief King’s Fingers (7, 14)

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported, Exhibitionist, Round 3 (9, 16)

>Spring Lewd: Double Teaming, Round 2, Hustle’s Tongue Control (9)

>Darcie Lewd: Group Masturbation, Round 2, Fatigued (0)

>Gwen Lewd: Advantage, Round 4, Fatigued (5, -1)

>Roxie Lewd: Round 4 (12)

There’s plenty of lateral space, but you find Hustle has a lot more length than you. Each slam down is cut short by hitting the limits of your slit, and he has to pull back. When he pulls back you draw him the rest of the way out and angle him into your other hole. His dick slams inside, entry slickened by the mixture of your own fluids, sampled from your slit.

That’s when it properly starts. Your gasps and hitched vocalizations join Spring’s as Hustle expertly plumbs both of your insides. There’s more technique in his thrusts than you’d expect from the impressions he gave, and plenty of vigor- you feel the force every time his balls slam against your tail. Once he feels he’s switched holes, he angles his thrusts, adjusts his pace, finds his way up deep and tenses his gut to control the angle. Each nectar-fueled hump rams your internal pleasure buttons. Anal’s initial strain quickly turns into an enjoyable rhythm.

“Ah!” It hits too soon after your last, and your cock twitches with a nearly dry, flaccid orgasm inside of its slit. What little dribbles from the tip is forced out by Hustle’s rod striking your internal testes from below and squeezing it out. The pleasure has gone numb by now, making the tensing and relaxing sensations feel distant, dreamlike and strange.

Spring falls over to the side, and his tongue slides loose with a slurping noise.

Hustle takes a couple more slow thrusts. “You alright there, doc? Lookin’ like you’re done!” The Zigzagoon’s energy hasn’t been sapped out of him yet, and his semen retention remains successful. Biting back the sexual exhaustion, you grab his waist with your hindclaws and urge him forward.

“Finish first.”

Opting for the bandaid technique, he hugs you to him and engages in a rapid succession of mini-thrusts inside that leave you stunned and speechless. Until, at last, a flood of warmth hits your insides. And then another. And another. The size of Hustle’s load matches his visual virility, and you soon feel it leaking out and around your numb tailhole as he pulls out. There’s no feeling of emptiness left immediately in his wake, but it comes in a trickling river as the warm pool drains from your insides.

After a pause while you return to the material plane from the land of blinding overstimulation, Hustle takes your claw and helps you sit up, holding you steady. “Yeah. You’re definitely done now, buddy. You’re like a wet noodle!”

You rub your face. “I can maybe do- ooh, um, maybe o-one more… for Roxie…” you sigh. While you wouldn’t mind a turn on top of Hustle, you’re not sure you can actually cash that check and still have something left for Darcie. You’re not sure you can cash that check at all at this point.

“I think I’m in your boat, actually, I’m feeling the crash hitting me like- right now,” the Maractus interrupts you herself, letting her ear go and bounce back into shape. Beside her, Darcie’s foreclaws are both digging into the ground, and her tail twitches as she rides out her own orgasm. At some point her hindleg came free of Gwen, who has flopped over and is snoring.

Straightening herself, Darcie pulls her tail free and flexes it back in the other direction. “Ah, if you’re tired no need to force yourself,” she adds to Roxie’s voice of reason.

Everyone but Gwen gravitates to the wash basin, rubbing themselves and each other clean. “Sorry, Darcie,” you scrub some dried nectar off of her eye. “I know you wanted me to… you know. C-cum in you.” Then a thought strikes you. “Oh!” scrambling on shaky limbs, you reach out and pull a jar from the item bag.

“I started thinking about that around the third act, actually,” taking up a washcloth, Darcie wipes down Hustle’s tail. She pauses when she notices what you’ve grabbed. “What’s that?”

You slosh the liquid inside. “A jar of Leppa-based lubricant my friend gave me. I think it should give me enough uh, g-get up n’ go. For one more round at least.”

Rubbing water down his chest, Hustle perks up and sniffs the air. “That smells good! Good stuff. I prefer Leppa over Oran for lubricant too, they both give you a little extra,” he thrusts the air, “Mmf! Leppa’s juicier so you don’t need as many Berries. Who made it?”

“M-my buddy- er, my Guildmate, Victor,” carrying it with you, you rejoin them.

Hustle scratches his ear. “He did good. I’ll have to do some mixing with him when we meet up!”

Nodding along, you smile. It’s good your Guildmates have things to bond over. “So what were you… thinking in the third act, Darce?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Folding her cloth over the edge of the basin, Darcie twirls around with a pitter patter of her tiny feet. “How do I look?”

“Cute!” you twist your head and flash her a wink, reaching out to poke her in between the eyes. “And clean. Want to- to fix that?”

“Woo, one last show for the night,” Roxie raises her arm and pumps it tiredly into the air. Spring is squatting behind her, washing her back.

Allowing Darcie to lead the way, you follow her to the mat. With a rapid motion, she launches herself and curls in the air to land on her back. Nestled among the cushioning layers of straw, her steely eyes look up at you. A body made up of hard surfaces, sharp edges and poison, postured demurely beneath you. Carefully stepping up over her tail and working past its jagged sections. With every step it curls behind you, subtly boxing you in and urging you closer until you’re on all fours atop her. You feel the clenched loop of her pincers drag from the nape of your neck down to the tip of the patterns painted across your tail. “You like leashes?”

“Yeah, leashes and collars ah- are pretty hot,” you run a claw over the golden surface of Hoopa’s mark around your neck. Her tail drags back up to the nape of your neck, brushes past your frills, and crosses over the collar. Her pincers open and the round surface of her tail tip presses into your scales. Then they close, gripping you around the neck.

“Is that okay?” she asks. “Does it… do anything for you? Is it uncomfortable?”

It’s tighter than Hoopa’s collar, but you can still breathe. If your neck were any larger it might be too tight. “It’s okay,” you tell her, unscrewing the lid of the lubricant jar. It’s full, and you’ll only need a little. Dipping in your claws, you feel the smooth texture, and the ease with which they glide against one another in the slippery goo. A trail hangs between the tips of your digits and the inside of the jar as you pull out.

They sink slowly into her, working the lubricant over the insides of her cloaca. As you press against the edges she shivers, you feel every minute tremor that travels through her tail. After she’s nice and slick you refresh the coating from the jar and slide a pair of claws into your own slit, working them around your dick until it’s covered. Waves of refreshing energy begin to soak into the skin, and speeding up your body’s refractory.

Fur brushes against you. Spring and Roxie lay Gwen down beside you, still breathing loudly in her sleep. Spring collapses on Gwen’s other side, and Hustle sandwiches her between their thick blankets of fur. “You’ll probably regret that once it heats up in the morning,” Spring mumbles, wrapping her arms around the two of them.

Finally, Roxie awkwardly lays herself down on your other side, leaving a little space between herself and your poisonous pretzel. “Weird,” she comments, laying her head down. “I usually sleep standing, but I felt left out of the cuddle pile. You don’t mind, do you?”

“The spikes won’t bother my shell,” Darcie heartens. “Murdoch?”

“M-my scales should be okay,” you confirm.

Roxie pats your thigh with her claw. “Thanks. Now don’t let me interrupt.”

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Leppa Lube, Supported, Exhibitionism, Round 4 (4, 1)

>Darcie Lewd: Round 3, Fatigued (2)

Darcie is tight, and naturally dry. She was right about needing lubricant. Pushing your way in takes a concentrated effort from your leg and tail muscles, and you need to hold yourself on course with a claw to keep from slipping off and away due to the lubricant. During prep, your claws slid in easier, one at a time, with their tapering points and hard material. Your fleshy cockhead wants to squish against the surface.

Once you’re inside, it’s like a suction cup around you. There’s a little spark of panic at the back of your mind when you try to pull back to begin thrusting and feel yourself fighting against the grip. “H-holy, Darce you’re- ah-” a jolt rocks through your body as the attempt to pull out causes your dick to spasm and shoot its next load. “Ah… well, I made it- inside this time,” you cheerfully remark.

“That,” Darcie begins, clicking her mandibles and running her stingers over her lenses. “Oh, that’s in there. Yeah, I feel it. Is it always this warm?”

“Um, it’s always warm but- well, maybe not always, there are Ice type Pokemon and- I mean I’m Fire typed, so it’ll be warmer than usual,” you stammer back, then swallow and close your mouth. Reaching down, you stroke the edges of her opening with your claw, beneath the opened fold in her carapace.

“That’s nice,” she comments simply, allowing you to keep doing so. Her tail unclasps from your neck and you lower yourself down, resting your head between her stinger-joint and Gwen’s fluffy shoulder. The Leppa running through your system has you still hard, in spite of the numbness of the multiple orgasms. And still being hard means you’re still a bit stuck.

“That’s not good,” you mutter to yourself.

“Sorry.”

“No, not- not you,” rubbing the back of your neck, you try to pull out again, receiving another jolt of sensations rushing up your spine. “I’m stuck. Um, if I don’t g-get… un… un-ere- flaccid, not flaccid in too long, there could be like, tissue damage, necrosis…”

“What?” Darcie asks, concerned. “Tissue damage…? What’s a necrosis?”

“It’s-“

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (10, 18)

You stop. The panicked beating of your heart quells. A realization hits. “Wait. That doesn’t happen here, does it? Permanent injuries don’t really… happen.” Thank whatever deity or contest winner instated that rule.

“Does that mean you’re okay?” letting her tension relax, Darcie slumps her limbs to the ground, trapped underneath you. Not that she seems to mind.

“I guess so,” you whisper, realizing the others are probably trying to sleep. “I just can’t pull out.”

“Um, you’re welcome to stay. Inside. Overnight.”

Lodged erect in a girl all night long, and no worries about your dong falling off. That’s a unique experience you could never have back home. You’re sure your dick will regret this in the morning, but you try to settle in on top of her. “Sure. I hope we can come free in the morning though, cause b-being literally attached at the hip might put a damper on our uh, anti-King plans.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine when the lubricant wears off,” the curled loop of her pincers touches down on the nape of your neck again, tracing gently up and down your back. The gentle sensation relaxes your body. “Good night Murdoch. Good night whoever’s awake.”

“Good night Darcie,” Roxie mumbles.

“Ehdnm,” Spring attempts to communicate.

“Night everybody,” you close your eyes, and let the day’s fatigue crash down around you. You fall asleep.

>You have gained experience!

>You may learn Nasty Plot.

>Nasty Plot (Intelligence): The user may use Intelligence in place of an attacking Move’s normal attribute for the rest of combat.

>You already know four Moves. Forget a Move and learn Nasty Plot?

You fell. Smoke is swirling all around you, oily and flammable vapor, acrid with unpleasant flavors. It curls into pillars, tracing columns up the walls of your brain. Above you is a glimmering aurora, the abyss of color where you will meet with Hoopa. You feel him there. You reach out to touch the smoke, and your appendage is two, hand and claw, inside and outside, and made of spoiled rope and spinning coins.

You grip it. The pillar is solid. It will hold you. You can climb it.

There are trails in the smoke. You see them, like motes of dust in sunlight, hanging there. They leak in through the hole, pass through, and drift out again.

>Climb to Hoopa

>Follow the trail of eggshells

>Follow the trail of perfume

>Follow the trail of blood

>>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Reasserted Identity, Dependent and Alone, Extreme Difficulty (17, 10/20)

You cannot find the trail of smoke among the smoke.

Chapter Text

>You forgot Double Slap. You have learned Nasty Plot.

Vertigo swallows up from your stomach as the beating of wings carries you into the air, looking as if through someone else’s eyes. Then, the vision falls away. At the edges it frays and comes apart like unwoven threads. Not torn. Expertly tugged loose with a flourish, temporary by design. Like a quick-change costume at the theater. On the other side of the costume dressing your vision is empty space and an absence of color that brings the vertigo back- even worse. No more sense of direction or motion, yet nor do you feel still. Your stomach turns with seasickness from invisible waves rolling past you, bumping and jostling you as you bob in place.

As your eyes adjust to the absence of color, they begin to parse it as pink. Lavender-pink. A placeholder.

You try to look at your hands, but they are not there. There are hands, but they are not your hands. There’s no skin, and no scales. Curved pieces of metal, sharp edged coins spinning infinitely with no outside force or momentum. Each rotation their concave and convex warp and invert. Watching them is dizzying. Stands of thin fiber create a wire frame of fingers that interweaves with the floating coins. Hands over claws. They grope and caress the air when you don’t consciously stop them. You want to hold onto something. They want to knead something. You want to be needed. A warm oven blows its heat into your face when you open your mouth to breath. The edges of your mouth are sticky and difficult to pry apart. More stringy spoilage dangles between your jaws.

A hole the shape of the smell of cinnamon sits in your nostrils. It’s a place where a smell was that it now isn’t, noticed by virtue of its sudden absence. A trail of cinnamon holes dangles in the colorless expanse. They’re slippery.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Analysis, Easily Lost, Dependent and Alone (11, 15/14)

A new pathway in your mind probes for angles and weaknesses. It finds your own. You are not where you are supposed to be. You followed a trail. The trail is fading, but you can still follow it back. If you can find something to use to move. You try to grab the holes, but your coins slip off of them and they pass through your ropes. Something in your chest tries to pull away and reach out, but it can’t. The leather bindings have cracked with age, but still hold it down.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage, Baking, Combat (15, 6/6)

You breathe out the oven’s hot air in a flash of flame that shoots into the expanse of pink and then dies out. The force of your exhalation propels you, but you angled incorrectly. You overshoot the curve in the trail and float away from your only point of reference. Your ropey frame clutches at nothing in panic. Sucking in air, you taste the oven’s clinging, sweltering rush filling your chest and straining against the leather. The second exhalation carries you back onto the trail.

Breathe and drift. Breathe and drift. It carries on until you feel yourself crashing into-

You suck in a gasp of air and cough. You catch a whiff of cinnamon in your nose, but it is soon replaced by the smell of honey and coffee. A flower sits next to your face. Your head is lying against the underside of something smooth and round. With a claw, you feel it, groping a spherical joint. Darcie. You fell asleep on Darcie.

>Roxie Fitness: Disadvantage, Round 4 (15, 10/18)

>Roxie is Fatigued

Glancing to the side, you see Roxie asleep, spread eagle on the floor beside the bed mat and drooling from the side of her mouth. One of her flowered ears is resting beside your head. Sunlight filters in through the window, illuminating dust in the air. Judging by the temperature, it’s already approaching midday.

>Murdoch Fitness: Round 5, Out of Body Experience (2/22)

>Murdoch is Exhausted

When you push against the ground and try to sit up, you feel a faint sensation of vertigo. It’s nothing like the migraine you got last time, but you feel off. Off balance. Tired. Drained. Maybe that’s just the orgy hangover talking. Your hips are glued to Darcie’s by a sticky mixture of sexual fluids, kept moist by the warmth of your Salandit body pressing against hers’. Your half chub was resting in the outer crevice of her cloaca all night long once it finally came down, and a little bit of pre forms droplets at the head.

>Darcie Fitness: Round 4, Diligence, Heavy Sleeper (20/20)

“Are you awake?” the scorpion asks quietly from underneath you, already awake. She curls up to look at you.

“Uh,” you rub your face, “How long… youwer lying there awake?”

Her tail curves up and the rounded edge of one of her pincers runs down your back. “A bit.”

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Round 4 (18, 13/18)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Round 3 (15, 18/16)

A wet tongue drags up your cheek, and the furry lump that had been resting against your left thigh sits up. Gwen blinks sleepily, looking around the room. “Gmornn,” you say back to her silent-tongued greeting, following her look absentmindedly. Your tongue feels dry. You could use a drink. You look at the water basin, where Spring is already awake and wiping herself down. Hustle is shamelessly lapping up the bathwater, unbothered by Spring wringing a cloth into it after wiping away some dried cum from her fur.

You’re inclined to agree. Too drained to care where you wet your tongue, you peel yourself off of Darcie and waddle over, leaning in to quench your thirst. The water is warm.

“Can you really not wait five minutes to get out to the bar, or is this a new fetish?” Spring asks playfully. When you mumble a response through half-lidded eyes, you feel her hand grab you cupping your chin and turning you to face her. “You look like a pile o’ soggy grass. Maybe we overdid it a little.” Her mouth keeps moving and words come out, but they slip away as you topple over.

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Acrobatics (3, 12/8)

Someone grabs you before you splash into the water basin. You black out.

Someone grabs you and shakes you by the shoulders. You blink and look groggily around at the swimming mixture of colors in every direction, like the floor at an abstract art studio. “Murdoch! Are you okay? What happened?” you jerk towards the voice in front of you and stare into Hoopa’s face. He's close. Has to back up to avoid being poked in the eye by your snout.

All you can manage is, “Huh?”

“I was on my way to congratulate you on a rank up and offer you your Perks, business as usual, and then,” he lets go of you to throw up his mitten-like hands, and without the support you flop to the side, floating at a limp angle in the painted void. “You were just gone! I’ve never seen anything like it, your head was- just- you were empty! Nobody home! I thought you went braindead or something! I- I didn't know what to do!” genuine panic inflects the horned spirit’s voice as he shouts at you.

“I,” you hold up your hand. Your claw. It’s your claw. You’re a Salandit. This is normal. “Just. J-just give me a second… j—just a sec, Hoopa, need to- nneed to connect m- my, collect my thoughts.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Exhausted (6, 5/12)

Everything is still fuzzy, like your thoughts are being poured through a layer of cotton swabs. You feel like there’s something to keep in mind, but you can’t get a grasp on more than a dribble of hesitation.

>What to share with Hoopa?

>Questions to ask?

Chapter Text

You lick your lips. Your snout. The scales around the edges of your mouth are soft, and flexible. They taste of fingernails. It has become a familiar sensation to you, but as you try to recall the sensations, the strange and eerie impressions from the dream- it’s unusually easy. When grasping a fading dream, the outlines are clear, but details are fuzzy. Not so with this.

It is not the memories, but your mind as a whole that is fuzzy and tired. If you rattled off every detail, you would fumble and choke on them like a madman with visions spilling out. Seizing the feverish engine, you force it to painstakingly churn complex thoughts into digestible words, instead of vomiting crude grain. “There were th-three trails…” you say. Curling up your legs, you attempt to squat down and feel the bottom of the tiny world, but you’re floating and it’s out of reach, if there is a bottom at all. “No, no,” you realize, almost too late, that you left out critical context. His eyes are rapt upon you when you open yours’.

“There was another dream before, b-before that… that dream, the one that s-started this. I saw the King’s past,” Hoopa’s expression grows sharp, tense around his eyes. He doesn’t interrupt. “When he was in the real- the- I mean… the human world. He was… shot. A murderer, he got shot in revenge. Someone avenging a victim.”

When you swallow and try to collect where to pick up next, Hoopa fills the empty space with a question, “Who showed you this?”

“I don’t know,” reaching up, you grasp the sides of your head. “They weren’t gentle… not like y-you… or Victor.” You close your eyes again and breathe in. “You’re usually like mm-melted chocolate, or s-something, dribbling through my mind, coating it in information. This was… a battering ram. It cracked a hole in me. I wasn’t well for… a while. Victor said it was a psychic wound, w- it would heal but slowly.”

Mittens grasp your arms again, and Hoopa circles behind you. He runs a palm down the back of your neck, and you feel a crawling sensation throughout your being, little probes feeling out the capillaries of your self. He doesn’t ask permission, and there’s an unsettling silence from him. With Hoopa positioned behind you, you can’t see his expression, and you feel a knot of worry forming-

“Sorry,” Hoopa says. Of course, he would feel that worry while- they retract. You feel him pulling back out of you, and his hands rub your back. Sensations pool underneath them, pleasant, but not erotic. “I’m,” his voice is flat. Not flat from absence of worry, but from being compressed by it. “I’m responsible for bringing you here. I needed to know what hurt you.” Drifting around, he floats in front of you again. Disconnected from the rest of him, his hands continue to sooth the exhaustion in your mind. “I should have asked first. I guess I never asked before, but I thought this would be good for you, and,” there’s uncharacteristic vulnerability in this entire shift in behavior. “Taking what I want. I guess old habits die hard. Sorry if I scared you.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Exhausted, Moment of Vulnerability, Difficult (20, 12/16)

Hoopa has lost someone before. Another contestant, maybe? There are some threads to pull together. His grudge against the King, this feeling of being responsible if something happens to you that’s cutting so deep he’s lost his composure. You detect a familiar acrid tone in his final statement, acid turned inward. Deeper than responsibility, it’s cut deep enough to expose a bone of self-loathing.

“Did you?” you ask. “Ff-find out… what did it, I mean?”

“No,” after his response, Hoopa looks away. “Maybe. The list of psychics powerful enough to do this to you is small. The list that could do it without anyone noticing is smaller.” The hands massaging your back lift off, zeroing in to hug his own sides. “It’s not Victini, I can tell you that much. There’s no way he would get in here without everyone knowing.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Exhausted, Moment of Vulnerability, Lost Someone, Difficult (4, 15/14)

“But you do… know who it is,” your words cause his grip on his sides to tighten. He’s trying to hold it in, quell something- anger, fear? He doesn’t want to think what he’s thinking. It’s someone close to him? “Who is it? Who would want to show us- ah…” us? “Me, ah- about King’s past?”

“I have a suspicion,” Hoopa answers vaguely. “I’m going to look into it.”

“I think we’re… both in kind of deep to be keeping things from each other. Hoopa, could you tell me what you’re thinking?”

>Murdoch Charm: Cunning Linguist, Supported, Exhausted, Moment of Vulnerability, Suspect, Difficult (3/10)

He shakes his head. “Not yet. You said that was the first dream,” Hoopa changes the subject, loosening his grip on himself and resting one hand against his side. Trying to put back on some of his swagger. The attempt doesn’t quite reach his face, he doesn’t quite believe it yet. “Go on, let’s hear the second one. The one where I couldn’t find you?”

You close your eyes again, to picture it. “I was below. Below exactly here, I could see you. There were three trails… eggshells, perfume, and blood. I could see them in the smoke- there was smoke everywhere, like…” you can’t quite think of a good simile. “I was curious, after the first dream… I followed the trail of perfume. Perfume and then cinnamon, I still remember so- the smell feels like a word just at… just at the tip of my tongue. Vivid in its absence.” Your eyes open again. Like an actor behind drawn curtains, Hoopa has put on a change of costume. Shrugged off his moment of vulnerability, now watching you with a quirked brow. “I saw a dream through Victor’s eyes. It was about K-King, too.”

“A place full of smoke, right under here?” Hoopa looks down and descends, placing his hand against nothing.

“Yeah. You ah- actually know something about it?” hopeful, you perk up.

“Nope.” You deflate into a frown.

“Seriously? Don’t mess with me just to get your groove back…”

“I’m not,” pushing against the air, Hoopa hovers back to your level. “Seriously, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’m hoping the person I’m going to see will,” his hand sways through the air, and he gives you a suave smile you know is forced- but you might not know if you’d never glimpsed beneath it. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us some answers.”

“Right. Answers. C-can you answer me this?… Where is this?” claws swing around aimlessly at the colorful void, for it is in every direction and you couldn’t hope to miss.

“A dream,” his response is at once simple and vague. “It’s just being what it needs to be right now.”

“And how long was I- was I gone?”

Lower lip pursed, Hoopa looks backwards in his thoughts. “All night. Plus a few hours. It’s almost noon, but you didn’t go to sleep very early.”

“Y-you were watching?” You’ve half a mind to ask if he wants to join in next time. Maybe you will- but after, you still have questions. Too many questions.

“I was waiting,” he grins playfully, almost enough, “But I can guess what you were up to. Anyways, I’d guess you were gone for nine hours.” It barely felt like two. Dreams can be funny that way.

Rubbing your arm, you look down at yourself. “What about my real body? Was I- did- was I d-dead?”

“More like a coma. You were breathing, your heart was beating, but nobody was home,” eyes trained on you, you can still see how panicked he must have been when he found you that way. You would be too, if you found someone like that, unable to wake them up. “Oh, I guess you’re kind of passed out like that again,” he grimaces at the realization. “We should hurry this up, everyone must be worried about you. Let’s get the new boon out of the way, hey? You made Rank D, Murry! Not exactly famous, but people know you exist. That’s something. Something to celebrate after all this doom and gloom!”

“I’m like- I’m in the back of a moving truck, and I’m n-not tied down! I need to- to know, how can I keep my soul from- f-from dislodging from my head?” you try to pull him back on topic, but you can tell that he’s taking the out. “I don’t want to m-make them worry, but-”

He grabs you by the shoulder and flicks his wrist. “Then let’s not! I’ve got a few ideas how we can help you not get lost in the wherever you were. I’ll just tie them into my whole theme, replace some of the perks on offer. Nobody’ll know the difference at a glance.” Those ideas dribble over you and down through you, through the wrinkles again. The sensation tickles you in places beyond the physical.

>Murdoch's Guild has reached Rank D and earned a milestone perk. Choose one:

>When to Fold ‘Em: You can mark one location at a time. One of Hoopa’s collars must be at that location at the time it is marked. At any time later, you can teleport yourself to the marked location.

“I don’t know if this would work while your soul is hanging loose, but if it does you can always get back to your own head while my collar is attached to it.”

>Prisoner’s Conduct: Murdoch can make one extra golden collar at a time. The collars now protect their wearers’ minds from prying and interrogation. Others will be unable to force their way in, and psychic damage will be resisted. Your ability to command outlaws is exempted.

“Hopefully this would keep that presence from forcing its way into your head.”

>Thinking With Portals: Murdoch can create two linked portals on flat surfaces. Each portal is created separately and only becomes active when the second is made. Any new portal replaces one of the active two.

“Unlike that other one, you can bring others with you this way. I don’t know if it’ll help with your dream problem, though.”

>Choose one perk.

>After perk selection, there will be time for one more important question before Hoopa sends you back. Choose one question.

>>Ask if Hoopa wants to join the next orgy?

>>Pry more about the King?

>>Press him on his suspect?

>>Who did he lose?

Chapter Text

While having portals available is very tempting, you can’t help but feel unsafe in your own head after… well, everything recently. The mysterious presence, the King himself- even if he’s supposedly not able to affect you like he did Victor and the others. One claw reaches up and draws itself across the golden surface of your collar.

Earlier on, it felt constraining. Erotic, but constraining. You really weren’t sure if you could really trust Hoopa, or if this was all cagey gaslighting and coaxing you into willingly playing his game. Now, you really feel like you have his support. “I… think I would feel s-safer with the Prisoner’s Conduct.” There’s still a tension behind Hoopa’s expression, but it loosens up a little more.

“Here you go,” he reaches out and draws his own touch across the surface you just stroked, leaving behind a small ripple of golden light that spreads through the collar and settles. “You’ll have an extra when you wake up.”

“One more thing, before I go…” letting out a sigh, you clasp your claws together. It’s a difficult topic to broach. Hoopa hovers in place, waiting. “Sorry if this brings down the mood again, b- but, I get this feeling… the way you seem so worried, scared and- have you… lost someone before me?” Seeing a frown fall onto his face, you put on a soft expression. “I just… care, too. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

>Murdoch Charm: Cunning Linguist, Supported, Moment of Vulnerability, Lost Someone, Exhausted (7/6)

He looks away, avoiding eye contact. “You are pretty slick, Murry.” One hand travels up and tugs a ring down from his horn, then he takes it in both, turning it over as he stares into the space between. “When Victini was campaigning with King, things got really bad. This was the second time Victini was allowed to compete, and it was the last.”

You gulp. A small tremor between your clasped claws. “H-he killed someone? That shouldn’t be possible, r-right?“

Hoopa looks up at you, through the edge of his eye.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Exhausted (4, 19/12)

It’s non-verbal, but the look feels like a signal. A way to tell you something without telling you something. He can do that? How is that allowed? “There’s more than one way to kill someone. King didn’t, but he...”  Hoopa grimaces. “I’m already telling you more than I should about King, this is really- I don’t want you to-” his hands grip the ring and he stops talking.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Moment of Vulnerability, Lost Someone, Exhausted (15, 18/8)

Silence hangs in the air, with the implication that whatever happened to this person could happen to you, too. Hoopa warned you that if he got caught telling you too much actionable information you could be disqualified. You don’t care so much about winning the competition as you do being here, with Gwen and everyone else you care about. If you had to leave them behind…

Does disqualification means getting booted out at the end? King manipulated someone into getting disqualified, or… something similar? And they got booted back to whatever shitty life Hoopa pulled them out of. Just like he did with you. And then they…

The silence hangs around a little longer.

Hoopa places the ring back on his horn. “I think I’ve held you up long enough.”

He begins to wave his and to dismiss you, but you quickly take his hand in a claw. Something feels like it’s missing. You tilt your head. “N-y-you’re not going to make out with any of my holes today?”

With a forced playful laugh that drags a little too long, Hoopa turns up his palms. “Maybe I’ve just got boundaries on the mind right now. Who’d have guessed even I can show a little res-” you cup his cheek with a claw. There’s no resistance against pulling him a little closer and resting your snout against his mouth. This time your tongue slithers into his mouth.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Cunning Linguist, Supported, Exhausted (10, 16/10)

With your tired and leaden tongue, you don’t try anything fancy that would turn sloppy and flop around like a wet slug. A gentle touch of your tongues together, tasting the residue of…

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Exhausted (9, 9/12)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Exhausted (13, 4/14)

Meat, you think. Or junk food. His last meal was something greasy. You can’t quite place it.

Light pressure pushes back against your forked appendage. The contact feels good, and some of the tension knotted up in in your stomach unties itself.

After a brief kiss, you pull back and blink lazily at him. Hoopa’s grinning back at you. “Feel better now?”

“Do you?” you fire back.

“A little. I should really go. See you round, Murry,” with a wave of his hand, the dream falls away.

You’re on something warm and fuzzy when you wake up. Your mouth is still wet, so you don’t think it’s been very long. When you blink your eyes open and attempt to sit up, a hand supports you. “He’s awake.” It was Spring’s lap. Gwen is seated immediately beside her, looking at you with intense concern. Darcie and Hustle are seated on the opposite side, next to the water basin. Since you can’t see Roxie from your position, you assume she’s still sleeping.

“How long was I… out that time?” you ask blearily, rubbing your eyes. Something is resting on your stomach. It’s a gold collar.

“Not long,” Gwen rumbles. “What happen?”

“It’s complicated.” With Spring’s help, you push up into a seated position in front of her. The collar falls to the floor with a thump. Dipping a claw into the water basin, you splash it into your face to help clear some of the cotton from your thoughts. “Last night, I h..had some kind of- uh, astral projection? I went to Victor’s dream, or memory?”

Picking up on the implications immediately, Darcie asks, “Is this related to what happened before? That dream that strained your mind?”

Hustle’s head goes back and forth to watch the people talking. “Yeah,” you feel like falling back into bed again. Staying awake is a persistent struggle. But you feel more grounded than you were. The collar around your neck has definitely put you back in the driver’s seat of this trick. “I guess whatever I did, I was gone all night and ah, I never showed up to meet Hoopa in my dreams. Th-that’s where we talk’n perks’n stuff,” trailing off into a mumble, you slap yourself on the cheek. “Mm. He was worried so we- he met with me now, j-just now when I fell.”

“Hoopa,” Gwen snorts out of her nose. “Scaring me, is annoying. But Hoopa is right to worry. You are not okay.” She nuzzles her head into your chest, and you grab onto her for support to avoid falling over. You can see Roxie past her shoulder, and Spring’s. Still asleep, as you expected. Gods above, you wish you could join her.

“He gave me a boost to… to these collars,” you place a claw on the newest addition. “And a new one. They will protect minds now. I shouldn’t have to worry about that… uh, dream invader again.”

“I think Larissa’s crew were planning to discuss the building project with us today,” Spring briefs you, pouting her lip. “I don’t know if you’re in much shape for business. Maybe you should get some more sleep?”

>Rest longer to clear your exhaustion?

>>If so, do you ask Larissa’s Guild to wait, or send someone else to talk to them?

>Go see them yourself, push through it.

Chapter Text

Something about this wispy, dreamlike state of exhaustion does feel comforting. In a strange, baffling way. So many of your fears and worries feel duller and more distant, on the other shore of a foggy river. You take a moment to bask in that feeling. “I’m okay,” you say, reaching out and pat Spring on the shoulder. Though, this isn’t exactly the best state to be negotiating in. “I could use a Chesto.”

Spring fishes one out of the Guild bag and hands it to you. The firm flesh and crunchy outer shell take a long time to chew with your slack, sleepy jaws. It leaves your mouth feeling terribly dry again, even as you feel energy stirring in the muscles of your legs, your arms, your back. You stand a little straighter, no longer needing Spring and Gwen to prop you up. Another dip of your snout into the water basin quenches the thirst.

>Murdoch’s Exhaustion was reduced to Fatigue

“If I sleep now it would just, spoil my sleep tonight I think,” you explain, a little more lucidly. “Sides. Looks bad to miss commitments cause of… spontaneous orgies.” When you look at Gwen and still see concern in her expression, you do your best to put on a tired smile. “Hoopa upgraded my collars for my new perk. It’s… it’s safe, now. Nothing can force its way innta my head again,” taking her by the cheeks, you rub your claws down her neck. When her eyes close in contentment, you lean in and kiss her. It’s sloppy, and amounts to licking each others’ faces and teeth. It gets sloppier when Gwen’s jaws open wide into a yawn mid-kiss, and you slide forward along the side of her face, slobber trailing up your cheek.

She could be taken away from you.

It’s a cold, gnawing thought that cuts right through the groggy haze. They all could be. When you draw back from Gwen’s mouth, you feel that old familiar knot in your stomach. It was there when she left you, laughing all the while. Gwen isn’t laughing. The way she looks back at you after the disastrous kiss, molten eyes soft in a shift you’ve only just started to see in their sharp expression, only makes the cold knot tighter and more solid, like jagged jaws clutched around your organs. So real and heavy that you can almost feel the weight of it inside you.

“I-I…” you stammer and swallow, “I think when we get home we should mm-maybe start setting up a, ah, training routine,” beginning the thought as you approach the door, you think it aloud as you take the handle. “So we can be ready. Gwen used to do it, daily. We should… each do, something. Train whatever area we do- do best, so we can be ready for… anything.” The other collar is still in your hand. You should decide who to give it to right now, no reason to have it unused. You have one, Hustle has one…

“I can help Gwen put something together,“ trailing behind the two of you, Spring sways with a hand on her hips. “She’s not too book smart, but-”

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Combat (3, 8)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage (15, 9)

Gwen tries to kick her in the shin with a hind foot, but Spring dances around her and flicks her in the nose. “But, she’ll keep our butts kicked in gear and make sure we stay on schedule. Won’t you, Gwennie-bean?” Baring her teeth, Gwen playfully snaps at Spring’s fingers that hover a little too close to her face.

“I will,” your partner grunts back. “Annoying monkey.”

Gently taking the door handle from you while you stand there blanking out a little, Spring slides out of the room. “Love you too, Gwen,” she fires back, pivoting into the hallway of the inn. One of Gwen’s ears twitch and she cocks her head at the space where Spring was.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Fatigued (16, 15/10)

It’s brief, a flash before she scoots swiftly away, but you see Spring’s eyes widen and freeze up. Her playful grin falters in the moment she turns her head, only visible to you- standing in the cracked open doorway. She walks a little faster than usual away from the room.

You think she was as surprised as Gwen to hear the L-word slip out. The embarrassment that followed suggests more than just a playful, friendly shot.

Part of you is jealous she managed the courage to say it first.

When you look back at the room, you notice Roxie again. “Oh. Oh, yeah,” you shake off the momentary thought for now, “Should we wake her up?”

“I can do it,” trotting happily towards her, Hustle is halted by Darcie’s tail gently reaching out and corralling him away before he gives her an abrupt awakening.

“She’ll be thirsty when she wakes up. I’ll get her some water first,” Darcie counter-volunteers. She glances at the room’s basin. “Clean water from the bar. Then I’ll rouse her.” Skittering up beside you, she guides Hustle along like a Herdier watching over a lost Mareep. Together, you all follow Spring into the barroom.

It’s just about noon. Sitar music carries down from the stage, where the Scrafty dancer is taking a turn playing the instrument. Her playing style is more lively than the Sneasel, who is on the floor helping carry food to tables and chill water with icy breath. There are town residents here, eating lunches and chatting with one another, and with the Guilds around it’s more packed than you’re used to seeing. You don’t feel hungry anymore, not after the Chesto. Berries are fairly filling, and Chestos in particular are remarkably dense. The only one you see from the Jirachi Guild is Dino, Rusty’s partner, who is sitting at the bar.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Salandit, Fatigued (14, 19/10)

Your nose detects a lingering fragrance of female Salandit pheromones wafting from him, carried on a breeze passing through one of the windows. A Piloswine is parked next to him, as are the Banette and Meganium you saw the other day. Darcie splits off in that direction.

Rene, the Rockruff who was on guard, is sitting across from a Mankey, with a Drifloon floating above their table.

With business in mind, you approach the table where Ester, Michael and Caeser are sitting. Since the table itself seats the two little bugs, there’s plenty of room for your Guild members, and Spring has already slid into one of the empty places. You, Gwen and Hustle join them with a brief round of greetings.

“Somebody slept in this morning,” Michael observes, already getting riled up by the task of ignoring Spring poking him on the butt with a finger. She’s hyperactive right now, possibly trying to distract from what she said earlier. “Yet you look like you didn’t sleep at all. Exciting night?” he asks you, voice only a little judgy.

“Bad dreams,” you answer, rubbing your eyes again. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs and shakes his head. Finally, he looks back at Spring and snaps, “Can you stop?”

“Maybe. Can you give us a good deal on some building?” she asks, fangs showing in a wide, challenging smile.

“P-please, let’s not start uh, intimidating…?” you trail off, uncertain if it’s quite the right word. “… our business partners.” Folding your claws on the table, you give Spring a look. She rolls her eyes and leans back in her seat, giving Michael’s butt a break.

“Thanks,” the Cutiefly says curtly.

“How about we get a quick refresher, and an overview of what you’re looking for,” Caeser squeaks, seated with his forelegs between his hindlegs, tone all business. “What’s the deal with this, resort, was it? I’m not super familiar with the concept. Could you go into more detail?”

“Well, it’s sort of like uh, like an- inn,” motioning around at the Stargazer, you explain, “Usually they’re somewhere quiet, out of the way, or eh, exotic. They have special s-stuff they offer. Massages, hot springs, beauty treatments, food…” you list off on your claws, “Gambling and alcohol too, s-sometimes.”

“Sounds like luxury, somewhere a Pokemon with money would like to go,” the Joltik observes, visibly calculating the implications. “So you’ll want it to be fancy.”

“S-sort of, or, well. Sometimes they’re morre rrustic? Cozy, with simple structures and in- interesting art from local culture. You know, get away from the excitement, relax.”

To your surprise, Gwen speaks up on the subject. “Stepstone culture, worship Ho-oh.” She’s shot Spring a few glances, though the latter avoids eye contact. Now she puts her attention on the conversation. “Dig up fossils. Ho-oh blessing resurrect them.”

This time, Michael interjects, “I could come by and take a look at the local vibe after we finish here. Design some decorations that will both fit in and stand out.”

“Then there’s the buildings. The Steps region has some pretty hard ground, so digging the foundations is going to be some work,” Caesar begins.

“Actually, I have a- a someone for that,” you interrupt. “A Ground Type.”

“Oh,” quirking his head, a translucent lens flickers over one of Caesar’s eyes in a swift wink. He points up at you with a claw. “Proactive. I like working with someone who thinks ahead. Alright, foundations are taken care of. Let’s talk where to start-” setting his foreleg down again, pointedly, he declares, “You and us, we’re both just starting out. I know you don’t have the capital to get all of this done in one big chunk, and it would take us a long time to get it all done, which means we wouldn't be getting anything done for other clients while we work on the project. So how about this instead,” swishing the same leg through the air, the little businessman proposes, “We split up this resort project into facilities, work our way up to the whole ball of wax. To start you’ll need some sort of central building, for the lobby and business offices. And you’ll need at least one service to get off the ground and make the Poke you need cover more additions. You give me a list of all the features you’re considering, and Michael and I will settle on some prices for them, then you decide what you want first.”

It's a reasonable offer.

>What facilities are you considering for the resort?

>Do you want it to look fancy and flashy, or rustic and local?

Chapter Text

There’s at least one thing you’re sure of. “I definitely want it to match the local ah- aesthetic,” you nod your head and wave a claw in Michael’s direction. “Stop by, anytime, we’ll show you around.” His wings buzz, and he nods. He’s so small it’s hard to tell, but he does. “Let’s see, I want to include, e-eventually,” you begin listing on your claws. “A bakery- or, oh, a café. Yeah. I like baking and- Hustle and Victor both like to mix up Berry stuff.” That way you can all work together. Maybe even Percy, too. Your scales tingle a little just thinking about seeing him again. “We already have the oven and other kitchen… stuff, on the way. Part of the package should be a nice, comfortable area for guests to, um, interact. Ah- not lewdly, I mean, just a social gathering place,” you quickly clarify, knowing your growing reputation. “It should be stylish, relaxing, n-not gaudy or anything like that.”

“Ester,” Michael’s voice snaps the Morgrem out of a zone-out. “Can you take some notes?”

“Oh, sure,” reaching for their belongings, Ester grabs a pencil and some paper. He mouths to himself while jotting down what you’d said so far, and you pause with one claw up for him to finish. He's not very fast, and his penmanship leaves much to be desired, but it's... mostly legible, you think, from your position looking at it upside-down.

“I’ll include a kitchen to put all the utilities in for the café pricing,” Caesar concludes. “Next?”

Right then, the next thing. “A massage parlour,” you lick your snout. “Um. That one might be- or, definitely will be lewd… happy endings optional, but um, offered.”

“For now we can put up some tents and huts ourselves for Pokemon to stay in, or get their whole massage package deal,” Spring points out. “We can probably handle that ourselves. But comfier bedding to put in them would be a good place to start.”

“Or- and a massage table,” you add. Ester jots down the second idea. Just the one, for now.

“But eventually, you’ll want something nicer for guests to stay in,” your Buggy merchant intuits. “Either nicer individual yurts, or a more centralized sort of building. You can let me know what you think when you’re ready. Next?”

The most important thing in a spa is relaxing in something hot and wet, at least in your opinion. “I don’t want to just uh, appropriate one of the local hot springs, or go digging around and ruin the groundwater, but um,” you think it over as you’re in the midst of saying it. This seems like something to discuss with the priestess and the other locals. “I do want a hot spring or heated pool or something. D-do you know how plumbing works?“ You are met with blank looks from all around. “Like, u-using pipes and suction to move water around?”

“Sorry, but that sortof human-ish sounding building, it’s a little out of our range right now,” carefully spinning it so that it could be a future offer, Caesar suggests instead, “We could put together some washing basins for you, sortof like what they’ve got here at the inn, most inns really. If you have any other ideas about the heated bath idea, you keep me in the loop.”

Gwen’s voice rumbles next to you. “I am sure Neha and others be… helpful. Happy to help. Lots of springs, no reason can’t use one.”

With a shrugging motion of one of his claws, Caesar adds, “If you get permission, we can put up any kind of structure you need around the spring.” Some of them are pretty high up, like the one where you bathed with Victor. It’s an excellent view, but there’s something to be said for safety railings when wet people are walking around wet rocks.

“Okay. We’ll backburner that, f-for now. So, next would be somewhere for Hustle to make like, um, potions and- maybe, b-booze? Can you make booze?” you ask, glancing over at him.

Jaws hanging wide open, Hustle sucks in his tongue to answer, “Oh boy. Doc, I can make booze, can I ever! All kinds from different kinds of plants and Berries and stuff. Like I told you before, the Bluk-stuff, now that’s a real noggin’ cleaner. Bluks are already sort of booze, the juice inside can get you drunk normally. So if you concentrate it, woo! Concentrate it as concentrated as you want to get drunk.”

“Somewhere to brew potions and alcohol, I can see about that,” the Joltik merchant confirms. “Would you also want to have a bar lounge, separate from the café? Somewhere for more alcoholic beverages?”

“That could be good,” you agree. A different sort of atmosphere. “On the subject of the B-berries, we might need a- a greenhouse or something for Darcie, with better dirt and… somewhere for ones that don’t normally grow in the climate there.” Ester jots that idea down next.

While you’re thinking of other ideas, your attention drifts to the stage where the inn’s in-house performer is serenading the guests with pleasant music. “Maybe adding a stage to the café area, or… an amphitheater- e-eventually, somewhere for performances, or… educational stuff maybe? Or if other Pokemon in the village want to use it for something.” You’ve got some ideas about barter economy with wild Pokemon and the village’s communal favor system, so that you aren’t shunning them from your services in favor of the city slickers.

That puts you in mind of some other public services you could help establish. As attractions and conveniences. “We could talk to the villagers about um, a sports field- or, I guess Mama could help with that…” Getting the ground in the right condition seems more like a Ground-typed task. “But stands… maybe an elevator- they’re like um, a mechanical lift. It is quite a walk up and down, to go in and out.”

“We might need to bring in someone with more mechanical knowledge for some of these,” in spite of his comment, Caesar nods at Ester to note it down. “If you find or know someone, we can definitely help with the materials and assembly.”

One other idea floats around in your head. Maybe put there by the whole story about the labyrinth. “What about ah, a… a mock mystery dungeon, but like a ss..sex dungeon. With sexy doms staffing it, or mmaybe a few subs, and they could pretend to be Empties.” There are more than a few quizzical looks from around the table.

Spring rests her chin on a palm. “Sounds like a niche service, but what do I know.”

“Don’t like it,” her ears folded back, Gwen shakes her head.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Fatigued (15, 16/10)

Between her tone and body language, you sense personal ire in Gwen’s response. Not towards you, for suggesting the idea, but at the idea itself. It brought something up. Something sour she doesn’t want to be reminded of again.

Smoke and eggshells.

“Um, let’s cross that off,” you nod at Ester. He scratches out the last entry. “I think that’s j-just about all my ideas for now.”

“Let us just confer on the pricing,” Michael pulls Caesar aside to go over Ester’s notes, and the two little bugs direct him through the document, adding concrete amounts to each idea.

Soon enough, Caesar drags a finalized list of facilities to you, and presents it. “Here you go. Ready for you to contact us and start gathering materials once you have the funds. Naturally, if you are able to source the materials for any of these yourself, we can adjust the pricing accordingly.”

>Facility Menu

Café: 100 Poke

Café Lounge Add-on: 200 Poke

Bar: 100 Poke

Bar Lounge Add-on: 200 Poke

Stage: 50 Poke, can be added to a café or bar or built outdoors on its own

Brewery: 400 Poke

Greenhouse: 400 Poke

Inn Building: 50 Poke per room, 20 Poke discount for each comfy bed already available to move in

Nice Yurts: 50 Poke per yurt, 20 Poke discount for each comfy bed already available to move in

Comfy Beds: 20 Poke each

Massage Table: 20 Poke

Wash Basins: 10 Poke each

Amphitheater: 200 Poke for a small one, 400 Poke for a large one, 50 Poke discount for existing outdoor stage

Sport Field Stands: 50 Poke per stand

Elevator Assembly: 100 Poke, if you can find someone who knows how to build one

As you peruse the document, you find that each of the major projects would cost about two to four small bounty or rescue missions, or one major gang bust, judging by some of your Guild’s past missions. Catching gangs of criminals seems the most lucrative, the fort rapists altogether provided you with 300 Poke. Since that was the price of your oven, you think most of the cost of the brewery and greenhouse comes from specialized equipment. The prices also take into account Mamachomp’s help with laying foundations for the buildings. “If my- friend was unable to help with foundations, how much m-more would it be?” you ask, for posterity.

“I’d say tack on another 100 Poke for any building you need us to do the foundations for,” Caesar replies.

With your current funds, you have enough to start with something like a café and a massage table, which you could house in a hut. Spring seems confident the Guild could put some huts together themselves, for basic accomodations.

There’s a yawn from behind you, and a verdant claw squeezes your shoulder. “Morning sunshines. Won’t stick around since you’re dealing with the business, just wanted to say thanks for a fun night,” Roxie cuts in with a conspiratorial wink, giving Hustle a scratch behind the ears as she passes him on the way to her own Guild’s table. Her brief touch makes the Zigzagoon’s leg kick and thump against the floor. Darcie quietly slides up to the table next to Spring just a moment later, as if she’d always been there.

Once you decide if you want to lock in any projects right now with the Mesprit Guild, you’re feeling the call of home. Darcie can have the third collar for now, but you consider Victor for later. Maybe it could help him with the King’s lingering influence- though, your pessimistic side doubts it. Those hooks don’t need to puncture… they’re already in deep.

Is there anything left you need to do at the outpost before the road takes you?

Chapter Text

“So, I’m thinking,” you begin looking to Darcie as you speak. You instinctively think she’d have the best understanding. “Um. We’ll want to lay all of the foundations in advance, so uh, we aren’t- I don’t want to bother our Garchomp friend too often. And- well, that way we have a real building plan, not just like-” you wave your claws around, exploding them off of a central point, “T-tumors growing off of the first thing we build.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” she softly agrees. Resting her face-needles on the table, she asks, “Do you want to try drawing up some plans with me when we get… home?” she seems uncertain about that last part. It’s your home now, certainly, but still a place she’s never been.

“Sounds great,” smiling back at her, you settle on a couple of things to put payment down for. “I’m looking forward to getting back to Stepstone Village again. Let’s start with a café and a massage table.” With these, you can put your fingers to work at both of your talents. With the kitchen equipment you purchased, Hustle and Victor should have no trouble brewing some teas and squeezing juice for drinks. “I kind of l-like the idea of a stage,” you add hesitantly. You’re not sure what performances you could put on there. Naturally your horny-brain jumps to evocative dancing or porn. “But I think we can- we put together a basic stage ourselves?” A nod from Darcie gives you a bit more confidence in the thought. “But if we have trouble, I’ll let you know.” Fishing out payment from the Guild’s bag, you count out the money for Michael and Caesar.

With a series of insistent buzzes, Michael reminds Ester to gather the payment, acting as the larger body and set of hands for the two tiny merchant-artists. “Pleasure doing business with you,” Caesar extends a tiny blue claw, and you shake it with two of your own. Playfully, you smirk and hit him with the joy buzzer, which causes him to shoot into the air hilariously, landing just inches back from your clawtips. “Oh! What was that?”

Snickering into a claw, you tell him mischievously, “A little taste of the product, heheh.”

Not surprised by your antics at all, Michael doesn’t miss a beat. “When can we expect you back at Stepstone? I’ll want to take a look at the aesthetic and run some design ideas by you, before we get started on furniture and decor.”

“Mm,” humming to yourself, you rub your claws together. “We’ll have to- to visit our Garchomp friend again before we go, I f-forgot to set up a psychic link with Victor.”

“I thought I mighta misheard you, befriending a Garchomp. Wild one I’m guessing, out there in the big golden yonder. That’s real impressive,” praising your achievement, Caesar rubs his claw where you buzzed him. His fuzz is still standing on end.

“She’s not so bad. Just has a… a different way she wants to live,” resting your claws back on the table in front of him, you continue laying out your journey in your mind. Tallspire is on the way home, and you could stop there to sell some things and pick up some jobs. You’re also curious about that Nickit you met before. If you plan on including some brothel services later, he seems… professional in that field. And more importantly he was aware of King’s bullshit, somehow. Percy is someone else you’d like to visit… for business and for pleasure. “A few days, I think. Three.” Neither of them are too out of the way. That would be about three days, at most.

“Understood.” Another annoyed buzz, and Michael points at Ester’s paper. “Mark that down- oh, you did it already,” he stops when he sees Ester already writing. “Good. Thank you.”

“I’m learning,” Ester responds. You detect a hint of snark. It’s good to hear. Means he’s coming out of the fog, a little, you hope.

“Good,” repeating himself, Michael tries to smooth down Caesar’s bristling fuzz. It just ends up making his own puff out from the static. “We will see you in a few days, Murdoch and company. Safe travels.”

The purchases have left you pretty low on capital. You’ll get some back when you return the bottles for the deposit, but you’ll keep them until you return from visiting Mamachomp. First you have some people in the outpost to say your farewells to. As you’re leaving the table, Hustle gives Ester a big hug. “See you ‘round Ess! Come visit us later!”

“I’m sure Michael will bring me to carry his stuff,” the Morgrem assures his Zigzagoon friend. “I… I’m still not totally clear on what happened, but thanks for… thanks.” Rubbing a hand up Hustle’s back, he scratches him behind an ear. Smiling, you turn around and leave them to their moment. He’ll catch up.

While you search the inn rooms for Rusty’s, you ponder on some future plans. Amor could be a good business partner to bring in, since she already has contacts who know her. As a plus she seems very fun. You’re starting to feel a little pressure with the number of people you’d like to bring in. There are only two official Guild slots left, and after that you’ll have to hire people normally and probably pay them in wages instead of exposure and a dream.

A greenhouse seems like the first major project to get underway, which will generate goods for sale and to supply a brewery next. Then, a bar addition to the café.

“Darcie, I’m thinking of sw- switching out some of my Moves,” you say. “Maybe we can do some sparring, o-on the way back wherever we stop.”

“Sure,” she agrees without any fanfare.

With the girls trailing behind you, you trace the trail of evidence to one of the doors. The unmistakable scent of female Salandit pheromones setting off all the wires in your head. One small advantage of feeling tired and out of it and drained from last night’s orgy is that you have an easier time ignoring the insistent voice of your penis. Reaching out, you knock on the door.

“Be right there!” you hear someone shuffling against one of the bed mats on the other side. Muffled, but it’s Rusty’s voice. “I’ll be right back,” he insists. Then, the door cracks open and he peers out. “Oh, hey Murdoch. What’s up?” Much like your room, his still smells of sex. But while you had Roxie’s flowery nectar smell to mask some of the odor, he’s only had a female Salandit. After a moment’s hesitation, he opens the door further and you can see Astra lying on her side on the mat, her tail slapping the ground impatiently while she eyes the back of Rusty’s head. Trails of warm liquid run down the side of her tail from her cloaca. Apparently she’s not done with him yet. You’re surprised not to see Leanne with them, she wasn’t in the tavern.

Walking up behind you, Gwen rests her head on your shoulder and locks eyes with Astra through the doorway. After a beat, Astra looks away first, and Gwen purrs in satisfaction. “Hey, Rusty,” you hold out a claw. “We’re heading out. I just wanted to say goodbye. I-it’s been, um, nice. Hanging out with another human who uh- who gets my… interests.”

“Yeah,” one of his ears flicks to the side, and he eyes your claw with idle suspicion. When he opts to take it anyways, you shake his soft paw, and decide it would be more amusing to spare him the joybuzzer he was expecting. “I think it was good we met, Murdoch. Good luck. And be careful, I don’t want to hear about you falling victim to this King creep,” he adds in a hushed voice.

“Do you know where Leanne went?” you ask. “I’m- uh, I guess I shouldn’t assume-” you look back at Darcie. “I thought you would want to, you know, say goodbye too?”

“I would. Thanks.”

“Nope, not sure where she went,” Rusty answers. “She left earlier this morning. That girl reminds me of my friend’s Purrloin, she just sort of does her own thing,” setting his paw back on the floor, Rusty squints one eye. “Maybe she went to check on the plants?” That makes sense. She might be flighty, but her garden didn’t look neglected, and now she has two of them to look after for the community.

“Thanks, Rusty. I’ll keep in touch,” sharing a last wave, you exit and he closes the door to return to Salandit-sating duty. Gods help him.

When you step out into the heat of the day, you have to cover your eyes at first to adjust to the full-on daylight beaming back off of the sand. Spring helps Gwen take a gulp of water from her bottle, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. When she catches you looking, you waggle your fins at her. Just letting her know you know.

“Sorry!” a cheery voice bumps into you from behind, as Hustle scampers out of the saloon doors. “Oops. Sorry!” he repeats. “That was a long hug. So where we to next, doc?”

“Well,” you look towards the gardens, across the oasis from one another. Leanne is in fact over there, but not tending to the garden in this moment. She’s sitting at the edge of the water, looking at it. She’s definitely seen all of you, from the opposite shore, but there’s only one person her eyes are trained on. One leafy hand raises partway up, and she holds it on place in the air. Then, putting aside whatever was holding it, she waves at Darcie to come over.

“Do you mind if I go talk to her on my own?” Darcie asks.

“Of course not, go ahead,” you encourage. “Hustle, you and Gwen can stay inside here where it’s cool if you want. I’ll take Spring to see Mamachomp, and then we’ll get on the road home.” Sniffing the sandy air, you give Gwen a sympathetic look. As much as you hate being apart, you know the desert doesn’t agree with her.

Before Darcie goes, you hold out the last golden collar. “And you can wear this, i-if you want. It gives some protection from mindfuckery. And um,” you fiddle with your claws along the golden edge of the ring. “We might be gone an hour or two, so if you, you know, w-wanted to give Leanne a real goodbye… the collar can make you a bit stronger, when you indulge in k- in kinks.”

“It couldn’t hurt to,” she thoughtfully and vaguely agrees. Stepping closer, Darcie allows you to fit the collar onto her. “Thanks. I’ll make sure I’m ready when you get back, don’t worry.”

Darcie scuttles away, leaving tiny pinprick footprints in the ground, and Gwen drags herself under your arm. Then she curls behind you and presses her head under the other arm, her tail curling under your chin. Embracing you in a full body hug, she licks your cheek. “Don’t be long.”

“W-wouldn’t dream of it,” you scratch her under the chin in turn.

“Guess it’ll be just the two of us,” from the tone in Spring’s voice, you can tell she knows what’s coming, She takes the bag from Gwen and takes out an apple. “We don’t have much money for breakfast. What kind of Berries do you two want?” opening the bag, she presents it to Hustle and Gwen. “Just one for now, I think we’re in rationing territory.”

Gwen predictably plucks a Pecha in her mouth after extricating herself from your warm back, panting from the heat. She swats your face with her tail as she passes, back into the inn. Hustle’s claw hovers over the bag, wavering in indecision. Spotting a Shuca, he snatches it up and is already nibbling on it as he waddles on his back legs after Gwen.

“I think Darcie is having breakfast with her,” looking across the water at the Snivy and Skorupi sharing some kind of Berry together, Spring looks for the right word. “Whatever they are.” She may well be projecting that uncertainty onto them from her own thoughts. Cinching shut the bag, she tosses it over her shoulder like a backpack and takes a bite of her apple.

>Murdoch Fitness: Fire Type, Species, Supported, Fatigued (5/6)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Fire Type, Survival (15, 12/6)

>Murdoch is Exhausted

It’s a hike back out into the desert to Mama’s den, and with the sun already at the apex of the sky the heat is sweltering. Spring has no trouble at all with the march, even when you start out trying to jog it and get back quickly. That energy fades at about the time you burn off the energy boost the Chesto’s caffeine content provided.

As a Fire Pokemon, you’re putting off as much heat as is coming in. Spring doesn’t mind. She’s holding the apple core leftover from her breakfast by the stem and flipping it up into the air, then catching it on the way down. “This thing is going to stink by the time we get back I bet,” she jokes.

“So why you- are you… lugging it around?” you pant, the air exhaled in front of you causing heat ripples to shimmer through the air.

“Feels weird just littering it in the desert. Leanne can use it for compost, or something,” she shrugs. “And it’s entertainment.” The yellow flesh between two red poles spins up into the air once more. The two of you pass over a harder patch of ground, where some thorny-leafed plants are waving in the wind.

Swallowing down a stream of hit spit, you sigh. Teasing Spring would be much more fun if your energy was up. “So you love Gwen, huh?” Spring’s fingers miss the stem and snatch the air. The apple bounces against the dirt below. Missing her beat for only a moment, she uses two of her prehensile toes to snatch it from the ground and twirl it back up to resume its role as her marching baton.

“Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” you have no trouble saying so, when it comes down to it. Maybe it’s just out here, one on one. Yet, even now the word dances around just out of reach. Maybe it’s just easier to say when you don’t say the word. You and Gwen have all but said it. You should say it.

Saying something makes it real.

Gwen said the word so easily when she was helping you pull a joke on Victor. You’re not sure if she understands the full gravitas that word holds over people.

Does she understand?

“I was gonna… tease you some about it,” you say out loud, as you claw your way up a sloped dune. “Hff. Really, can’t think of… how now though. Too droopy.”

“You are looking pretty slinky. Need another pick-me-up?” grabbing you under the arm, Spring helps you get to the crest. She pats the item bag.

“Nah, no, no… don’t want to waste all the… all the Chestos,” waving a claw, you turn it down for now. You still want to explore more of this strange phenomena in your sleep. The smoke and dreams. And if you plan to do that again, you’re going to need all the help you can get, getting up in the mornings.

Silence takes hold for a while. Keeping up with Spring takes enough energy that you don’t have any to spend talking, not until you build up the reserves. That silence allows thoughts to percolate through the filter of your brain cavities. Hers’ too.

>Spring Will: Disadvantage, Said It, Arrogant (12, 10/10)

“I guess you don’t really know what you,” Spring starts, trailing off. She huffs and stops at the top of the next hill, setting the apple core against the ground. You can see the peak of the labyrinth’s roof over the sand hills ahead, not far now. “I think I was so bitter with her because of how attached I was, without knowing it.” It’s hard for her. A lump of pride to get around in her throat. “And when we got in that argument and split, it felt like she was never really on my side, or like she didn’t feel the same attachment I did.”

You mull over her words. “You’re scared she w-… hff, wouldn’t say it back if you said it seriously?”

“Or wouldn’t mean it,” Spring rests a hand on her hip. “Not like lying, just, wouldn’t really get it.”

“I think that’s just a normal fear to have.” It’s one that’s plagued you since her. Fear of a love that isn’t really love, that could disappear when they realize they can’t get what they want out of you. Gwen felt different. That’s what drew you to her. No bullshit in her, she just cuts right through to the point. You feel confident she would never lie to you. But something true now isn’t always true forever, and that’s never a scarier thought than in love.

“And now,” Spring continues, “Whatever this thing is the three of us have going on, or the whole Guild now, I don’t know if I’m really in it or if I’m just a third wheel. Fifth wheel? I mean you bang a lot of Pokemon and she doesn’t care, am I just one of the extras?” She sighs heavily with a shrug of her shoulders. “I like this. Whatever it is. I just don’t know if trying to reach too far and make it… more, would ruin it.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Exhausted (19, 10/14)

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (5/10)

You begin to crawl your way down the hill, and Spring follows. Just as you begin to open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what in that moment, then you hear a shifting in the sands, and turn around. A tall blue blade scythes through the sifting earth like water, straight as an arrow. Then it curves around you and raises. Mama Garchomp’s head pokes out of the sand, yellow star first, then her eyes, and she stops to watch you. Spring is caught off guard when Garchomp appears, jumping when she notices.

“Oh, hello,” you raise a sagging foreclaw. “How… long were you there?”

“This hill,” she grunts, pulling her mouth from the sand. She spits dry particles from her tongue. “You come back. Too much. Come back like a bad cold.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Exhausted (12, 18/14)

It’s an oddly human turn of phrase, for someone who prefers not to hang around humanish societies. What she says, itself, doesn’t feel hostile. She’s definitely annoyed at all the interruptions, but you think she’s just giving a… friendly warning. That the frequent visits are getting tiresome.

“Do you need help? The foundation, now?” she asks.

“I- I actually just… just was going to have my friend,” you wiggle your claws next to your head. “He has telepathy. Can talk from a long, long… ways away. With our minds. So was, was just going to set up so he can ‘call’ you later. Since it’s… so far to walk. I mean, if that- that’s okay, that is?”

>Murdoch Charm: Supported, Dealmaking, Tribute, Massage, Exhausted (3/6)

Mamachomp grits her teeth. Literally, you can hear some grit caught in them. “Sounds annoying.” Reaching out of the sand with her claws, she pulls herself loose and shakes off the streams that run down her sides like water. “Do not want wiggly psychic claws in my head. Do not want someone who can talk at me whenever they want.”

There’s no uncertain terms in her voice. The walk may have been for nothing.

Maybe not for nothing. You got to talk to Spring, and you have a lot to think about talking about on the way back.

>Press the issue?

>Give her a date to come to Stepstone and see about the foundations?

>Just come back later?

Chapter Text

Upsetting Garchomp is the last thing you want to do. Earning her trust took effort, and regaining trust is always harder than earning it the first time. Forcing yourself to smile in understanding, you nod your head. “Right. Yyeah, it can be ah, it’s a strange concept. I get it.” Swallowing down some nerves, you steady yourself using Spring’s shoulder. At this rate they may end up carrying you home. It would be convenient to have a Pokeball right about now. “Um, I was thinking, someone is coming to work with me on plans in three days, in Stepstone village. Do you know where that is?”

Mamachomp sifts her teeth back and forth, the sound of them running against each other might have sent shudders through you if your body had the energy to spare on shuddering. “Not well.”

“It’s in Groudon’s Steps,” Spring mercifully intervenes with the directions. You find yourself relying on her more and more while you struggle through these metaphysical issues, and a sense of gratitude lightens your stomach. “You know where that is?” Mama nods. “Alright. It’s in one of the footprint canyons. You’ll probably see smoke from cooking fires and use that to find which one.”

“Yes. I understand,” the dragon confirms.

“So, I was thinking,” you repeat, “In three days, I’ll draw up the plans snn.. and then, you could come in five days- so, two, two days later than that.” It will give you some extra time to finalize designs instead of rushing everything on one day, or just in case somebody ends up late for some reason. “And we could get all the foundations done and, ah, all at once. And I can give you a- a thank you massage and stuff. Then you won’t need to travel far all over again.”

Your proposition has improved her mood. The expression on her face is still naturally stern, but her tailfin pats the ground more softly and you think that means she’s okay with the arrangement. “I will do that. Five days.”

“Five days,” you nod. “Um, sorry for uh, for d-disturbing you so much, this is… I won’t make a habit out of it,” you meekly add in apology. “We’re heading home now, actually. So um, mm, it was nice to meet you and- I look forward to seeing you again. Um, just not too soon.”

“Be well,” the mama dragon responds shortly to your awkwardly mumbled goodbye, and turns to dive back into the sand. Her fin glides smoothly homeward, and you do the same. Turning around to face home. Turning around to- Spring turns you in the right direction, yes, this is the way home.

You’re too tired to talk, at first. Just huffing and puffing to get over the next two sets of sand dunes. Around then, you need to stop and take a breather and a drink of water. “Whew. Lords, can’t wait to go soak in a hot spring.”

“Word,” Spring sprawls out on her back in the sand, kicking one foot over her knee. “Hey, sorry if I made things weird with-” you stop her by placing a claw on her knee- bumping into her toes, nearly falling over, and then placing a claw on her knee.

“It’s okay. I,” you’re almost certain the stream of consciousness babble you’re about to spew is a good thing. Tired-you tends to be more… less hesitant. Unfiltered. Spring could probably use that right now. In the pause between words, it is more a matter of lining them up in the correct order to make sense than jigsawing them into a manicured speech. “I had a really bad relationship before this and, and I get what you mean when you say it’s… it’s scary to say the l-word and, and say it and mean it. Uh,” you rub your face. The train got derailed somewhere. “I loved her so much. And then she just- laughed at me and threw me away, like I didn’t even matter.” A trickle of tired tears form at the edges of your sand-dried eyes, lasting only briefly on your desert cooked black scales before they are reduced to imperceptible, sticky trails of salt.

Her paw finds your back. When you rub away the annoying dryness, Spring is sitting up again. “Yeah,” is all she says. It’s not okay, because it’s not okay. You’re glad she gets that. Her other paw rests over yours’, on her knee. “For what it’s worth, I like you. That’s a less scary l-word, huh?” It does bring a smile to your face.

“I like you too, Spring. Ah, thanks for, all the everything, with- with everything,” you succinctly put it, wrapping your tail around her hindquarters. The flaming tail just above her backside is hot against the underside of yours’. “I’ve been such a, a mm-mess and you held everything together. With the errands and and the getting things together with Mesprit Guild. I’m really glad I met you.”

Fangs showing, Spring grins. “Who do you think took care of the business end back in the day, hm? … You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re not a vegetable.”

“Yeah, me too.” You take your claw from her knee, slipping it out from her paw, and hold it between you. “I’m stnn still figuring all this out too, this Guild-wide uh, polyamory polycule thing. If, uh, if it helps to out a name to it how about, what do you say to friends-with-benefits? Maybe, and, maybe something more than that- someday. But at least that, for now. Friends with benefits.”

Looking first at your claw, and then meeting your eyes, Spring takes it. “Friends with benefits.”

“And Gwen Fan Club.”

“And Gwen Fan Club.”

With a heave, Spring picks herself up, and you along with her. The break is over, and the trek begins again. You’re leaning on her more than a little. “When we first met I was, I was definitely thinking about poaching you from the other Guild pretty soon,” you mumble. “You know, um. You’re are, were, uh, kind of an ass.”

“Thanks.”

“But I could tell, good too. You were good too. Good person.” Though the eye pressed against her cheek is too smushed shut to see anything, you can feel the heat in her cheek. “And the teasing and taunting and everything I kind of like it so- ss. Gwen does too. She said so, remember?” Thinking back to the first time the three of you were all intertwined together, you smile. “She said she likes this. I don’t know if she’s… ready to get the big l-word yet, but she’s been growing a, a lot since before. And she likes you, and us, and this. You feel free to keep being you okay? We like all of you.” The arm holding you steady squeezes your shoulder.

“I’ll do my best not to get too domesticated,” she promises.

“Mm,” you rub her chest like a body pillow. “It’s cute when you wrestle.”

“I think Gwennie-bean’s gonna need to carry your ass back to Tallspire, dude. You need a nap.”

>Murdoch Fitness: Fire Type, Species, Supported, Leaning, Exhausted (13/6)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Fire Type, Survival, Leaned On (2, 14/8)

With careful breathing, a shoulder for support, and the occasional pinch to snap you out of a doze, you’re able to remain on this side of consciousness until you reach the outpost. What follows is a blurry series of exchanges between yourself, Spring, Darcie and Gwen, then Hustle and Spring help you climb onto Gwen’s back.

“Hmn,” you try to say, and an appendage rubs your back.

“We’ll wake you up when we get there,” a female voice says.

“Don’t worry I’ll make sure you don’t fall!” Hustle.

You curl up around something warm and black. You let the dark shroud of exhaustion clot around the wound. No smoke. No trails. Just rest.

The world shakes. “..ere. ..ny..o..re?” Words slip across a dizzying layer of fuzzy nonsense between your you and their everything else. Little dribbles of sense soak in but not enough to form a coherent sentence.

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Travel Nap, Exhausted (11/10)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (1, 5/10)

>Gwen is Fatigued

>Murdoch is now only Fatigued

Pulling together the wet noodles inside your skull, you command your limbs to move. A claw finds purchase on something, and you pull yourself upright. You’re riding on something’s back. Your eyes open. Black and gray. You’re holding onto an hear. “Ps, sorry,” managing to string sounds together, you let go of Gwen’s ear and stroke her neck affectionately, then look to either side.

You can feel two limbs on you. They’re on your hips area, holding you steady. Hustle is on the left, his paw. Darcie is on the other left, her pincers wrapped around your waist. “Wha that?” you ask, seeking the source of whoever said the words that stirred you from the black darkness of eternity.

“I said it’s Tallspire, we’re here,” Spring is at the fore of the group. Grass on either side of the cobbled path, ahead is an intersection. One road circumvents the city, the other goes across one of the bridges and goes inside. “Do we have anything to do here?”

“Thanks,” you say.

“Huh?” she looks back. You motion at yourself and then point at her. “Oh, yeah. I know I’m awesome. Need me to slap you awake?”

“And ooet myself,” winding up, you let your claw impact your cheek with a resounding splap. The pain sting knocks some things back into place, percussive maintenance proving successful.

Tallspire. The Guild stops at the intersection, waiting to see what you have to say. Gwen is noticeably panting, from the effort of carrying you this far. You slide off of her back, nearly tumble and fall on top of Hustle, but Darcie’s scorpion crane helps you slide down with more grace than a sack of rocks. You scratch her- Gwen- under the chin. ”Thanks,” you say to hers, both of them.

It’s late. After the slow walk to the labyrinth and back, then walking here, it’s evening. First day out of three before your first appointment, evening time. The cool air is helping you teeter back into consciousness, as the groggy residue from your dreamless nap gradually blows away. Some of it still clings to your thoughts, and as you stare at the shapes of the tall buildings you feel a queasy sense of unease. Your nose twitches, detecting hints of… something. Something familiar and offputting.

Darcie moves between Hustle and the bridge, though it doesn’t look like the current guard has noticed anything unusual. An Ursaring. “It might not be good for Hustle to be alone around here for now, or even seen,” she points out.

Letting out a small whine, Hustle looks in the direction of the castle. “I’m, I can be brave doc, if you need me to go in there. I’m pardoned now right? Clean as a whistle.”

>>Visit Tallspire? You have time to do one thing before it’s dark, and one thing after dark. Guild members can be dispatched to do other tasks.

>Sell Kalina at the apothecary some Berries for cash, and/or talk to her about where to get brewing equipment (first action only)

>Talk to Enzo at the smithy about where to get brewing equipment, and/or where to find an engineer for the elevator idea (first action only)

>Talk to Cree at the bounty office to officially declare Hustle pardoned, and/or see what the current postings are (first action only)

>Go to market and buy some more food (first action only, you are low on cash and may need to haggle)

>Visit the library where Victor used to work and find Arch (first action only)

>Investigate the pawn shop from Victor’s dream, either overtly or covertly (what you may learn depends on time)

>Investigate Wade’s Guild, either overtly or covertly (what you may learn depends on time)

>Investigate the castle, either overtly or covertly (what you may learn depends on time)

>Investigate Hustle's old shop, either overtly or covertly (what you may learn depends on time)

>Search for that Riolu knight you’ve been thinking about

>Search for Scotch, the Nickit prostitute

>Live up to Hoopa's name and steal something (from where?) 

>A trail of eggshells

>A trail of perfume

>A trail of blood

>>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Reasserted Identity, Supported, Fatigued, Extreme Difficulty (3, 18/18)

>A trail of smoke

>>What to do about Hustle?

>Bring him along

>Send him ahead to meet up on the road, with or without someone accompanying him

>>It will be dark soon. Where to spend the night?

>Find an inn (you are low on cash, so you may need to find somewhere cheap or haggle)

>Camp along the road to Windmill village

In the morning you, will continue the journey to Windmill village, unless something happens to prevent that.

Chapter Text

“We shouldmm,” you shake your head, and pat Hustle on the head. He’s still wearing the collar you put on him when you ‘caught’ him, so he should be safe from any King shenanigans. “Gwen?” you say. Her ears perk up attentively. “Take him ahead abit, on the road to Windmill, p-please. Start getting camp ready and um, take a break… you m-more than earned it,” ruffling the fur around her neck as well for good measure, you pull the two of them into a quick hug.

“Be safe,” Gwen orders you, firmly, as if you needed a reminder.

As she pads away, Hustle licks your cheek and bounds after her, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll save you a comfy spot!”

Waddling alongside Spring and Darcie, you make your way to the bridge. Your claws scrape against the cobblestone whenever you fail to get a solid grip on the spaces between. “So where are we headed?” Spring asks.

“Well,” reaching into the bag slung over her shoulder, you produce the Guild Card. “Darce?” She looks up at you. “C-can you go to the bounty office and report Hustle’s pardon as a recruit? It’s uh,” you raise your claw and point it around, already feeling lost as you try to recall the layout of the city.

“That way,” with a finger, Spring indicates a road down the riverside, on the opposite end of the bridge. “The signage should be clear enough, she’s a smart girl.”

Taking the Guild Card with her tail, Darcie examines it. “Okay. I’ll… cover up the embarrassing parts?”

“If you want,” you shrug. You’re used to it by now. An arm wraps around your shoulders, and Spring side-eyes you expectantly, waiting for her assignment. “I think we’re getting sh- s-sort of short on food. We have Berries but those are more valuable, and- um, could you go haggle for some cheap food in the market?”

“I can probably score us something affordable,” she agrees, letting go and swinging the bag around to peek at your collective funds. “Yeah. Worst comes to worse we can split a couple apples.” Flexing her neck, she tosses the bag back into place.

“After dark, can you two meet up and-” what you want them to do is find that Riolu and get a read on him, but you’re not sure how to justify getting them to scope out a guy you think is cute.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (17, 1/12)

 “Um, there’s a…” you quiet down as the three of you pass the Ursaring guard, who barely gives you a nod. Once he’s out of earshot and you’re all gathered at the street corner you finish, “A Riolu who’s with the King’s knights. They’re like- they have special senses and stuff. If he seems trustworthy and a-and a good person, maybe we could turn him to our side? Get someone or- some info on the inside?” For an excuse come up with on the spot, it’s not a half-bad half-baked plan.

“I guess we could give that a try,” Spring doesn’t seem too sure about the idea, but she shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. “They must have a lodge around here somewhere. Or maybe he has a night patrol? I don’t really keep up with the Knightly news.”

Addressing the monkey, Darce asks, “Meet up here?”

“Sure.” Taking one step towards the market, Spring pauses and spins on her heel. “Wait, that was all us. What about you?”

“F-for starters, I’m going to visit Enzo,” you’re pretty sure he’s along the river’s edge somewhere. You’ll find him eventually going along that street. “You know, ask about some equipment and stuff, f-for the resort.” Reaching back, you rub your bandity frills. “Then there’s someone else I want to find. That Nickit from before. And then, I’ll see you all at camp?”

“We’ll meet you at the bridge out,” with the small correction, Spring spins back around and waves over her shoulder.

Darcie is going in the same direction for now, so you take to walking beside her along the riverside road. You get a glance and a small gesture of her stingers that you’ve come to recognize as a smile, but she doesn’t seem to be much for idle conversation.

It’s the ting of hammering metal that lets you know first, that you’re there. Then it stops, and the smell comes. Steam rises up through the forge’s chimney, and the smell of metal flutters down on the hot air as it cools. Then, the ting again. “I think this is your stop,” Darcie points out, just in case you missed it. You find yourself standing outside of Enzo’s door.

“Looks like it. See ya, Darce,” waving to her, you step forward and take the handle.

“See you soon,” her voice cheerfully chirps back.

Hot air rushes out of the opening, and you enter Enzo’s metalworking shop. He’s stooped over a… door handle? It’s a door handle, you think that he’s hammering into shape right now. Broad and curve. His tail flame waves in the cool breeze that gets sucked in from outside in equivalent exchange. One of Enzo’s eyes flickers up to see you in the doorway. He doesn’t stop working on his current task, but you see him give you a sideways smile.

After the hammer rings die down in your ears, he calls out, “Be with you in a second! This is the last project for tonight!” Your eyes deduce that the latest door handle will soon find itself deposited among an array of others, finished components of whatever order he’d gotten, five other door handles. They share the shape of the one he’s working on, engraved with a wireframe pattern down the front that he hasn’t added to the current one yet. You spot a metal stamp- a template used to press the shape. Some new building must be going up or getting refurbished to need all these matching door handles.

Enzo isn’t alone this time. An array of spherical creatures, black and gold with shields slotted into the sides of their bodies. When you acknowledge them, they each turn towards you and their shields briefly pop out, then clack back into place. “Greetings, customer!” the nearest part of the troop of Falinks calls out, in a deadly serious tone. The rest echo after their leader in unison, “Greetings!”

“Um, hello,” you awkwardly wave, taking a few steps forward. You’ve never met a… species quite like them before. This is your first time seeing a Falinks in person. “You m-must be Enzo’s assistants?”

“Correct,” the leader responds, clacking his shields. The rest bob their heads in agreement. All of them is head, really. “We are the metalworker’s assistants. You may refer to us as Assistants.”

It’s an unusual name, but you’ve been calling someone Mamachomp for the past couple of days so who are you to judge? “C…cool.” Curious, you hold out a claw towards them for a handshake. The leader steps up to met you and shifts his shield forwards, placing the- the middle part against your palm. The boss. To your surprise, the material doesn’t feel metallic. More like bone or horn.

Just to see what might happen, you send a joy-buzz through the bony surface, and all of the troop’s collective blue eyes widen and flicker with inner light for a brief moment. The leader jerks back, looking at the inner curve of his shield plate. “What was that?” they all ask, at once. Interacting with six bodies with one brain feels strange, you don’t know who to look at when you talk.

“Oh, um, I just have a special touch is all,” smiling, you take a seat against one of Enzo’s water barrels. He’s just cooling the last handle now, after impressing it with the same wireframe pattern as the others. “You delivered m-my kitchen stuff?”

“They did! Are you harassing my Assistants, Murdoch?” Ezno asks playfully.

“Maybe a little. I’m um, open to joybuzzing you too, but I came to see you for business talk too.”

Once his last handle is set down with a clang, Enzo turns over his open sign to a closed sign in the window and flops to a seat on the floor in front of you. “Sure, go ahead, talk away! You’ll be my last customer today. Was just about to close up, the neighbors don’t like me banging on into the night, you know,” he laughs and rubs the back of his head, a slight blush around his horns when he realizes he might have made an accidental innuendo. “Assistants, this is Murdoch. He got the kitchenware and oven.”

“We hope you are satisfied!” the first one says, clanking its shields. The others follow suit in time with one another.

“I was just on my way home to- to see it for the first time, actually,” you rub your claws together. “And I was thinking about commissioning some more stuff. Erm, not now, I’m kind of broke. But pricing it out for later?”

Holding out his claws in front of himself, Enzo turns them over. “Go ahead.”

“I’m going to be starting a resort and spa in Stepstone Village,” you open, then shyly scratch your neck. “Eventually. It’s going to be more like a small massage service and café to start. A-anyways, one thing we want to do is brew our own alcohol and- and other mixtures, like… potions and things. I was wondering how much that might… be?”

Enzo thinks to himself, one claw tracing up and down the underside of his snout. “It would be a similar amount of work to the kitchen equipment. I would say 400 Poke or so, but maybe there’s some… things that could be done to, er, discount some of it?” He’s trying very hard not to seem like he’s propositioning you for sexual favors. “I mean, like the deliveries you helped with last time. Not exactly that but I can find something if you’re really short on Poke.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking, Fatigue (17, 6/10)

That would make the deal Mesprit’s Guild proposed extremely generous, with he combined cost of the building and equipment similar to what you would face getting the equipment made by someone else. You recall that Caesar is a pretty savvy businessman himself. If the cost of materials and the going market price have enough wiggle room between them, offering their services at a lower cost than the existing competition would make it easier to get the Guild’s name out there and build a client base.

You might still be able to maneuver yourself into a better price range by going through Enzo, though. He’s been very willing to exchange work and favors for discounts. There’s definitely room to haggle with him.

“I’ll keep that in mind, once I know what I’m doing,” you say, not committing to anything yet. “I was also thinking about in- installing a lift at Stepstone to make it easier to,” wiggling your claws in the air, you motion up and down. “Easier to get in and out, avoiding the climb. Some sort of a- lift,” accidentally repeating yourself, you rest your claws in your lap. “Do you know anyone who would know how to design something like that?”

“Well,” his tongue slithers out clumsily, tasting the air. It’s a lot like a snake or lizard’s, but much slower and clumsier. And thicker… “There’s a city civil planner who works for the King, named Zuzanna. She designed the roads and street lamps, among other things. Other than her, I remember a fellow from the city library asking me prices for mechanical parts before. Arch, was his name. I believe he and some friends of his built the place together.” Somehow, things find their way to circle back around.

“I see…” you thoughtfully trail off. “Thanks, Enzo. That helps a lot, actually. D-do you want a,” continuing to rub together in your lap, your claws clasp around one another. “A quick massage before I go?”

Enzo looks at his Assistants, who remain oblivious to any deeper meanings exchanged in those words. “Uh, maybe another time. I could… stop by your new place? Maybe we could work out a membership deal.”

Shoving yourself back to your feet with your tail- you feel very satisfied at how good you’re getting at moving around in this body- you try to sashay pleasingly towards the door. “Something to think about.” Taking in a big breath through your nostrils, you smoothly part with, “I’ll smell yo- you,” almost smoothly, “Later, Enzo.” He nervously waves back at you, until the door swings shut behind.

Sunset has turned into sundown. Only a purple rim of light hangs on the edge of the horizon now. A Koffing and Charmander meander down the street together. The Koffing floats up to a streetlamp and sucks in a deep breath, inflating. Mouth wrapping around a spout on the lamp, the Pokemon blows, hard. The gasses continue to fill the lamp’s reservoir until the toxic balloon releases the spout and drifts down, inflating slowly. The Charmander opens the lamp and raises her- your nose definitely detects this one is a her- tail flame to light it, then she shuts the glass. They move on to the next one.

Now to find that Nickit. You remember you ran into his strange corner of the city when you were lost, but that makes it awfully hard to retrace your steps.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue, Easily Lost (5, 5/14)

>Murdoch Luck: Advantage (Good, Bad)

Lamplit stone streets blend into one another. They form rings emanating out from the castle and the central plaza before it, but you can’t remember how far out the Nickit’s street was. For that matter you don’t recognize any of the buildings where you end up. It doesn’t look like a rough neighborhood, actually you were sort of trying to get to the rough neighborhood.

One of the buildings could pass for a mansion, if not for the large warehouse-like structure attached to it. There’s a wooden sign on the street, before the walkway through a manicured yard, that calls it the Dungeon Finders Association. It sounds like some kind of guild- or, the usual sense of a guild rather than the sort with divine patronage.

“Fancy seeing a familiar face out here,” a familiar smooth, sultry voice touches your earbones, and you jerk back to look at a Nickit pawing up the street behind you. His golden eyes don’t gleam in the lamplight. If anything, they look a darker brown than the amber-color you’re familiar with in the daytime. “Looking lost as usual.”

“Oh, actually, I was looking for you!” you exclaim, laughing over it. Then you nervously look away. “I mean, I did get lost while looking for you.”

“Maybe we’re both lost, then,” he playfully teases, dragging the edge of his tail across the underside of your cheek as he walks past you. “Maybe that’s where we are. Lost.” Twisting his hips around, he seats himself in front of you. Scotch eyes the sign beside you and shakes his head. “I must be mistaken. This is the Finders, not the losers.”

“Uh,” you’re not sure if that was a backhanded turn of phrase or not. If so, it was self-deprecating. “You, that is…”

“You were looking for me, yes, you said that. Are you looking to make use of my services?” You see a glint of lamplight in his mouth, off of his tongue piercing. A pit of vertigo opens up in your stomach at the sight of it, and your scales crawl. When you look back up at his eyes, they are gaping holes, leading into an impenetrable blackness. Startled, you stumble back, but the moment your eyelids blink the strange vision is gone, and he is normal again. Scotch tilts his head. “…Are you alright?”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (7, 16/12)

Something about the sensation reminds you of one that Victor experienced in the dream or- the memory you stepped into. The Zangoose in the alley. He was the only one without jewelry, though.

Missing. Lost.

>What to talk about with Scotch?

>After you conclude with him, you will rejoin the others for the night.

>Currently you are considering following the trail of smoke tonight, but part of you also wants to rest and recuperate. These astral jaunts are strenuous on your mind and body.

Chapter Text

Doubts cast by the unsettling vision roil in your head. Part of you still hopes for allies in this city, but the fear is stronger. Holding your cards close to your chest, you swallow down the nerves and reassure him, “It’s alright. Just- shadows play tricks at night, you know,” the fidgeting of your claws lends credence to nervousness that is anything but false.

Scotch blinks slowly and flicks his ear, turning his head so that his side profile is towards you. The Nickit’s eyes trace the lights and chimneys of the large Finders’ building. “I’m naturally very at home in the dark. Sometimes, this place can be so loud during the day that it’s hard to hear yourself think.” His tail sways from side to side, conversationally like a person waving a hand. “What brings you looking for me so anxiously in the dark?”

“It’s-” glancing around, you take a few steps back the way you came. ”Mind if we walk and talk?” Evidently not. Scotch moves fluidly to his feet and plods along behind you, then beside as you waddle. You aren’t sure yet if you can trust him enough to recruit him, but he does have an expertise you could use. “I’m planning on making a- a resort. A place where people can get away from the tedium and- and the noise,” drawing on his earlier comment, you weave it into the sales pitch. “Or step from the wild into a little bit of comfort. Just, not with all the tedium and noise they ah, live in the wild to avoid.”

“Mhm,” humming to let you know he’s listening, Scotch glances between you and the road ahead.

“Part of the services is… I was going to have a massage service, and sexual services available. And I was wondering- you’re the only uh, prostitute I’ve met here, so I was wondering what your prices are like.”

Each of his pawpads treads softly on the cobbled ground, noiseless. “Casual sex isn’t very hard to find if you have the courage to look,” the fox explains, tone steady, “So it’s all about the experience you sell. I have soft fur, nice paws,” he stops long enough to lift one up and trace the knuckle along your hip as you pass, then easily falls back into step with your bipedal walk. “And a fluffy tail. It’s nice, but not unique. I charge 5 Poke for a quick, vanilla romp. Enough to keep food in my mouth. The clients are either too shy or too unpleasant to hold together a relationship, so it’s a mixed bag.”

Licking your snout, you intuit, “B-but a more unique experience would be worth more.”

“That’s right. I have a very nice voice, and some of them like to be talked to. The ‘boyfriend treatment’. That one I charge 10 Poke for,” he carries on. “Then there’s the strange kinks. They’re the ones who might look for a service, because finding someone willing to experiment or stick with it, well, that’s not so easy. I charge up to 50 Poke for that. More or less, depending on how into it I am.” Scotch raises his chin. “It makes for easy work when you’re enjoying yourself.”

Processing the information, you stow it away for now. “Thanks. That does help.” The walk brings you past some familiar buildings you know you passed already, satisfying you that you’re on the right way out. “I-I’ve kind of just been slutting around for bread and favors,” you admit, loosely.

“So I hear,” voice playful, Scotch sashays ahead, maneuvering to your other side and then letting you catch back up. Then, he slows, and circles you from behind, ultimately coming around to his original position. “Salandit are nice to look at. Warm. Sensory. Long tongue,” he wistfully laughs. “A skilled tongue goes a long way.” It sounds like he’s given you a… review of your assets. It sounds positive.

There’s another thing you find yourself curious about. “I’ve been thinking ab-about accessories. For my Guild,” you find your eyes tracing the movements of that jewel as he speaks. “Is that a… symbol of a group, th-the tongue piercing?”

Letting his tongue loll out, Scotch does his best to stretch it up to where he can see it. You giggle at the humorous display as he ends up licking the tip of his own nose to no avail, and snakes it back where it came from. “You could say that. It’s a community tradition.”

Wondering further, you question, “W-where did you get it? Is there any um, significance to the gemstone, like uh, good fortune or calmness, or s-strength? D-does it um, help with oral?”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dependent, Fatigued (3, 6/14)

>Murdoch Charm: Cunning Linguist, Dependent, Fatigued (7/12)

“It’s a community thing,” repeating himself, Scotch effectively gives no answer to its origins. “They’re important to us, but they don’t really do anything.” Through the drowsiness and unrest, you have trouble distinguishing his intentions. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s something he’s concealing, something sinister, but that might just be confirmation bias. There’s no difficulty in Scotch’s easy smile that would imply something wrong. “I’ve had good reviews. Only 5 Poke if you ever want to try it out.”

“K-kinda short on money right now,” you murmur. To his credit, he doesn’t immediately lose interest the moment you reveal you’re not a paying client. Or is there something else he wants from you? While you’re trying to measure him out, he must be doing the same.

You come to the riverside road. You’re on the opposite side of the city from where you’re meaning to be, so you’ll have to scamper to catch up with the others or they’ll get worried. “I should get going,” you jerk a claw over your shoulder, taking a few steps back. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“Maybe I’ll see you next time you get lost,” turning around, Scotch watches you over his shoulder. “Go get found, now.”

One awkward wave later, and you waddle away from the strange Nickit, then fall to all fours and scamper.

Darcie and Spring are on the bridge. Legs folded under her, Darcie is watching for your arrival, and prods Spring in the shoulder with her tail. The Chimchar had been leaning on the railing of the bridge, chatting with the Phanpy guard watching it tonight. He’s outfitted differently from the rest, with a rubbery pseudo-Donphan strip along the dorsal side of his armor, designed to work with his natural body shape.

Raising her paw, Spring wiggles her fingers at you. “We were starting to worry,” she calls out.

“Not lost!” you call back. “Er, well a little lost but not badly.”

>Spring Intelligence: Cooking (19/8)

>Spring Charm: (19/10)

When you reach them, you see Spring’s bag is fuller than it was. “Found some food?”

“I did, and I got it cheap,” Spring responds. Grabbing the edge of the cloth, Spring opens it up to show you four apples inside. They don’t look like the best haul, you see dark bruises on them. “These were probably going to get thrown out by snooty city Pokemon, but they’re fine. I looked them over for any damage, shouldn’t be rotten or anything just bruised. Talked my way into getting the bulk of the ‘garbage’ fruit for just 5 Poke.”

“Oh! That’s pretty good,” you nod your head and do your best to sound impressed. You are! The apples just don’t look very appetizing, which is a dampener on the excitement.

“I know, I know, not exactly a five-course dinner,” swinging the bag back over her shoulder like a bindle, Spring throws a cheeky wink at the Phanpy, whose broad ears flop slightly as they perk up. “I might just take you up on that dinner sometime when we’re back in town.”

“Great! I mean, cool,” smoothing down his excitement so as not to appear too enthused, the little elephant walks up to you and extends his trunk. “You must be part of their Guild. I’m Kalem.”

Taking the appendage in hand, you smile at the shiver you elicit with a little touch of your tingle. “Murdoch. I’m the leader, actually. It’s, nice to meet you too.”

“Uh, oh yeah,” he laughs and pulls back his trunk, stepping side. “You must have places to be. I should let you go.” You wave as you pass, and Darcie gets up to follow you across the bridge.

On the other side, as your trio steps onto the path through the grassy fields, you look back over your shoulder. You catch Kalem watching, and he looks away when he’s caught. Spring is feeling more comfortable now, you think, with where things are right now. “So,” the cute guard is making you think of another cute guard. “That Riolu knight, did- did you find him?”

>Spring Intelligence: (13/10)

>Spring Charm: Arrogant, Competitive (2/14)

>Spring Fitness: Advantage (1, 6/10)

>Darcie Charm: Disadvantage, Righteous Purpose (8, 13/8)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage (6, 14/10)

Though Spring is in as high a spirit as ever, Darce has been quiet since you reunited. She opens her mouth to respond, then pauses and looks at Spring. You start to worry something went wrong, but Spring takes over the report casually, “We found the knights’ lodge. They call themselves the Order of the Ribbon or some crap like that, heads full of the King’s hot air these bunch. I don’t know what they even do.”

“They… are supposed to prevent and solve crimes in the city,” Darcie speaks up, to fill in.

“Yeah, supposed to! If they were any good at their jobs I wouldn’t have a job,” smugly, Spring jabs a thumb into her chest. “Anyways, they were talking about those outlaws we caught and talking shit so I told them if they were gonna talk shit they should back it up, and we ended up arm wrestling.”

There’s a long pause. “D-did you win?” you ask.

“Eh,” Spring waves her paw through the air as if clearing away a bad smell, and clears her throat. That’s a no.

“While she was doing… that,” Darcie speaks up again, looking off to the side when Spring shoots her the evil eye, “I did speak to that Riolu. He’s still in training, and he’s very interested in finding the cause of these disappearances. He’s been feeling put out that the other knights seem to be shrugging them off.”

“So he seems like someone we could trust?”

“For now,” the Skorupi looks up at you while she speaks, this time. “Knowing what we know, I think he’s onto the King’s victims. If he goes poking around on his own I think he’s going to end up brainwashed or worse, but he’s still under the King’s spell. Nothing but nice things to say. I don’t think you’ll get through to him easily without using recruitment.”

It’s mixed news.

“And uh, how did the jailhouse go?”

>Darcie Charm: Disadvantage, Diligence, Righteous Purpose (3, 5/6)

Mouth stretching wide open, Darcie flexes her stingers in a grimacing sigh. “I… may have gotten in a shouting match with the Lairon who runs the place, when she complained about Hustle. I um, almost let slip too much but I stopped myself.”

“Oh. Well, that’s-”

“And… I may have gotten us banned from the bounty office,” she stares at the road shamefully. “Sorry. I dug a deep hole in this one.”

Spring pats the back of Darcie’s tail. “Whatever. We’ll figure out a way around it.”

>Gwen Intelligence: (14/10)

>Hustle Intelligence: Disadvantage, Snooping (4, 7/8)

Armed with news good and grim and a bag full of mostly appetizing apples, you arrive at the camp site. Gwen and Hustle have stamped down the tall grass in the area and dug up a pit at the center, surrounding it with some stones. The fire isn’t lit yet, it looks like they were waiting for the walking lighters to show up.

“Who’s ready to cook some dinner?” instead of lighting a fire, Spring deposits herself in the pit ass-up. She reaches back to slap her butt cheek, causing her flaming tail to wobble and flick back and forth. “Come on, I got your grill right here. Heat controlled and everything. Let’s caramelize those apples.”

Coming over, Gwen has a bundle of greens in her mouth that she dumps on the ground next to the stones. It turns out that she found some wild asparagus while she and Hustle were gathering stones for the campsite. “More food for us,” she says, taking a seat beside you. You pick up one of the slobber-damp greens and take a test bite. The flesh is crisp and tough, definitely a healthy vegetable.

Darcie takes the bag from Spring’s back and extracts the apples with her tail stinger like a crane. Careful not to squeeze hard enough to puncture them and get them stuck on her blades, she sets them among the asparagus. “We just got done hiking out of the desert. I don’t know if I’m drunk enough for butt-grilled food tonight,” her skeptical tone does nothing to dissuade Spring from shaking her rear in the air.

“We’ve got a Bluk somewhere, we can fix that,” the monkey calls out. “And you don’t got to stick it in or even on my ass unless you’re feeling nasty. Just hold onto it, I promise not to burn you.“

Gwen isn’t off-put in the slightest, picking up a stick of asparagus in her mouth. She tosses it in the air and catches it until she has it by the end, and she dangles it over Spring’s au naturel campfire. “I guess you really can just cook food on her tail?” you ask, picking up one of the apples to give it a try, holding it over the flame by hand. Even if her fire weren’t strange and magically unwilling to burn you, you could probably just do this with a regular fire.

“Mm,” Gwen agreeable grunts.

“This baby really is temperature controlled,” in demonstration, Spring causes the flame to flare up higher. Your claw is unbothered, but she ends up scorching Gwen’s asparagus. Growling, Gwen sets a paw on Spring’s face and smooshes her cheek into the dirt, to which Spring just laughs. “I’ll eat it if you don’t want it, I don’t care if it’s charred.” Successfully grifting herself into Gwen’s first cooked veggie, Spring adjusts back into a comfortable position once the pooch trots back to get another.

>Spring Power: Advantage, Cooking (10, 6/8)

True to her word, Spring is excellent at getting her flame at just the right temperature for each of the two items, though she can only cook one or two at a time. The hot apple doesn’t taste appreciably more like Spring’s butt, when you try it. Nor does it taste any worse for being bruised. After you give Darcie a bite of it, she warms up to the idea and tries cooking some butt-grilled asparagus next.

Hustle is too lazy to hold his over the flame and just sets it conveniently between her cheeks.

“Do you guys know any campfire songs?” squatting on his haunches, Hustle looks dopily around at the assembly of faces. Gwen quietly shakes her head.

“This is my first campfire,” Darcie answers.

Sticking the last piece of the charred asparagus in her mouth, Spring sets her chin on her hands and finishes swallowing it before she says, “I learned a few from my dad, we went camping a lot when I was younger.”

You raise a claw. “I- I actually know a few too.”

Once everyone has had their fill to eat, you join Spring in leading the group through a short series of half-remembered songs, humming or mumbling through the foggy patches. Time whiles away until the night is long, then Guild gathers in a big warm pile on the flattened grass, and sleep comes easily.

Easily to most. Your mind is still spinning with worries, information, and intent. As the final veil of drowsiness falls over your brain, you try to sink back into it with your inner eye still open.

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Fatigued (18/10)

And you do. Smoke has settled along the ground, heavier than air. This is not how smoke should behave. You know this, but the smoke does not. Pillars no longer snake up the edges of your bleary unconsciousness, where unformed thoughts wiggle inside the walls like tiny worms. You feel different from before.

Looking down at your hands, you find them changed. Warped, spiraling coins no longer cluster in the air like motes of dust caught in one another’s gravity, forming the vague notion of claws. They have taken on a coherence, layered four-fingered golden talons. They clutch and grasp at the smoke in front of you, trying of their own accord to catch it.

Sticky bacterial strands wriggle in the shape of hands, multiplied and coiling around your neck like frilly shawls. You find yourself wondering what your face looks like. One of them reaches out and caresses it. You can’t tell what your face feels like. The ropey hand feels warm, and sticks to the surface.

There are trails here. You know them, but you know there is one that was hidden from you. At the edge of the city, you caught its scent. As you walked the city’s streets, you could smell it there. Suffusing that place. Trails of black smoke leeching up through the cobblestones, chimneys from a fire underfoot.

These things crawl from the walls. You can feel them wriggle between your toes, and you try to look down. It comes with a sweeping sensation of vertigo, and the whole scape curls down to look at itself with you.

There is no torso. Not that you can see. It folds up and away as the world bends. What you see are two more golden talons, dripping with a dark, viscous fluid. A foretalon strokes your chin and feels clinging moisture. It is saliva. You are salivating, so much that it drenches you. The realization comes with a sweetness, a sweetness with a bitter aftertaste that manifests inside of your mouth.

Your taloned feet are coiled with more strands of thin rope spoilage that slithers into the smoke underfoot like roots. White worms crawl up the tethers and onto your legs. You reach down and pluck the thoughts into your fingers, which squeeze them. The wriggle and grow mouths that speak directions to you. You remember where you found the trail. Its acrid flavor fresh in mind, you take a step and fall out of your walls.

Direction has no meaning. Wherever you look is forward, so you go forward, trusting the memory worm to know which forward is wanted.

So thin it is invisible, but you taste the smoke on your tongue. It mixes with your saliva, and tastes familiar. You once baked a dessert with your girlfriend. It is a dessert you no longer bake. The smell, the taste, remind you of her. They remind you of love that is a lie and of losing. You no longer bake this dessert, you avoid it. You avoid it to the point of forgetting, pushing it away until you cannot see it.

What dessert was it? It doesn’t matter.

It tastes acidly bitter like loss and forgetting. This smoke.

As sudden as a single step, the horizon warps to meet you. The pinks are washed out, swallowed and choked by a haze that curls and clings to the air here. It curls and clings like claws that cannot grab what they are grasping for and so that thing they grasp is air, intangible and unseen, and the smoke gasps and chokes. Your talons clench around the air.

The horizon that is pink is below you. Above you is the horizon that is a city, silhouettes of candlelit buildings hanging from the underside of the world where they are rooted to a cobblestone sky. Cracks open between the stones. Crooked chimneys from underfoot spew smoke from azure flames that flicker between the open cracks between the cobblestones. Every second the streets pulse, upwards, outwards, like arteries. The fire glows brighter for a moment, then dims. A burning heart is beating above the stone sky, somewhere outside of your memory worm’s reach. You will need to reach further to touch that place, and it is not a fire your claws can caress safely. This you know, because the smoke burns your throat.

At the back of the city is a palace. A backdrop. A keep. It is not the burning heart. It is wet. A castle of walls and locks, locks larger than you, climbing overtop one another until the tallest spires dip into the pink forever underneath, peak stabbing like a sharp blade.

Beneath the palace and the city yet above the bright abyss into which it stabs is a goblet. The goblet is silver, tarnished and royal and rotting, ringed like a moon in the morning sky below. The walls of the palace bleed. The locks weep. Dark fluid bubbles up, tears salivated by a terrible many-headed monster chained inside. They dribble down, running in waterfalls over invisible contours of smoke and into the goblet, which is full yet never overflows.

Something is drinking from it. You cannot see what, or who.

The goblet rests on a cushion of smoke that billows down from the chimneys. They form a pedestal, acrid storm clouds cradling the moon goblet like an infant sister.

Inside is the pool of black, glossy black that reflects like a television screen. Inside the goblet. Distance and size muddled as they are the goblet could be as large as your palm or as small as a football field, yet you can see your reflection silhouetted from here, tiny and distant with the backdrop of the undercity.

You think that you could see the parts of you that twist from view, in that reflection.

You wonder also what would happen if you turned away and just drifted, lost, in that colorful void beyond this space of blurry and bleak coherence. It is the only way you have to turn back. You do not remember the trail home, though you know you are not far. You are lost. You tremble, and your talons clutch at the air.

>Investigate the palace of walls and locks

>Investigate the burning heart

>Investigate the moon goblet

>Be lost

Chapter Text

Hovering in the midst of this dark reflection of the city, you feel deep apprehension. Everything here is alien, possessing layers of qualities that you struggle to fathom. Like a multi-cellular organism, this place breathes with clashing and colliding wants. Tides push and pull through the smoke, threatening to drag something like you into the undertow of something greater than you.

You are alone. Alone and small. You do not understand this place yet, and you do not feel strong enough to brave it alone. Though turning back onto the absence of a path is frightening, you opt for the lesser evil.

The moment you pull away from the city, it begins to shrink into the distance, curving away into the underside of a colorless pink globe.

In every direction, this void. Are you still moving? Does momentum exist here? You do not know from where you came or to where you might be drifting.

You are lost.

With nothing but yourself to cling to, you wrap yourself in your talons and clutch your body until it stings. You may never see them again. They will wake up and you will never wake up, or your body with no soul will wake up without you and carry on as if nothing is wrong. This is the fate you have chosen.

These thoughts swirl around you like ribbons, then tighten. They crush in from all sides, leaving you in something that is not pain but is alike to it. At your core, an agonizing emptiness, empty space on the inside. Hunger of the soul. Want. Paradoxically, strength fills your limbs. You need to touch something, grab something, feel something, so you dig your talons deeper for sensation and bleed out the hunger. Nothing outside. Only inside. So you dig inside.

Trails of it run down your arms, down your legs. You cannot see it but you feel it. Wetness. Black fluid hungry with want runs off of your footclaws and begins to pool on the nothing, as if it were flat ground.

>Murdoch Will: Fatigue, Dependent, Easily Lost, Fear of Loss 7 (16/0)

You want.

You want to see Gwen again. Spring. Darcie. Hustle. Victor. Percy. These feelings ooze from the veins of what you are and pool like blood on the ground. Then, like oil put to flame, the want ignites. What blossoms is not fire, but matter. Black chalky soil railed by stalks of tall, dark, thorny grass. Birthed into the void, it stretches before your feet.

Unclenching your talons, you set them down and crawl. Each powerful tug of your golden claws through the ground feels like it hurls the world behind you, and the path rapidly stretches out towards your destination, keeping pace. In just three strides you crash through the boundaries into something firm and solid and grounded.

You are in you again.

The worm you took crawls from your finger and slots itself back in with the folded noodles of your memories.

>You have gained the Lucid Dreaming skill

You turn, to look behind. The solid path that was born from your fluid want is crumbling and disappearing, slipping away like smoke and vapor. A sudden feeling of vertigo and weakness comes over you, and you fall to a knee inside of the thoughtcoils.

>Fear of Loss has lost 1 Potency

The wriggling surfaces of your interior caress your knee reassuringly.  “You did it. You are home,” they say. You feel weak, and comforted. A sensation of accomplishment swallows you up, and lucidity fades from the edges of your consciousness until-

Eyes blinking open, you stare out into the dimly lit grass. It’s early morning, the sun is barely peeking into the sky. A muscular red-furred leg is pinned underneath you, and a heavy black-furred mass is breathing to your left. You look to your left, and see Gwen’s sleeping face. You look to your right, and see Spring laying on her back with Hustle’s huge sack covering her eyes. At some point he rolled over in his sleep. Darcie is on top of her chest, tail pinned by the grasp of Spring’s other leg- the one not trapped underneath you.

>Murdoch is Fatigued

You didn’t sleep very well last night. Your head feels a little foggy, but it’s not the overwhelming exhaustion that hit you last time. A glob of plegm sticks inside your throat, and you try to quietly clear it without waking anyone. The blockage works its way up, until you spit it out onto the flattened grass.

It’s a thick, black mucous that seeps into the cracks of the grass lining. You feel a sense of uncanny alarm as it begins to coalesce and spread along a single grass stalk, coating it until the plant springs upwards with new strength. Covered in barbed thorns, it is the perfect image of those ink-dark plants that lined the imaginary path you made. You have the distinct feeling that this should not be here.

>Wake up the others to show them the plant

>Extricate yourself from the sleep pile and attempt to dispose of the plant somehow

>Extricate yourself from the sleep pile and start preparing the leftovers for breakfast

>Command it.

>Go back to sleep and sleep off this fog

Chapter Text

>Tiebreaker: Command it, Go back to sleep, Cook and eat the plant (1)

Panic and confusion flash through your mind, but an intrusive thought swirls to the forefront. In your dream, or whatever it was you experienced, you created these things. If it came from you, maybe you can command it.

>Murdoch Will: Lucid Dreaming, Fatigued (15/10)

Carefully drawing your arm up from where it’s wedged between the slumbering bodies, and reach up. “Come here,” you whisper softly, and picture the plant bending down in your mind’s eye. Breath catches in your throat when its bleak surface ripples like calm water in an evening breeze. The broad blade bends down, until it reaches your outstretched claw and coils around it.

Narrow thorns prod into the scaly base of your claw, irritating the flesh with their itchy touch. Instinctively, you pull away, and the grass’ grip tightens. The thorns dig in painfully, causing you to hiss.

>Gwen Intelligence: (14/10)

>Spring Intelligence: (15/10)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence, Heavy Sleeper (20, 19/10)

>Hustle Intelligence: Disadvantage (12, 2/10)

Right next to your snout, Gwen’s ear twitches. Her eyes flicker up, and you can feel her fur stand on end before she’s even finished processing what’s going on. Her ears flatten against her head. The immediate growl rising in her throat stirs Spring, who groans and reaches up to grab what’s on her face, taking a handful of Hustle’s sack. Flopping him off of her face, she sits up, which causes Darcie to mumble and begin to groggily stir. Nearly everyone in the pile begins to look around in the domino effect.

“H-hey, easy, let me go,” you try to order the plant again. The surface ripples, but it tenses like a muscle under an electric shock and reaches further instead, wrapping itself around your wrist. With more surface area to grip, the thorns rake against your scales and dig underneath them.

Spring blinks and rubs her eyes, then flips to her feet, accidentally knocking Darcie over in the process. The sleepy scorpion flails her limbs in the air and then rights herself with her tail. “What? Are we… under attack?” she mumbles.

“I don’t know. Is this a Grass Knot or something?” reaching out, Spring holds Gwen back from leaping forward to bite the plant. “Hold on,” she pulls her hand back when Gwen snaps at the air. “Don’t snap at me! It’s thorny, you’ll just get them stuck in your mouth like Huss if you bite it.” Upon realizing Spring’s intent and recalling the cactus incident, Gwen lowers her hackles.

“Hrn, sorry. Panicked.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just burn it away,” stepping around to approach the base of the plant, Spring begins gathering a flame in her mouth.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Analysis, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigued (1, 13/8)

A realization comes upon you, when you realize what feelings you tapped into when you generated these plants along the path. You were afraid of losing everyone, of being left alone. If that’s what’s in this plant, then…

It is afraid you will leave.

“Wait!” you hold up your other claw, and Spring pauses, holding an ember in her mouth like a gumball.

She slots it into her cheek and mumbles around it, “Wha?”

“W-wait, I don’t think it’s trying to hurt me, it’s just- uh, it’s just scared I’ll leave it,” you hastily explain. Spring closes her mouth and juts her lip forward, eyes narrowed in a baffled stare.

A paw rests next to your hindleg as you stand up. “It is bad,” Gwen says. “Feels wrong.” You feel what she’s feeling, too. It’s an involuntary, autonomic response, breaching into the uncanny valley. Your body is screaming at you to pull away, even as your thinking mind feels a growing pity for this thing you accidentally created.

>Murdoch Charm: Thief King’s Fingers, Dealmaking, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigued (13/6)

With your other claw, you reach out and carefully stroke up the blade of the plant, on the smooth broad side. The willful contact sends a chill up your spine, and you can feel your own frills stand on end. When you drag your claw in the other direction, the surface feels rougher, scraping against the bony surface of your claw. Like sharkskin. Grimacing, you try sending a little pulse through it with your magic fingers. The entire surface of the plant wobbles, quivers and then droops, and its grip on your claw slackens. “It’s uh, it’s okay. I’ll… find some way to bring you with us,” you try to reassure it. Slowly, but surely, it releases you and pulls away, standing up. You notice some traces of red on its thorny edges, drooling down the blade. Your forepaw feels wet.

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, you look down. Bright red blood trails from tiny cuts left by the thorns.

>Murdoch Will: Fatigued (8/12)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence, Groggy (10, 7/10)

The world washes past and you nearly faint, but Darcie’s tail curls around your torso and steadies you. “You okay? What’s that?” she asks, noticing the blood.

“I’m- I- I’m bleeding,” you stammer, looking around for something to cover it up. It’s not exactly a dire wound, you just aren’t used to seeing blood- least of all here. Spring and Darcie both look concerned, but not exactly perturbed. Gwen on the other hand has gone stock still, staring at the fluid with wide eyes. Her hair is raised again.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Analysis, Gwen Expert, Bleeding, Fatigued (15/10)

There’s definitely recognition in her reaction. Even feeling frightened and lightheaded, you find pieces falling suddenly into place in your head. The scars along her side, it’s one of the only time’s you’ve seen a lasting wound on someone here, something that actually healed like a normal injury. The other time was the Zangoose with the torn ear.

Gwen knew what bleeding was, when you first asked about it. And… the Omanyte priestess, she didn’t seem confused either when you were asking about it. Clearly there are ways for this to happen. You’ve stumbled upon one of them, here.

“We,” getting back into your head, you motion to Spring, “We uh, need to find something to- to wrap it up in. Then it should stop on its own, eventually.”

She swallows down the ember she’d been holding onto. “Sure, I’ll try and find something,” scratching her head, Spring sifts through the Guild’s bag. “Are you sure it’s okay to bring this thing with us?” Her question offends, and the stalk of blackened grass poises itself like a threatening snake prepared to strike.

“Let’s not talk like that,” you quickly say, trying to soothe it with your… thoughts? They probably don’t come through sincere, though. You’ve started to have your own doubts. When you reach out to hold onto Gwen’s furry neck ruff, you feel her flinch under the touch. “Let’s just stay calm.” You realize you’ve accidentally rubbed some of your blood into her fur, but it’s too late to undo now.

>Spring Intelligence: Survival (5/8)

“I can’t think of anything short of tearing up our bag,” Spring laments, pulling out one of the Orans from your supply. “What about Oran for breakfast?”

“Sure,” you take the juicy fruit from her and bite into it. Anxiously, you look down at your forepaw. The raw red scrapes close up before your eyes. “Whew,” you breathe out a sigh of relief. When you look up Gwen is looking you in the eyes firmly. Her tail twitches and she jerks her head towards the plant. It’s not hard to read her intent. She wants to get rid of it, but she doesn’t want to provoke it to attack again. The… thing is still poised like a guarded serpent.

Uncertainty roils in your stomach. This plant is dangerous, in a way nothing else you’ve encountered is. It can hurt people. Its existence alone could cause problems for you if the patrons learn about it. Yet, intentionally or not, you are responsible for bringing it into this world, or granting this piece of grass whatever awareness it now possesses. You’ve seen it react emotionally to stimuli. A brief and frightened existence followed by an abrupt end. It’s sad to think about.

Whatever its fate, the grave responsibility of the decision is your own.

>>What will become of the changed plant?

>Find a way to bring the plant with you

>Leave the plant behind

>Destroy the plant

After you determine its fate, the morning road awaits to Windmill Village. You will need to start thinking about what you intend to do there.

>>You will have timeslots for two actions during the day in Windmill Village. You will leave in the afternoon so you get home with time to prepare for your appointments. You expect Michael to arrive in the evening tomorrow.

>>Guild members can be brought along or sent to do tasks for you.

>Visit Larissa

>Visit Percy

>Check the village bulletin board for requests

>Find a tailor to inquire about accessories for the Guild

>Check out the docks

>Shop for flour for your baking plans, you could get more for cheaper here where it's made

Chapter Text

You want to react aggressively in turn, uproot this weed and burn it. Heat smolders up your tail and your breath is hot. But that lingering thread of pity holds your tongue in place, and you stare it down. With shrinking hesitation, you take a step forward.

“Murdoch,” Gwen growls behind you. It pains you to go against her advice, but you reach out and touch the plant again. It coils around your wrist, gripping you in fright. The thorns are an irritant, but not digging into your flesh right now. You try not to twitch or pull it away. With your other claw you reach up and resume stroking down its back.

Unlovable thing.

You’re not sure if the passing thought was yours’, or its’. “Darcie,” you ask, “If we brought it with us, how long could it survive out of the ground?”

“Ah, uh,” the hesitation in her voice betrays her own reluctance to engage with this course of thought. You can see her warily watching from beside Spring. “Some plants can go longer than others. Wild grass is hardy, if that is still what this is.”

Knowing it’s going to be a hard sell, you turn to look her in the eye. Nervous energy bubbles inside of you, facing down your Guild and arguing against them. “I… I feel like this is a- it’s a part of me. It came from a place of, a p-place of fear, of loss and abandonment. I can’t just abandon it.” There is another squeeze around your hand. Maybe it’s your imagination, but it feels thankful. Taking a deep breath, you ask with the most confident smile you can manage, “Can you help me dig it up safely, Darce? To bring it with us?”

>Murdoch Charm: Dependent, Fatigue (15/14)

An uneasy moment of silence passes, then Darcie slowly approaches, eying the weed coiled around your wrist. “Okay. I’ll trust you on this.”

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence, Gardening (20, 5/6)

Using her pincers and stingers with precision, Darcie carves out the dirt around the plant’s root structure, allowing you to ease it out of the ground. You don’t want to just carry it out in the open, and it would probably wreck the bag and everything inside with those thorns. Looking down at yourself, you uneasily begin to wind the length of the grass across your chest like a bandolier.

“Murdoch!” Gwen’s shout is half a whimper, and it causes the plant to twitch in your grasp.

“I’ll be okay, Gwen,” you say, hoping it’s true. “T-try to uh, try not to scare it.” With some coaxing, the end of the grass lets go of your wrist and finishes coiling around your torso. Grabbing your kilt, you bring it up and put it around your neck, to wear like a poncho. Your lower body is exposed now, but the loss-plant is concealed.

When it’s done, you breathe in. The rise of your chest brushes your skin against the thorns, causing itchy irritation. Consciously, you force down any thoughts about what would happen if it freaked out like this. This is terribly uncomfortable. You hope Larissa’s Guild still has Spring’s cooler. You could convert it into a temporary planter. Not that this clingy plant is going to take being left behind in a garden any better, you imagine.

“I guess we should g- get packed up for- for Windmill Village,” trying to seem casual, you turn to the others and raise your arms to show you’re fine. Gwen looks mortified, hair bristling and tail stiff like stone. Bending down, you tickle Hustle’s nose. He twitches, scrunches up his face, then sneezes himself out of sleep. Blinking awake, his pink eyes look up at you.

It takes Hustle two tries to roll back up to his feet. Shaking his ears back and forth, he tilts his head at your impromptu poncho. “Trying out a new style, Doc? I like it! You have cute haunches!” The simple-minded compliment humbly lifts your mood, and you pat him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, bud.”

Hands resting on her hips, sternly now without her usual sass, Spring questions you, “So we’re just going to pretend everything’s normal?”

“What’s not normal?” Hustle swishes his tail back and forth as he kicks dirt back into the unused fire pit. It’s the thought that counts.

“Murdoch wearing some alien plant,” she responds. You rub at your fins and raise your poncho to show Hustle, who bounds over and leans in to sniff at it. The roots, as prehensile as the blade, reach out and crawl over his snout, feeling at his fur.

“Cool! Smells smoky and weird, kinda like potion fumes you know? Kinda like home. Homey! I forget what the other word for that is, something about noses. Noses do have a pretty good memory huh? Nice to meet you alien plant guy,” reaching up, Hustle fiddles with the roots using his claws. Spring lets out a sigh and slumps her hands off of her hips.

“I… know it’s not normal,” you admit, scratching Hustle under the chin. You feel like… the thorns are a little less itchy. Just a little, maybe. Still sharp scraping against your scales, but like maybe the clinging barbs have retracted. “It’s alive, though. In a- ah, a way? I don’t think it deserves to die just for being… unsettling.”

Quick to correct you, Gwen snarls, “Dangerous.”

“It’s with me now, it’s done,” you say, with gentle finality.

>Gwen Intelligence: Bad Memories (16/12)

Gwen narrows her eyes, but she seems to accept that upsetting the plant while it’s wrapped around you would be more dangerous, and looks away first. Taking some experimentally confident steps forward, you take the lead back to the road. In spite of the hesitation and unease still lingering in the air, everyone eventually follows and catches up.

“I’d like to take Darcie to meet Percy. I think they’ll be, um, like they’ll hit it off pretty well,” you say to break the silence of the march with some planning. “He can do some really fun stuff. And I… I kind of want to hire him eventually, to work at our bakery. Since I’ll sometimes be out doing stuff with you guys,” you glance back at Gwen and Spring, “He could run things while I’m gone.”

Ears swiveling, Spring wonders, “Hire like hire or hire like recruit to the Guild?”

“I’m n-not sure yet,” you admit. “I like him and he- he does have some unique things to offer for the massage business too. But- slots are getting short, and I don’t know who else we might need to recruit to save them from th-the King.”

“That was my thought, yeah,” she responds. “It might be harder to convince him to uproot his life though, without all the excitement of being a future-famous Guild member.” Spring does have a point. But you’ll cross that bridge when you come around to it. “What should the rest of us do?”

“Hustle,” his ears perk up when his name is mentioned, and his tongue lolls out, dripping. “Do you maybe want to meet Larissa? She’s um, she’s kind of shy so be gentle with her, but she’s the Guildmaster of your, your friend Ester. So you can see he’s in good hands. And maybe if she’s feeling uh, up to it later, you could ask her if you two could come with me to the market to get some flour- after me and Darcie are… finished, with Percy. And I can c-catch up with Larissa along the way and, and talk about Spring’s cooler.”

Without hesitation he agrees, fluffy tail flapping back and forth in the wind, “Sounds like fun!”

That leaves Gwen and Spring. “Gwen, I know you don’t want to leave me unattended right now,” you lead into your plans, already sensing her unease. “But I’ll be okay. Darcie is with me, she’s smart, and she- she knows plants?” It’s a flimsy reassurance, but she’s listening, tense eyes locked on you. Even you’re not sure how much plant is in the plant anymore. “I’d like you and Spring to check out the job board, do some inquiring about d-dungeon work or, or even odd jobs. If there’s anything you two think you could, um, handle along the way, like in that sunflower dungeon, or that you could do while we’re here, we could use the funds. If not, maybe do some asking around about Guild uniforms or uh- uniform accessories?”

Spring reaches out and rubs the back of Gwen’s neck. “You and me, hey? Darcie will look out for Murdoch. We can trust her.”

>Murdoch Charm: Gwen Expert, Dependent, Fatigued, Itchy (7/14)

Gwen is having none of it. “I stay with Murdoch.”

Sighing, Spring shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll check the board anyways, ask around about a tailor. Maybe I can show one of the rookies the ropes while you’re heading home.”

“Thanks, Spring. And… it’s alright. Gwen. That’s fine. You know I’m always happy to have you around.”

It’s late morning when you arrive. Windmill Village is as quaint and peaceful as you remember it, going through the motions of tending to their produce and leading their simple small-town lives. You shudder to think how much worse it would have been for Larissa to end up somewhere like Tallspire, caught up in the city bustle. Maybe that’s why Mesprit chose to set her down here. You find yourself wondering just how much the other patrons plan and interfere for their own reasons, compared to Hoopa. Hustle and Spring break off from the rest of your Guild, going in the direction of Larissa’s base and the bulletin board which aren’t far apart.

The rest of you head over to the more structured market area and town square, where Percy’s bakery is. Gwen trots beside you, alert. Darcie trails a few paces behind, taking in the sights. “I know we just walked through a lot of… Grass,” she says the word awkwardly. “But, it really is green here.” Her garden had plenty of colors, green included, but now it’s everywhere instead of one little oasis in the midst of ranging sand and dirt. She stops to admire some flowers in a planter outside of a small shop’s window. There’s a sign hanging next to the door reading Unova Pie Delivery with an image of a pizza carven into the wood.

When you reach Percy’s door, his shop is open for the day. You push inside, jingling some small chimes above the door, and are immediately met with the heartmelting scent of baking bread. You can’t help but stop, close your eyes, and breathe it in.

“Ah, Murdoch!” Percy’s friendly, level voice breaches the nostalgic haze, and you step up to the counter. A Scyther you recognize from harvesting grain out in the fields last time you were here is sitting at one of two small, three-chaired tables in the venue, her abdomen poking out through the back of the chair. A book is carefully held open with her huge scythes while she reads.

From the packages already arranged on the counter and marked with names in charcoal, she’s not his only customer today, just the only one waiting in person. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

He is in the process of sliding a fresh loaf of bread into a bag, curling shut the top and closing it with a pair of wooden clips. “The next batch will be a bit, I have time for a chat. Maybe not time for more than that right now, but,” you sense fond eagerness in the way he looks at you. It feels nice to be looked at that way. A tightness eases around your shoulder. “If you’re going to be in town for long?”

“Things are picking up with the Guild stuff, but it’s definitely been on my mind,” you smile back at him. “You remember Gwen, she’s my partner. And this is Darcie, she’s a new member of the Guild.”

“He told me a lot about you,” Darcie reaches over the counter with her tail, and Percy coils a limb around the end, as they imitate a hand shake. “Oh,” her mandibles clack and chitter as she giggles involuntarily, and he smoothly withdraws, dragging over the surface of her shell. “That is… immediate. He was not kidding.”

“Too much?”

“No, no, that was nice actually,” she assures him in a flustered tone. “I like feeling things. I mean, through this thick shell.”

“I like the smell here,” cutting into the conversation like a well-meaning battering ram, Gwen takes a seat beside you. The bread smell seems to have done her frayed nerves good, too.

“I love the smell of fresh bread,” Percy concurs. “It’s nice to meet you more formally, Gwen.” She rumbles in her throat and nods her head. “And I’m happy to heard Murdoch is giving me such good reviews,” he adds, swerving his flexible neck towards Darcie.

It seems like it’s a busy morning for Percy’s bakery today.

>Baking bread takes time. He might be down to fool around in the kitchen while he waits if you offer to handle the cleanup.

>Offer to help with baking and deliveries so he can finish work faster, then get some alone time before he reopens for more orders. This will take longer and you might be late for meeting up with Hustle and Larissa.

>Suggest arranging a less rushed intimate meet-up sometime, here or in Stepstone. You’ll still be able to discuss Guild and resort matters while he works.

>Do you want to recruit Percy or offer an employee position at the resort?

Chapter Text

Chewing on your thoughts, you put together a plan to imply what you have in mind without giving away the game to the bookworm Scyther. “Actually,” you speak up, fiddling with your claws. “I mostly came here today to- I mean, it’s nice to see you! Again. But I came here mostly to introduce Darcie. She’s a gardener, and she’s very interested in how your… enzymes work.”

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Gardening (7, 9/8)

“I think I have a clear idea, but if you don’t mind explaining while you work,” it sounds like Darcie is picking up on your idea, her eyes flicking towards you behind their glossy lenses. “I could even come help out. Behind the counter.”

Percy’s flexible neck swivels between the two of you. “I do need to pop into the kitchen now and then to check on the orders.”

“I could help,” you quickly raise your hand to volunteer. “What are… friends for, r-right? I can just- is there a list of orders? If you’re busy, I can handle the kitchen while you wait out here, for the pickups.”

>Murdoch Charm: Baking, Dealmaking, Supported, Fatigue (8/6)

The Shuckle’s eye trails up and over you in a thoughtful arc. It reminds you of his thinking face when you first met. Percy’s long pause betrays nerves beneath his calm exterior, but he eventually admits, “It is a pain trying to get anything done while waiting for these orders to go out.” He reaches up and sets the latest clipped bag on the counter. By the tone of his voice, you can tell he’s exaggerating just how much of a bother it is. “How steady is your leg, Darcie?”

“I can write down orders,” crawling around behind the counter, you see her tail sticking up over the top. You spy a large leaf-quill resting in an inkwell on a back counter, past the two of them. Percy’s limbs could mold around and grip it to write, but Darcie brings it down to the floor to use her legs to create the footprint runes. 

“Great. Felsi’s bread rolls are in the ovens right now,” Percy instructs you. Clasping your claws, you nod your head. This is a chance to show your chops and impress him, maybe it’ll make him feel more comfortable about coming to work for you. “There’s an hourglass going on the shelf that will tell you when to take them out. After that, can you get the next order started? It’s on a list above the drawer, and inside you’ll find my recipe book.” The Shuckle regards Darcie. “I think she will have had her fill of counter duty by then.”

As you reach the threshold of the kitchen door, a swinging saloon-style entryway he can easily push aside while carrying product, you pause and look back at Gwen. “Um, can Gwen hang out with me in the kitchen?”

“Sure. Ah, as long as she doesn’t get any fur in the dough.”

Trotting behind you with her muscles still tense, Gwen eyes the edges of your poncho. She takes her eyes off of the grass only to address Percy with a nod and a definite, “Won’t.”

Gwen is close on your heel as you shoulder your way into the kitchen. The saloon door that swings behind you offers little auditory privacy between the two rooms, and you could easily peer out over or under the glorified wooden flap if you want to. Percy was really exaggerating.

Sure enough, the smell of fresh bread is traced to a dozen bread rolls in the two ovens, with one of three hourglasses on a nearby shelf turned over and running down. First thing before you touch anything, you waddle to Percy’s sink and use the pump to draw up some water, washing up your hands. There’s a bar of some homemade soap. Maybe not homemade by him, but, well- everything here will be homemade, you suppose. The trades are alive and well. You put it to use to rinse the ground-dirt and road grime from your foreclaws.

“I can break down and compress any kind of Berry,” you overhear Percy saying, and lean back to peek under the door. He and Darcie are positioned behind the counter, inkwell and paper on the floor next to her ready to write down the orders of anyone who comes in. His hind tendril between the spiny segments of her tail, oozing into the joints and causing her body to twitch and tense.

>Darcie Will: Advantage, Diligence (8, 2/8)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage (19, 3/10)

“Wo-ow,“ Darcie responds, with forced interest. Her voice shakes and shudders at first with held-back laughter, then she stoically sets her focus.  “That-” you sense a minute shift, the feigned interest in the cheap cover dialogue replaced with a real thought. “Mm, gottabe good for potions right?” the Skorupi points out.

You hadn’t thought about it before, but it’s true. Percy’s body and shell are able to naturally concentrate Berry extracts the way someone would normally need tools for.

“I only know a little about what those extracts do,” the Shuckle admits. “The heat of the baking process leeches a lot of the potency, so my Berry-flavored pastries have never caused anything strange to happen.” Another thing you note in mind. Any glaze or filling you want to have potion effects in your baking will need to be added after.

Wearing a broad smile as his volunteer struggles to contain herself, Percy raises a foretendril and drags it over the back of her neck. Darcie’s tail stiffens and sticks straight up, her mandibles clenched tightly together to kill whatever instinctive noise nearly erupts.

Tiny pinpricks flex around your midsection. Their touch, which had softened, begins to itch again.

Jealousy.

The ugly feeling curls at the edges of your gut. “I’ll get another chance to play with Percy,” you whisper under our breath to the thorny grass. Your claw reaches up reflexively to feel at it under your poncho, but you hold back. Your poncho is anything but clean, and you don’t want to dirty your claws again. “Don’t get upset at Darcie…”

Of him.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue, Itchy (15, 11/12)

You look down at your claws. “But…” you’re able to do much the same. You shouldn’t be jealous of him for his enzymes. No, the jealousy is not your own. It belongs to the grass. It is undeniable there is still a connection, but this entity is also separate from you now. Your touch is not its touch. And its feelings are not your feelings. Not all of them. Each moment that paces, that rift will broaden, expand.

There is as much fright in the revelation as there is curiosity, and you feel the grass tighten- angle its thorns away. Very intently away, to avoid pricking you, but still it tightens.

“You are talking to it,” voice equally low so as not to be overheard by the festivities out front, Gwen sits behind you. You can feel her breath along the side of your face.

“Yes.”

“Does it talk back?”

“… Ssort of?”

Though you don’t look back at her, eyes still on your clasped claws, you can sense her teeth bared. “I do not like it. I do not like it to talk to you. It…” Enemy. “It is my enemy,” the word echoes inside of your heartstrings as they both say it at once. “I know this. It should not be here,” Gwen insists. When you finally do work up the courage to look her in the eye, she’s squeezed her eyes shut. “Have not felt enemy feeling… so strong.” Gwen scrunches up her face. “Feel like, priority target.”

Remaining still for several breaths, only two of which you forget to suck in, you look habitually at the hourglass. At the buns. Still time. “I think we should talk about your past, Gwen,” you say, with a tugging in your gut. You, not the plant. Nervousness. You take a step closer, voice soft. “Those scars. It’s- that’s not normal, is it? To have- have scars?”

Gwen’s jaw hangs open. It is difficult for her to find the words, sometimes, so you wait patiently. “Hatch in dungeon. In secret base. Like bandit room.” Her ears pull back and she narrows her eyes. “Walls are long squares. Rectangles. Stone.”

“Bricks?” She stops and considers your suggestion, then nods her head.

“Others there. Feel instinct, bite and attack. So I did. Thing hit back, and I was wet. All over my side,” she looks back at herself, at the scar on her flank. It’s long, and large. You shudder to imagine how large it must have been, on a freshly hatched Poochyena. “Hoopa saved me. Stopped the red wetness.”

“Thing,” you repeat her statement, “Do you remember what it was? Was it like the grass, is th-that why it freaks you out, s-so bad?”

Gwen shakes her head from side to side. “No. Not like it. One thing was white and red, the other orange. All I remember is colors.” She sees confusion in your face, and admits, “I do not know why grass makes me feel like this. The red, the blood, it scared me to see you bleed. But this is different. Instinct. Wants me to bite and attack.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Supported, Fatigue, Itchy (2, 14/10)

Even while processing the new information, the corner of your eye holds vigil over the hourglass. When you spy it finally run down to nothing. You start to search for a set of pan holders, then remember what you are. Pulling down the oven door, you bask in the warm aroma of fresh baked bread that surges out, unfiltered, and in the shroud of heat that surrounds you. With bare claws, you move the tray from inside onto one of the counters. The hot metal isn’t what you’d call pleasant. Even your new body has limits. But it’s well within those limits. You could probably carry it around without a problem, once you let yourself get used to it. Must make Enzo’s job a lot easier than any human blacksmith.

“I’ll be right back Gwen, just going to grab a bag,” you tell her, “We can talk more once the next batch is in.” She nods, waiting in a seated position for your return.

>Darcie Will: Advantage, Diligence (4, 2/8)

When you swing through the door, you see Darcie with her forehead pressed against the ground, biting down on both of her forestingers. Percy’s back tendrils are both at work now, one of them caressing her tail and the other slithering underneath it. You can hear a faint, steady droning start to hit the air. You realize it’s Darcie releasing a persistent whine. Her hind legs are trembling.

“What’s that sound?” the Scyther looks up from her book.

“Um, must be the tea I put on back there,” you quickly excuse the sound. Percy smiles in your direction and withdraws his touch from Darcie. She slumps down and struggles to catch her breath. “I’ll grab it real quick, your b-buns are ready to bag,” you flash Felsi a smile and grab one of the brown paper bags- Percy holds it out for you, then scamper back into the kitchen.

There’s a rush from being caught up in the moment of nearly being caught, vicariously. You slow down before you fumble something and carefully pile each of the rolls into the bag. When it’s stuffed, you fold over the top and grab it in both arms. Percy dextrously slides a wooden clip onto the top as you pass him, on the way out to Felsi’s table. “One set of a dozen bread rolls,” you report.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Fatigue, Itchy, Exhibitionism (8, 10/8)

You’ve even managed not to accidentally sport an erection, in your precariously bottomless state. A perfect model of professionalism.

“Great, thanks!” her blades move with the precision of a set of chopsticks in experienced hands, sliding a yellow ribbon in between the pages of her book and maneuvering it into a brown pouch belted to her abdomen. “You’re new around here,” she points out, wrapping the flats of her blades around the bag. “No wait, you’re one of the new Guild leaders right? I didn’t know you bake!”

“W-well, I do!” you swing your forelimbs up, and let them flop back against your hips. “I uh,” you weigh whether to advertise your plans. But you decide not to get ahead of yourself, it would be rude to advertise for competition if Percy decides not to come work for you. Or it could put undue pressure on him with the decision. “Percy and I get along great,” you awkwardly correct what you’d been about to say.

“Well if you’re looking for flour this is the time to get it. We just had a great harvest!” the big bug twirls around and tromps out of the door. “Thanks Perce, see you later!”

“Bye Felsi,” the Shuckle calls after her.

You step past him towards the kitchen, then stop as a realization crosses your mind. “Did she uh- shoot, did she forget to pay? Did I forget to- to charge?”

“Hm?” Percy looks over at you. “Oh, no. She paid up front. You’re fine.”

“Right,” you sigh and step back through.

“Are you doing okay?” you hear him say to Darcie, behind you. “I can ease up, if-”

“No,” Darcie cuts him off. She takes a deep breath and starts again, “Nope, I’m good. Actually, go at me harder. Only stop if somebody else comes in,” her breathy voice insists. A sucking in of air is cut short by a chittering, clacking of mandibles together, and a rapid tittering laughter as Percy makes good on her request. You take a peep under the door and see her on her back, on the floor. Percy is mercilessly coiling and molding his foretendrils over her underside, now, while she spasms and lashes the floor with her tail. “F-f- aaafuck,” she hisses. “Can we- nsscan we go up- hold, hold on!”

Percy pulls back to let her talk. It takes her a moment to compose herself.

>Darcie has gained a Tickling (Receiving) Fetish.

“Can we… can we go upstairs after this, and… finish things properly? I… I assume you would rather not we actually f-fuck behind your counter,” she gasps out. “Uh,” she notices you looking under the door, and you sheepishly smile at her, waving your claw. “I mm-mean, you were going to do something that doesn’t really need me right? … Boss?” Darcie uses the word uncertainly, you never really established any formal titles.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue, Itchy (12, 11/14)

“You two kids have fun,” you tell her, giving a thumbs up with your claw before turning back to work. You briefly hear them talking more in the background, and it sounds like Darcie will be staying here while you go shopping. The giggle fits resume shortly.

A note on the counter informs you that the next order is for a half dozen lemon tarts. Tugging open the drawer, you find a notebook containing handwritten recipes in footprint script. Brief flip-scanning locates the correct recipe. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be looking through your recipes?” you ask through the door.

Percy has no trouble replying, dumbstruck as his willing victim might be. “I don’t mind sharing. If you feel bad about it just share some recipes with me after.”

“Kay,” taking the book with you, you gather up ingredients from around the kitchen.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Fatigue, Itchy (5, 12/12)

You’re unfamiliar with his layout, but you manage to find everything without asking. The set of clearly Pokemon-laid eggs in his cooler makes you wonder who he gets them from.

You rewash your hands while the idle thoughts play out.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Fatigue, Itchy (5, 15/12)

Some species produce unfertilized eggs more often than others. An unfertilized egg from a Pokemon only happens when an otherwise viable conception fails, or in species with heat or estrus cycles who fail to find a counterpart. In Johto, the most common came from Mareep, in addition to their wool. They are a particularly fecund species, so contraceptives would be used to prevent the flocks from exploding and becoming overpopulated. That resulted in a lot of unfertilized eggs being laid.

The size of the egg relative to the portion size means you only need one. It cracks easily into a bowl. While you work on extracting part of the yolk for a separate part of the recipe, you resume where you left off with Gwen. “That feeling you had- have,” you tell her, “It feels it too. About you.” Jaws contorting into a scowl, you sternly mutter at the grass, “You’d better not hurt her. Or I’m going to... burn you.”

No.

The feeling is immediate, and dismayed. Despite the conflict of its instinctive opposition- fear? Fear, of her? There’s something else, clearer and more definite in the entity’s response.

Not her. You cannot lose her.

Right. It’s part of the part of you that doesn’t want to lose people. Lose her. Or it doesn’t want you to lose her. It’s difficult to tell whether it fully understands that it’s a separate thing from you, now. You let out a breath through your nose. “Good.” When you look back at Gwen while whisking some ingredients together, you see her eyeing you warily. “It doesn’t want to hurt you, but it d-does- it does feel it, too. That- th-the instinctive opposition, you said. The enemy feeling. I-” a sudden burst of laughter from up front cuts you off, and you forget what you were in the middle of saying.

“I do not know what I am,” she says it, Gwen says it first, and you swallow down a deep pit at remembering what you were trying to figure out how to broach in asking what are you. These instinctive feelings aren’t normal, you assume. So she must be… different. “Am not empty. Hoopa says mother was, but that I am not.” Walking next to you, Gwen lays her head down over one of your feet. You awkwardly try to lean around without disrupting her as you work.

Silence lingers. Gwen doesn’t have more to say, or else doesn’t know how to say it. The laughing eventually stops, replaced with faint background conversation. You sigh.

A few more minutes, and you slide the tarts into the oven, turning over the hourglass. The recipe marks the green one. Reaching down, you dig deep, scratching Gwen’s chin and neck. “I already guessed some of this, Gwen. It doesn’t change anything, j-just, I want to know more so I know if you’re- that you’re safe. That whatever danger hurt you won’t come back,” you run a claw softly down the length of her scar. “… And figure out what this grass really is.” Part of you was hoping she had some answers. But no. And the grass doesn’t feel like it knows what it is, either. You detect no response from it to the query.

Gwen sits up and licks across your face. You reach out to pull her in close, then hesitate and stop. The plant has its spines out to keep from pricking you. She might get poked through the kilt. Instead, you lean in to kiss her, across an arch of air between your torsos.

When you break it, you take a deep breath. “Let’s go see how the love bugs are doing, huh?” She nods her head, following you out. She usually takes the lead, but ever since this grass coiled around you she prefers to keep you in sight.

Darcie and Percy have left the floor where she had been splayed out, and taken a seat at the table Felsi was just at. “Needed a break?”

Face resting on the edge of the table, Darcie looks slack. “I don’t want to burn out before the main event,” she answers. You pull out one of the chairs. Gwen hops on, and you slide in next to her.

“I’ll leave you two to it soon, just, I wanted to talk to Percy,” you open your mouth again, then hesitate, then start over. “Percy, I’m starting a Guild business in Stepstone soon. It’ll be, to start, a bakery and massage service and some places to stay, j-just simple stuff. But I want it to be bigger, eventually. A- a resort! That’s, um, a fancy kind of inn sort of place humans build. To get away from stress and, uh, to destress.”

Swiveling his head to the side in a floppy lean, Percy listens.

“I’m not ready to get started yet. But once I get going, I was wondering if I could uh, could hire you on? As am employee, rather than a Guild member. I mean I’d like to have you around, like, as a teammate, but it’s- I’m running out of spots from uh,” you start to say you’ve been too impetuous, but that might hurt Darcie’s feelings, like she’s a mistake you regret or something. “There’s just… so much I want to do. Anyways, I know it’s a big decision and I don’t need an- an answer, right now,” you quickly hold up your claws before Percy can answer, as he opens his mouth. “Why don’t you come visit, once we get set up? You can see me again, and Darcie again, and we could have some fun and talk business, like w-what would be a competitive pay offer, and… stuff.”

>Murdoch Charm: Dealmaking, Supported, Likes You, Likes Darcie, Big Ask, Fatigue, Itchy (7/8)

Two tendrils coil under Percy’s neck. It’s a token effort, as the flexible noodle holds its own weight perfectly well. “It is a lot. I don’t want to close down, so I’d need somebody to run the place while I’m gone,” he thinks aloud. You see him fighting with himself, on the edge of giving an answer now, one way or another. You’re not sure which. “I need time to think. Meeting up later sounds good. You can start by bribing me with some good baking,” he suggests playfully.

“Of- yes, of course,” you nod your head. There’s a bit of disappointment. You were hoping he would say yes, right away. Even though it is a big ask. Shifting uncomfortably, the grass leaves an insistent itch along your scaled chest that you scratch at through your poncho.

“I like the two of you,” Percy starts again. He looks between you and Darcie. “I said before, but not many can handle me. It means a lot that you came back, and even brought someone who’s so into what I do. This isn’t no, it’s just time to think, plan, see what I can arrange here if I say yes.” It feels a little better knowing he’s thinking about how to make it happen. That means he wants to make it happen.

“The villages aren’t too far. I’m sure we can talk, figure out a time, I mean we- right, we do have a mailbird too,” you comment hopefully.

“So, um, do you need someone to watch these while you and Darcie go…” with a claw, you indicate the bags on the counter.

Percy’s folded limbs flop against one another in a wave as he shrugs. “This is a small village. We all know each other. The orders don’t need to be puppy guarded, so don’t let us keep you.”

Darcie taps the tabletop. “I’ll catch up at the road out of town.”

You look at Gwen and rub her head between the ears. She’s been quiet, at the table. “Alright. Let’s go see how Hustle got in with Larissa!” She huffs and hops down from the chair beside you.

“Goodbye, Percy. Darcie,” Gwen exchanges with a set of waves they offer on your way out.

With a jingle of chimes, the door closes behind you. It’s you and Gwen, relatively alone on the village streets. If you have anything else to say or ask, you can talk with her one on one while you walk.

Chapter Text

One lingering question chews at you amidst your racing thoughts. It is quashed down by desperate attempts to think of something to say that would help, that would make Gwen feel better. Nothing emerges to answer this demand. Sucking a breath in, you let it out through your nose. It’s not far to the market.

“Gwen, when you say priority target,” you repeat her phrasing, “That’s… that’s not really how you normally talk. Is it different somehow- from normal, combat feelings?”

“Yes,” Gwen’s answer is immediate. You’re hoping for a little more description, and peer at her over your shoulder. Licking her snout, Gwen looks at the ground in frustrated thought. “They are from the same… place, in me. But different. Different meaning.”

“Is there any physical sensation, to go along with this- this place, in you?”

Flicking one of her ears, Gwen stops to scratch behind it. She bounds back to your heel soon after. “Tense.”

“Like your muscles?”

“Mm,” she nods. “Tense. For springing, pouncing.” Not too different from what you’d expect out of a threat response.

“Have you ever felt that way about anything else? Like the, um- t-the thing that scarred you?” Bringing the painful memory up again and watching it scrunch up her face makes you feel bad. Guilty.

“Not this. My normal instinct, to fight and bite. To…” again, she looks for a different, better way to say what she wants, eyes searching for some clue in the environment that might squeeze it out of her mind. But she doesn’t find it. “Feel always.” Always? “Learned to ignore it, for most of time.”

“Always, always?” as she’s about to answer, your mind swerves ahead faster and you ask again, “Do you feel it around o-” catching yourself, you swallow down something better left unsaid. “Around Empties?”

Gwen shakes her head. “Always else, I feel it.” Not towards them. And if this is the same passive ‘instinct’ that makes them target anyone delving into a dungeon, that means she doesn’t set it off in them either. She describes it as instinct, but it sounds more like a compulsion or a command. From who? There’s someone in charge of them, one of the Legends, it must be.

Letting this information settle, you slow down enough to reach over and wrap an arm around her. Grabbing under her chin, you stroke your claws up and down, and she leans into the touch. “Like a… sore spot. Like old Pokemon say, does not go away. You learn to live with it.” Where her fur brushes against your poncho, and the thing underneath, you feel an uncomfortable shiver run down her back. “Easier to ignore normal feeling when feeling good things. Hard to ignore this one.”

A ripple of bitter self-loathing writhes along the surface of your chest where the grass touches. Thorns prick at your scales, forced to turn inwards or prick Gwen instead through the material. You reluctantly release Gwen from your embrace, and begin to feel the same resentment towards this damn weed.

Wretch. Unlovable thing.

>Hustle Charm: Advantage, Stupid, Curious (10, 5/14)

>Larissa Will: Disadvantage, No Touch, Social Anxiety, Hustle Failure (11, 19/18)

The roiling feedback of negativity is broken up by a hefty shape bounding up to you and suddenly setting paws on your shoulders. A long, sloppy tongue drags up your face, several times. “Hey doc! I was waiting! Hi Gwen!” dropping off of you, Hustle stuffs his snout into the side of her neck and gives her a long set of hello ‘goon kisses. She squeezes one eye shut as his tongue drags up just under it.

“Hello, Hustle,” she tolerates the excessively affectionate greeting.

Hustle pulls back and sits down on his haunches. He leans closer and lifts your poncho with one of his forepaws. “Hi plant!” his other paw waves at it, sending a conflicted wriggle through the loop of unnatural flora. Discomfort. Confusion. Embarrassment. Elation. Letting go of the flap of fabric, Hustle looks at you expectantly for whatever comes next.

Swiping away some of the wetness, you take a better look at where you are. The village market. The businesses with established buildings were all around the center, near Percy’s bakery. This place is less formal, less permanent. A place where anyone can come put up a stall and sell their produce, their baubles and homecrafts. No sign of Larissa anywhere. Dealing with Hustle’s overloading presence must have worn her out. “So. Hh..ow did it go with Larissa?” you ask, expecting it to have gone poorly.

“She was really stiff. Great posture! I said thanks for taking care of my pal Ester, and then she said something quiet I think it was a your welcome probably. So I gave her a big kiss,” reaching out with his thick, stubby paws, he indicates the exact size. “Then her Bibarel friend said it was time to go and carried me to the door and let me out.” That’s about as well as you were worried it might go. Realization lights up in Hustle’s eyes, and his head swivels around. “Where’s Darce at?”

“She’s hanging out with our f-friend, Percy. Maybe you’ll meet him too, someday,” patting Hustle on the shoulder, you lead him to walk with you and Gwen through the market road.

When you reach your objective, a stall stacked with pallets of grain sacks in varying sizes, you find a familiar face. Felsi, the Scyther from Percy’s shop, is sitting on a wooden stool. The bags containing her book and bread rest next to her leg. One of the fresh rolls is speared onto a blade, used as utensil to bring it up to her jaws for each bite. Another bug is seated on her knee, a butterfly with giant, sky-blue wings in a pixelated pattern. A Vivillion. He clutches to a second roll, taking much smaller nibbles. His back is supported by the flat of Felsi’s other blade. They sit shaded by a blue cloth canopy, just a shade or two darker than his wings.

“Hello again!” your approach to the stall is met with a tiny wave using the bun-impaling blade, before she takes another nibble.

“Hi!” despite not knowing who this is, Hustle quickly returns the gesture. You follow suit, and Gwen gives her a polite nod.

Swallowing down a chunk of bread, the Vivillion flexes his vibrant wings in a quiver. The swallow was a little too much, and he forces it down with extra effort. “Friends, sweetpea?” he asks without even a pause to gasp for air, in a smoother voice than you were expecting. There’s a pleasant, musical hum that underlines his words.

“Friends of Percy’s I think. I saw them when I was picking up today’s rolls.”

“Welcome, then! Are you a baker as well?” fluttering from his seat, the Vivillion swings around and sets his roll on Felsi’s abdomen, then lands on a small perch above the sacks.

“I am! Yes, I am,” reaching out with a claw, you smile playfully when his tiny limb contacts your finger. “Murdoch. A p-pleasure to meet you.” The traditional jolt of pleasure hits him, and his wings flap swiftly, producing a small gust of wind that your own fins flap in.

“Ah,” this time you do steal a gasp out of him. After staring into space and rubbing his leg against his chest, he nods his head. “Right! What are you looking for? I mean, I’m Cav, nice to meet you too,” the flustered fly adjusts himself and settles down. “This is my wife, Felsi.” Her fierce face betrays no expression but an eternal glare, but her friendly attitude makes you think she’d be smiling if she could, when you glance over. “We have wheat, barley, and oats with small, medium or large bags depending on how much you need. We’ve got both milled and unmilled, whatever suits your needs.”

You take a look at the prices, listed on a handmade sign pinned in the ground. The prices are uniform, with 1 Poke for a small sack, 2 for medium, or 3 for large.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Fatigue, Itchy (6, 18/12)

Reaching out to touch one of the bags, you find it cool to the touch. They’ve been kept somewhere cold, to sustain their shelf life. An Ice type’s help? You haven’t seen many of those, besides Roman’s Sneasel musician in the desert.

Given the differences in size, you definitely get a little more for your money in the larger sizes, but you lack a good way to carry them. A small size would be enough for one or two baking projects depending on what you want to make, medium would supply you for five to ten, and the largest size is a bag bigger than you are. It would be a pain in the butt to transport, but you’d have more than enough for a long time.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue, Itchy (17, 6/14)

Spring’s cooler has small wheels for rolling it. It’ll be rough to manage a heavy load on the rough trails in the Steps region, but if you pick it up you’ll have somewhere to store the materials and maybe the darn, itchy grass. Thoughts of wanting to remove it from your torso do nothing to help its prickly prongs, which feel like they’re slowly growing their barbs back.

“You m-must grow a lot,” you make idle conversation while you think over what you want.

Cav nods his head, and flexes his wings proudly. “My wife is a crop cutting monster.” You hear a chittering giggle from her. “But it’s more than just us. Acantha helps everyone’s crops stay healthy and grow faster, and Foxfall’s storage keeps it all fresh as long as possible. It’s a community effort.”

>How much of which types of grain do you want?

>Try to set up a supply deal for the resort bakery?

>>Gossip?

>You have time to ask about one of the Mesprit Guild members or Windmill villagers while you shop.

>Or you could ask about something else (suggest what).

>You could try flirting with the bug couple, maybe you can slut your way into a good deal?

Chapter Text

Looking through the sacks of grains, you tap your snout with a claw thoughtfully. You didn’t see a mill in Stepstone village, not like the big ones. Residents might have hand mills they use. Darcie might even be able to help you make one.

While you consider your baking plans, you try to makes some inquiries. Some gossip. You’re not sure on a topic, so you decide to ask about the docks. You never did make it down there to take a look at them. “So um, I’m new and all- are, are the docks important? Do they like- is there another continent overseas, with towns and stuff to trade with?”

“I don’t think there’s anywhere you can only get to overseas,” Cav’s wings fan the air for a moment, sending a cool breeze past your frills. “No towns anyhow. There’s trade, though. A boat’s faster than a road, usually, when you need to go far. Dungeons, too.”

You nod your head. “D-dangerous ones, I hear.”

“Some of the toughest, but there’s legendary treasure down there,” this time Felsi pipes in, her wings buzzing more rapidly than her husband’s in her excitement. “Captain Kirk makes it his job to take Guilds out to challenge them. It’s kind of a big deal when somebody makes the attempt. I mean, a little village like this, it’ll be the talk of the town right away,” she giggles, with glimmering, starry eyes. “I always wanted to see what they’re like…”

“But she can never work up the courage to actually ask a Guild to take her,” Cav finishes for her. Felsi prods him gently in the back with the back of a blade, knocking him off his perch. He easily course corrects and hovers to a new one.

“Kirk used to lead Uxie’s Guild,” Felsi carries on. “He was one of the best leaders to come out of Windmill- actually probably the best, ever!”

“You’re going to make me jealous, dear.”

“Oh hush now Cav, I’ll make it up to you later!”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Fatigue, Itchy (14, 11/12)

Oats are more difficult to hand-mill, because they are an oily grain. The oil can gum up mechanisms. The good news is that you don’t really need to mill oats into a fine flour to work with them. Oatmeal is a staple food for a reason.

You want to experiment a little, but you’re not sure how much you can carry. Weighing it in your head, you opt for a medium bag of milled flour, a medium bag of unmilled wheat, and a small bag of oats. The two medium bags can go in the cooler, and the bag of oats could be draped across Hustle or Gwen’s back like saddlebags… maybe Gwen. Yeah, Gwen. You’re not sure Hustle has enough hustle for that.

“I’ll buy mm… yeah, one medium milled wheat, one medium unmilled, and a small bag of oats, a-and,” you hold up a digit, “Can I come pick them up later? Just gotta get a- a thing to put them in, to carry.”

“Sure. It shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll hold ‘em for you until end of day,” Cav agrees.

Licking at your snout, you ponder the benefits of a longer term deal. It’s a little early to get ahead of yourself and agree to anything, but… if you mention it now, you can get him thinking about it. “You know, ah, actually. I was actually planning to start a bakery sort of thing of my own, m-more than that but also a bakery. Um, not here. In Stepstone Village.”

“Oh yeah?” the butterfly’s antennae swivel around. “You’re shopping for supplies, then?”

“Yup. This place is close, so it’d be the best… the roads are kind of uh, non-existent though.”

“The wilds between us and Stepstone could definitely use some infrastructure!” Felsi agrees cheerily. She looks up and away, abdomen swaying behind her. The bun balanced atop remains steady in place. “If only a Guild would take the initiative, I bet that would open up a lot of trade.” She’s not the most subtle in her suggestions.

“She keeps saying she wishes we could visit the hot springs again,” her husband helpfully clarifies her ulterior motives.

“Oh, y-you two are going to love my new project then,” your frills perk up. “I’m making a resort- a place for relaxation, to be pampered and stuff like that. And a bakery.”

“Nothing is more relaxing than the smell of fresh baked bread,” the Scyther voices agreement.

CaI tilts his head and gives her a look. “Nothing?”

“I said relaxing, love,” she teases him back. Suddenly she raises a scythe into the air. “I’ll tell you what. If you can make a road happen between Stepstone and Windmill, you’ll have my vote for us to supply you a free medium bag a week until the end of the competition.” Cav playfully bats her with a wing as she takes charge, but he doesn’t object.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say, agreeably but not contractually. “G-going to need to uh, look into the road thing. Now, we should go get that container.”

Exchanging a friendly wave with the bug couple, you trot down the road towards Mesprit’s Guild. Larissa might be thoroughly out of batteries after dealing with Hustle, but hopefully it’ll just be a quick in and out. As it so happens, you run into Spring on the way. She’s walking in your direction already, and waves once she sees you. “Hey. I found a job that might get us a nice profit, but it’s not a sure thing.”

“Oh?” you ask, passively urging her for more. She falls in beside you and Gwen, running a hand down the Poochyena’s back. You catch a subtle rise in the corners of her mouth.

“There’s a Cottonee here in the village that wants to evolve. There’s a nice reward on offer for a Sun Stone, 300 Poke and a free accessory. Turns out he’s also the tailor,” she stretches her neck, and looks at you out of the side of her eye. “We could probably swing that into the uniforms you wanted, with a little haggling. Anyways,” she waves her other hand. “You can find Sun Stone sometimes out in the Great Sunshine Field. The dungeon with all those sunflowers. It ain’t a guarantee, but I could take someone and try to fish one out after we leave here, then we’d meet back up with you at home.”

It's something to think about. “Give me a bit to figure it out.” She shrugs.

“I’m down for it, but up to you, fearless leader.”

The Guild hall has undergone a transformation, since you were here last. Or rather, is undergoing one. You smell varnish. Outside, a Bibarel is chewing logs into wooden supports for two new add-ons to the structure, then painting them with finish to protect them from the elements. The original walls have been taken apart mostly intact- preserving the colorful, painted patterns that some previous Guild decorated them with. As a result, two holes lead directly into the building, covered up by weather tarps.

“Oh no,” when she sees your group approaching, the Bibarel holds up one of her forepaws, then points it at Hustle. “No. You!” Hustle stops in place, his head jerking to face her and then cocking to the side. “He’s gotta stay outside. Larissa’s shut herself up in her room ‘cause of you.” Her flat tail slaps the ground behind her, jostling the nearby boards with a clonking sound of wood on wood contact. There being private rooms is also new. You aren’t surprised, though. Communal living would be anathema to the girl.

“Sorry lady, I didn’t mean to,” there’s a long gap as Hustle tries to understand what he did. “Do that.”

The Bibarel rests her forepaws on her huge thighs. “You don’t even know what’s going on, do you?” she asks, and Hustle blinks. Shaking her head, she slaps her brow with a sigh. “I been trying to ease her into interacting with folks, even got her to take my hand without freezing up, but here you go licking her all over like a damn snowcone. No wonder she’s gone and melted like one.”

Reaching over, you shake Hustle’s shoulder with a claw. His torso wobbles from the motion carrying through. “She’s really shy, remember? She doesn’t like being touched.”

“Oh! Oh no! I did a lot of touching!” his ears perk up and his eyes go wide. “Oh shoot, you warned me about this or something didn’t you? Totally slipped my mind. I need to go apologize, doc!”

“Nope,” the Bibarel steps in his way before he can barrel into the building. “You come back another time if you want to patch things up. She’s not ready for it right now.” Then, she turns to you, and you feel yourself being sized up. “You’re Murdoch, right? The Hoopa guy.”

“That’s right,” you nod along. “Can… I talk to Larissa? I need to just, check in with something and- we’re going to need Spring’s cooler, I think. To transport some stuff back home.” Raising an arm lazily, Spring waves her fingers at the Bibarel.

The big beaver chews at her lower lip. “Fine. I guess you can take it. If it’s Spring’s, we can’t really just go and claim it’s ours’. Far as talking to Larissa goes, you’re free to try. But if she doesn’t answer her door, don’t be too surprised.” She lifts up her chin. “I’m Nicole. I do the Guild’s carpentry.” When she reaches out her paw to shake your hand, you give her the old treatment. A shiver runs through her, but she doesn’t reflexively pull away like the others, just quirks a brow at you. “Michael wasn’t kidding, you do do that to everyone.” She takes a seat on one of the wood piles.

>Nicole Lewd: Disadvantage, Take-Charge, Quickshot (4, 11/10)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking, Fatigue, Itchy (14, 17/12)

She’s trying to keep a straight face and endure through the sustained touch. A matter of pride, maybe. But there’s a quiver in her thick base as you keep a grip on her paw, and when she sits down it’s to hide the spasming moisture from the cleft between her loins. From the way she’s breathing, you think she came from the shock of the erogenous touch. She’s got as much of a hair trigger as you do.

Finally, you give her mercy and let go of her paw first. “Okay. Maybe I’ll just… where should I put whatever’s inside now?” you look over at Spring.

“Half the Berries in there are the Guild’s, I don’t even remember whose is whose,” the monkey shrugs again. “I’m grabbing my drink bottles though.”

“Oh, just put whatever’s ours’ on the cupboards. I’ll,” Nicole is about to say she’ll come do something about it, but she can’t get up without revealing the puddle she’s now sitting in. “Foxfall can help us with a new cooler. I’ll go talk to ‘im after I finish… this,” she motions at the half-finished board. Just waiting to be varnished.

>Take the cooler and go?

>Stop and try to talk to Larissa first? (You might be late to leave, short-changing yourself on sleep to prepare for Michael’s arrival)

>Send Spring and someone else to explore the sunflower dungeon in search of a Sun Stone on the way home?

>>When you go, should you take any of what’s still in the cooler with you?

>Take just Spring’s bottles and her corkscrew, let Larissa’s Guild keep the Berries

>Take half (1 Bluk Berry, 3 random Berries)

>Take it all (2 Bluk Berries, 6 random Berries)

Chapter Text

“I’ll leave most of the Berries, I think. They’d just get squished under the grain sacks we have to load into it,” you say, passing Nicole. “We’ll take a Bluk, though,” you quickly correct. “Need some more seeds to get us started.” Until you can get a brewery going to make more varieties of booze, Bluks have a natural alcohol content you can mix some light drinks from, or have Hustle concentrate into something harder.

“Alright. Thanks,” she says after you. She avoids getting up.

Spring helps you transport all the Berries in the cooler onto the counter, arranging them in a way where they won’t fall off. It’s not a huge haul to pass up on, only a little over half a dozen. Hopefully it smooths things over with Larissa. You’ll leave contacting her until she’s had time to cool off. You have her brain phone number, after all.

Gwen sits back and watches, since she’d get slobber all over them. You tuck an extra Bluk into the item bag, then secure it in its usual place hanging from her neck. “That should be everything,” you step back and look at the cooler, running a claw down your front. Uneasily, you remove your poncho and set it on the floor. “Grass,” you awkwardly address it. You really need a better name than Grass, to call it by.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigued (19, 6/12)

A name. Right now, it thinks of itself as a part of you. Every time you refer to it as something else, it becomes a little harder to feel what it… can feel, for lack of a better way to describe it. The connection is getting thin. How long before it starts to realize it’s its own entity? To something born of perception, a name could be something of great power. It could shape how it perceives itself. That much can be just as true of people, too.

>Name the loss grass?

You gently try to ease it through the process. “I’m not going to abandon you, but you are really itchy. Could you ride in the cooler for now, and we’ll find somewhere to plant you when we get home? You still need to be in the ground, I think, or you’ll die…” You draw a claw along it, channeling your fingers to soothe the herb.

>Murdoch Power: Disadvantage, Combat, Supported, Fatigued, Itchy (12, 20/10)

In hopes that it will help, you release a little bit of Salandit pheromone into the air.

>Murdoch Charm: Dealmaking, Supported, Sweet Scent, Thief King’s Fingers, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigued, Itchy (15/4)

Slowly, gently, the plant allows you to peel it off of your torso. Your scales are marked by tiny scratches, but nothing has pierced deep enough to draw blood this time. You lay it at the bottom. When you move to close the lid, it wriggles in distress, so you begrudgingly hold it open. “Okay, alright.”

“This thing is wasting our time,” Gwen gruffly criticizes, now that the offending weed is no longer wrapped dangerously around your body.

Closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath and let it out. You don’t want to argue about it, so you resist the instinct to placate or argue. “How about you take b-both Hustle and Darcie out to do the mission?” you suggest, looking across at Spring as she helps you wheel the cooler out. It’s a smooth ride until you reach the bumpy cobblestones outside. Hopefully plants can’t get motion sickness.

“Okay,” Hustle perks up immediately upon hearing his name. His ears twitch and then pull back slightly. “… What mission?”

“We’re going looking for a Sun Stone. They look like a sun,” Spring answers him flatly, guiding her half of the cooler with one hand. You saunter back towards the market to pick up your grains. “Sounds like a plan. More eyes are better when we’re looking for something.” She looks back over her shoulder at Gwen. “You’ll have to help Murdoch get this thing around the hills and stuff on the way. Why don’t you get some practice? Not all of us hatch with hands, after all.” Motioning you to slow down, she sways away from the side of the cooler and motions Gwen up with said hand.

>Spring Charm: Survival, Arrogant (11/10)

She probably could have made it less condescending, but Gwen lets out a snort of air and accepts the practicality of Spring’s argument. She walks up alongside the cooler and sets her flank against it to steady it as you pull it forward. Thankfully the opening is on your side. You try to smile across at her. “Th…thanks, Gwen.”

“Mm.”

It’s a short stop at the bugs’ stall. You count out 5 Poke to pay them, and Felsi offers to help load them in the cooler, but you nervously wave her away. You don’t want to have to explain the black weed if she sees it curled up down there. Spring helps you lower each of the two medium-sized bags down, and the loss grass flattens itself against the interior wall to make room. The longer it’s not in contact with you, the more you feel this tenuous bond fraying. Distance is also a factor. Maybe that’s just a part of what it is, clingy and needy.

The final, small bag of oats you set on top of the others. It doesn’t quite fit, but it props the lid open which keeps the grass satisfied that there’s an open that to you, and makes holding onto the whole thing easier while you cart it around.

And boy is it hard to cart around when it’s full. The wheels on the bottom struggle to navigate the cobbled roads, as you approach the terminal road that doesn’t quite reach into the tall grasses between you and home. You can see Darcie waiting there.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence (7, 5/8)

>Percy Intelligence: Advantage, Perceptive (10, 6/8)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Baking, Fatigued (20, 19/10)

There’s a sizeable white oval resting on her back, balanced by her tail. You recognize immediately the lack of patterns on it, which normally denote the species. It’s unfertilized.

“Whoa!” bounding ahead, Hustle looks at the egg with sparkling eyes. “You’re having a baby? Aww it’s gonna be so cute! What are we gonna name it?”

“I was thinking of Bun. You know, since a baker put it in my oven,” the scorpion answers Hustle sarcastically. He doesn’t pick up on it in the slightest, grabbing her around the head and squeezing her in a hug.

“Congratulations!”

“Yup.” She meets your eyes as you and Gwen finally finish dragging the cooler over. “Hey. Don’t worry, Percy… I mean, we remembered to use protection.” After a small laugh, Darcie looks aside at the grass and admits, “Actually, I didn’t even realize we were in the same egg group. So uh, no, it’s not fertilized.”

“It’s not?!” Hustle pulls back, tongue drooping out.

“No. Sorry… I was just joking.” Darcie looks at Hustle’s hurt expression and rolls her eyes. “Don’t look so disappointed, I’m definitely not ready to be a mother!”

“Good thing somebody was on the ball. A little scorpion or uh, mold cluster crawling around would be cute, but we kinda got stuff to do,” Spring steps up to Darcie and draws a finger along the smooth surface of the oval. “Guess you and Percy can make us eggs to bake with, huh. Who knew you were so fertile. How’d it feel laying one?”

“Kkrkeh,” nervously laughing, Darcie stares straight ahead. “Yeah. It was tough.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigued (15, 10/8)

The stretching was a powerful, deep sensation. Darcie enjoyed it. You can tell from the way her eyes get excited thinking about it. There are underlying nerves, though. She slipped. It was a close call.

Coiled black veins around her heart. Ready to pump the crude oil.

She wants more. An attraction to the sense of risk and danger. Sensation. Shaken free of her small life, she swallows up the big world and all it has to offer. The thirst never quenches, only deepens. It scares her. As it should. A burgeoning addiction, a dangerous dream if allowed to fester.

With a boisterous laugh, Spring claps Darce on the back of the tail. Her crane-like grip on the egg remains firm. “So how are we getting this thing back? Murdoch says you me and Hustle are going delving for a Sun Stone, and the cooler is pretty full. Might tumble out.”

“W-well,” uncertainly, you consider an idea. “The grass is flexible, it uh- it could help hold the egg in there so it doesn’t fall out.” It slithers up onto the bags of grain like a serpent, and Gwen’s hackles raise at the proximity, even with the raised lid blocking her line of sight to the thing.

With a pursed lip, Spring watches its movements. She takes hold of the egg and nods to Darcie, who lets it go. Lifting the lid a little further, Spring adjusts the positions of the bags to nestle it into the corner, and the loss grass wraps around the wide base of the oval. “Guess that’ll work.”

“Least is being useful,” Gwen begrudgingly grumbles.

A quick set of momentary goodbyes goes around. With an excited Hustle on her heels and Darcie coolly scuttling at her other side, Spring gives you a wave over the shoulder. They disappear into the grass. Soon, you and Gwen do too.

>Murdoch Fitness: Supported, Fatigued (15/10)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, No Arms, Distracted (19, 20/14)

Even with a less-than-ideal body shape, Gwen proves her aptitude many times on the way back. Any time the cooler gets a wheel stuck or has to get up an incline, she moves to the back and shoves it forward with her shoulder, while you keep it steady. The walk from Windmill to Stepstone is anything but fast, and Gwen is not much for conversation. Even on a good day. Today is not a good day, for Gwen.

When you get home, you will need to finalize your choice for a location. You’ve decided on a centralized structure, with room to expand to include the facilities you want to add later. You want to avoid causing too much noise and disturbing the villagers, but you’ll stop by the Priestess’ shrine and ask permission anyways.

You’ll bring Victor with you for the site planning. You want to catch up with him, anyways. You wonder if you should bring Gwen too, or give her some space to cool off?

>>Where to place the resort facilities?

>At the inner edge of the footprint, along the cliff wall opposite the shrine (will be within the village, but minimize noise pollution)

>At the outer edge of the footprint, atop the cliffs (guests will have a great view of the village and won’t need to go up and down the cliffside walkways, but noise will carry down from above)

>On the steppes between footprints (less rustic village scenery, but more convenient for guests to reach and won’t cause any noise, more space to expand)

>Search for hot springs besides the ones Victor showed you to avoid stealing up the villagers’ comforts, and build nearby (convenient location for including the hot springs as an attraction, but will be further from the village and you might not find a good location before Michael arrives)

>Request use of the hot springs Victor showed you from Priestess Neha, and build near them (convenient location for village and hot springs access, but the villagers would need to share their springs with your guests and they might eventually get very full and loud)

>>What to do with the loss grass when you get home?

>Plant it near the cliff base, in a shadowed place out of sight?

>Plant it on the steppes somewhere?

>Plant it near the resort site?

>Plant it near Gwen’s hut? (it will be in plain view)

>Get a pot to keep it in from the general store so you can move it around?

>Ask the Priestess to look after it at the shrine? (she will have questions)

Chapter Text

Home. It’s funny how much this place feels like home, even though you’ve spent more time away than here. You and Gwen roll the cooler trunk up to the top of the pathway down the cliffside. Navigating this decline without sending it toppling over the edge, or worse- going with it- is going to be a real trial. Still, the soothing colors and open spaces down in the footprint valley feel welcoming after the stresses you’ve been under.

“Let’s take a break and uh, gather our strength before going down?” you suggest. Gwen looks fine, but she nods and takes a seat beside you near the edge. Not too near. Just enough to take in the view. Surveying the village, you confirm that the southern wall of the cliffside is currently unused. Building against the cliffs would normally limit your expansion options, but with Mamachomp’s help you’ll be able to dig tunnels and reinforce them to make them safe. Your thoughts are interrupted by movement in your left periphery.

>Victor Will: Advantage (1, 4/10)

>Victor Charm: Fatigue (19/12)

A small shape approaches, flapping between two of the cliffside paths, then hopping and scurrying up the incline to meet you. “Murdoch! Gwen!” Victor calls out, his voice carrying well ahead of him. By the time he crawls over to sit with the two of you, he’s panting from the effort. “I… came when I felt you get close.” When you snicker at him, he pokes you in the snout with one of his wingtips, accidentally sticking it into your nose. “Oops, sorry.” He quickly wipes his claw some plainsgrass. Victor eyes the overfull cooler, and his nose twitches as he sniffs the air. “For the best I did, perhaps. You look like you could use some assistance.”

The bat’s slumped frame and panting breathes earn a cocked head from Gwen. “You sure you can?”

“I can,” he starts, rubbing at the back of his ears. “Try my best?”

She lets out a small huff of air and nods her head.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (5, 13/10)

Concerned about Victor’s state after your dream visits, you watch him carefully. He takes a seat on the ground, folding his wings in front of him. It’s an awkward position for his species, but he looks used to sitting this way. It doesn’t take him long to settle and adjust. When he notices your staring, he shyly covers one eye with his ear and smiles. His face is droopy, and his eyes are strained. You think he’s been having trouble sleeping.

An old tightness around his throat, in the night. It is not awake, but it stirs.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks. You blink, and shake your head.

“You look tired, h- has everything been ah, alright?”

As if summoned by the mere suggestion, Victor’s jaws are stretched open by a yawn, a quiver vibrating his ears. They produce a reverberating sound- like a blend of microphone feedback and Stantler-call. You flinch. Gwen’s ears peel back and she bares her teeth in a grimace. Covering his mouth with a wingtip, Victor apologizes, “Pardon me. Those can get quite loud.”

Shaking her head to knock the ringing loose from her ears, Gwen lies down. “Is fine.”

Straightening himself out, Victor finally answers your question, “I have been having trouble sleeping. Old nightmares resurfacing.” His fangs bite at the bottom of his jaw, and he fidgets his legs.

Wet nightmares.

“I’ve avoided letting Boris know anything is wrong yet,” he expands, with a deep breath in, then deflates with a sigh. “He doesn’t know all about the King yet. Just… loose details. I’d rather keep it that way, as long as I can. Not have to explain these nightmares.” Ashamed. You’ve felt the same, like her cruelty was some just punishment, and feeling bad about it was a crime- yet fighting back against those feelings was also a crime. A self-sustaining paradox.

Reaching over Gwen’s back, you take hold of his shoulder and rub it. His black fur is bristly, but soft. “We should talk some more. L-later, tonight,” you regretfully add. “I’ve really got to get to work planning the resort stuff before Michael and M-mama arrive.”

Victor stares into space for a moment, then swivels his ear out of his face and looks at you. “Mama?”

“Oh, um. A Garchomp friend,” you laugh at the slip of your little personal nickname and get up, brushing off your hindquarters. “She doesn’t use a name, b-but she has kids, so I uh, internally call her Mama.” And sometimes externally.

“Oh! I think I probably would have just flown away if I’d run into someone like that.” Victor’s squeaky laugh follows behind you, and Gwen slinks up on your other side, as you return to the cooler. The length of the grass has stretched out of the opening, ‘watching’ you like a coiled snake. Victor stops. “What is that?”

“That’s…”

>Name: Blackberry (1) or Fergus (2): 1

“Blackberry,” the word leaves your mouth on a whim. A premeditated whim, but truthfully you were caught between two ideas. In a split second, one emerges above the other. Maybe that’s a sign? If there is a change, it is so subtle you feel nothing amiss. The grass sways and slithers further out, its back shimmering like midnight water. “He, or- uh, this is one of the things we r-really gotta talk about,” you answer him, taking hold of the cooler’s side and gently ushering the grass back inside. Gwen glowers at it, circling to the front of the cooler. “Just, be careful of the thorns,” you caution.

“Okay?”

Victor takes a place at the back, intending to act as an anchor, using his body weight to help him reduce the wheels’ natural inclination to roll downhill. With Gwen at the front easing it forward, her hindquarters rested against the fore of the container, you grip the side and guide it so that it doesn’t go off course.

>Murdoch Fitness: Supported, Fatigue (5/10)

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage (11, 17/10)

>Victor Fitness: Disadvantage, Neat Freak, Fatigue (14, 1/14)

In spite of your best efforts, the cooler wobbles as it goes over a bump and you lose your grip, causing it to come loose from Gwen’s hold. Victor trips over the same bump the cart wheels did, and he faceplants into the ground with a startled squeak, accidentally shoving into it as he tries to grab for purchase on something.

The cooler careens towards the cliffside, at the corner where the trail winds back on itself. There’s a crude rope railing that’s been added to some of the ledges since you were last here, but it has little hope of holding the weight of the grain cooler.

>Gwen Fitness: Advantage, Bite (14, 20/8)

Charging ahead, Gwen bites down on the edge of the opening, holding it with her jaws. She snarls, as her paws drag against the ground and her neck is strained forwards, but the cooler slows to a stop at the curved landing, before it can even reach the rope and dangle over the edge.

>Gwen received minor damage and a sprain

With the disaster averted, Gwen lets go and flexes her neck, whining at a flare of pain. You scurry down to her and take her head in your claws, “Are you okay?”

“Pull something,” she whines, taking a seat. Victor flaps down next to you to take a look. You reach into the bag and pull out an Oran, holding it for her to chew into. The mild juices run down her chin and dribble into her chest fur. She’ll need a quick rinse later. It takes barely any time at all for the Oran to kick in. “Mm. Better. Thanks.”

“That was a close call. Sorry, I mess that up,” Victor frowns. “There must be a better way of going about this.”

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage (1, 20/10)

Grabbing rope from your supplies, Victor looks it over, and then looks at the cooler. “Alright. I have an idea. Mind lending me some fingers, Murdoch?”

“A-anytime, pal,” you take the rope and follow his lead. Victor has you tie it around the cooler in a loop, then fashion a harness around Gwen Then, you add a small loop around your waist and Victor’s. “Okay. I get it,” you say as you finish tightening the last knot. Victor nods.

“It will be much easier to control the descent if we are all serving as anchors,” he takes position behind you, and the three of you all nod. Gwen nudges the cooler to the next slope and it begins rolling down. Your Guild allows it to do the hard work, all you need to do is maintain the friction to control its speed. If it runs into a bump or starts to veer, Gwen steers it by tugging on the rope and dragging it back into a better position.

The whole process takes a while, but soon you are once again on level ground, depositing the cooler near Gwen’s hut. Some of the villagers are watching your return with interest. A Kabutops peeks up out of the water of a pond near the circular residential area, and a Cranidos sitting in front of his own hut puffs on a long wooden pipe. The smoke smells of aromatic herbs. You position yourself to conceal the grass from their view.

“Phew,” Victor looks down at his dusty front from when he took a tumble on the slope. “I need a wash too.”

“Why don’t you two get cleaned up? I need to- to talk to Neha about something,” you suggest. Reaching into the container, you motion to the grass.

>Murdoch Charm: Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (12/10)

‘Blackberry’ understands your meaning, subtly slithering up your arm and coiling itself into place beneath your poncho. A familiar irritant wriggles along your scales, and you detect Gwen scowling. She takes two hesitant steps after Victor, who is scurrying towards the stream, then turns and pads after him.

The shrine. Long ropes hang down from the cliffsides, adorned with paper lanterns. You’ve not seen them lit, so they must be used for festivals or ceremonies. The structure’s wood seems to have been artificially petrified, at least you don’t think they’d have found that much intact petrified wood just looking around. Among the colorful cloth draped around the central brazier tower, Neha is seated on her flame-patterned cushion, curled up inside her shell. At first you think she’s napping, but her eyes crack open at your approach.

>Neha Power: Advantage, Mysticism (11, 19/8)

There’s not much wind right now, but the stringed charms attached to her spiral shell flutter in an unseen gust and their edges glimmer. You feel an uncomfortable wriggling around your midsection, and stop getting closer. Neha’s eyes grow wider, and she crawls down from her cushion.

“So you, uh, know something about this?” you ask nervously. Blackberry clings to you, fearful of the priestess’ approach.

“About what, dear?” it’s clear from her demeanor that Neha knows something is wrong, and when you wince she stops her approach. “I feel an uneasiness in the air, and my charms react to a presence from outside the coil. Has Hoopa gifted you with a boon of a ghostly nature?”

Over your shoulder, you feel the eyes of curious villagers. “Not exactly. D-do you have somewhere private we could talk?” Neha makes a gurgling hum and crawls around her cushion, ushering you closer. Reaching under your poncho, you try to soothe the grass with your fingers, while you step through a cloth flap into the shrine.

>Murdoch Charm: Lucid Dreamer, Thief King’s Fingers, Fatigue, Itchy (19/10)

Its irritating wiggling is quelled. The interior of Ho-Oh’s shrine is little more than a tent beneath the brazier’s podium. Underneath the metal bowl is a white bell that hangs within the cloth enclosure. Light that passes through the thin fabric takes on a rainbow of colors, which paint the white surface of the instrument.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue, Itchy (16, 15/14)

Bells are a common feature in many shrines and temples throughout all regions, but hold different meanings. Most commonly, it is to call the attention of a deity or to send off spirits to their rest. Ho-Oh’s bells are of the former, but can also sound as an omen to signal her approval or displeasure. According to Johtoan tradition, Ho-Oh judges the Johtoan dead, and may grant resurrection or reincarnation to those deemed deserving. As such, her followers study and train to understand ghosts- both Ghost Pokemon and other spirits, those less accepted as fact.

Neha climbs onto another cushion, and watches you expectantly. Seeing she’s not going to make the first move, you reach up and tenderly take off your poncho. Like a long, fibrous centipede, the grass crawls long your scales, moving onto your back and regarding the priestess warily. “I…” at this point, you feel like it’s better to tell the full truth. “I coughed up some k-kind of substance, after I had this- this lucid dream,” you stammer. Neha’s face is steady, and she watches the entity as warily as it watches her. “I’ve been having these dreams lately, w-with w-w- rn, weird glimpses into other peoples’ dreams or- or memories. And I coughed this onto some grass, and it turned into this.”

There is a moment of silence. “And this is not a boon that Hoopa gifted to you?”

“N..no, he’s uh, only partially aware of this and- he was going to ask someone what’s going on, but he hasn’t gotten back to me and- and he doesn’t know about this guy yet,” one claw motions at your shoulder, where its ‘head’ is resting. “I uh, named him Blackberry.” Him feels right. Maybe that’s just you.

>Neha Intelligence: Advantage, Ho-Oh Mythology, Mysticism, Charmed Location, Very Difficult (20, 7/8)

The priestess is silent again, for an uncomfortable amount of time. Her eyes are closed, and a small part of you would have to wonder if she’s dozed off, had the charms on her sides not been flowing in the still air. A faint resonance fills the air. The bell has not chimed, but the clapper vibrates with a metallic din. Then, she speaks. “There is a soul in this entity,” she says, softly. “Not a whole soul. A piece of yours’. They ring with the same tune. Nearly the same tune.”

Jaw open, you chew at the air, setting a claw to your chest. “M-my soul? A piece? I- what does that mean?”

“Barely a sliver,” a clarification meant to soothe, but you feel anything but soothed right now. Panic rises in your chest. Blackberry is calm. That disastrous feedback bouncing back and forth has ceased. “That it somehow found its way apart from you and into this entity is what concerns me.” Neha raises a tendril from her face and runs it through the air. “And this one. It is beyond the manner of spirits that I know. However,” she stops. Hesitates.

“What? However what?”

There is a grim sort of look in her eyes. “My place as a maiden of Ho-Oh sets me apart,” she says, gently. “I am privy to certain truths, a go-between for my goddess in this place, an instrument channeling her facilitation of this world. Bound to some of the same rules as the ones who oversee the world, my dear. And some patrons are far stricter in enforcing these rules than others. I must choose my words with care.” Not all as free-minded as the Thief King. You shouldn’t be surprised. Neha closes those eyes. “Could you bring me a drink of water?” Another tentacle takes a wooden bowl from beside her cushion and gives it to you. “Leave… Blackberry with me. For just a moment.”

You don’t need a connection to feel the plant’s apprehension. It physically tenses on your back. Less bothersome than when it’s wrapped around you.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Dealmaking, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue, Itchy (17, 19/12)

You know how it feels when someone is trying to sell you something. You don’t get that feeling here. Neha means you no harm- the worry you sense from her is for you.

For Gwen.

But not for it.

>Leave Blackberry with Neha and get her some water

>Insist on staying

>Leave, but try to eavesdrop (the curtains are thin, it will be difficult to hide)

>Leave with Blackberry

Chapter Text

Reaching back, you coax Blackberry onto your arm, flinching as it crawls over your tender wrist. The wince is not lost on Neha, who remains silent and still, watching you. You squat down and hold your claw to the ground. “It’s okay. Can you just, wait here a sec, wh-while I go get some water? I’ll, I promise I’ll be right back.”

>Murdoch Charm: Name, Lucid Dreamer, Dealmaking, Trust Established, Fatigue, Itchy (9/6)

Hesitantly, the length of grass sets its thorny ‘legs’ on the ground, feeling at it uncertainly. It is a long, slow process of coiling into the dirt, before Blackberry slithers its roots into the ground. A shudder of satisfaction runs through the thing, and it becomes clear just how much discomfort being uprooted had been causing. “H..he can be kind of clingy,” you want Neha, running the back of a claw down the grass’… spine? “It’s in his nature to be, uh, scared of being left alone.”

When you stand and look up, Neha’s expression has not changed, but she speaks softly. “I do not mean you any harm, little one.” In spite of everything, the parting feels uneasy for you, as well. Ultimately, you decide to trust the priestess, and take up the bowl.

“I’ll be- r-right back!” You’ll be fast. Back in no time.

With a reptilian scamper, you roll your feet into the air, using your tail for balance. The space between the shrine and the stream is mostly sandy soil, not good for growing anything.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (12, 11/12)

Some of Ho-Oh’s rituals and ceremonies involve fire, but unlike worship of Victini, destruction is never the intent. Neha probably built the shrine away from the homes and anything the village is growing, to reduce the risk of any accidents, as much as for the peace and quiet that distance affords prayergoers.

The stream water is fresh and clear, sparkling with minerals carried up from the underground springs that feed into it. The clean smell of running water hits your nose as you kneel next to it and bend down, to fill the bowl. It doesn’t take long. You stand up, and spot movement approaching out of the corner of your eye. Gwen is trotting beside Victor from downstream, both of them damp. Gwen’s fur is sticking up in all directions from violently drying herself off, and Victor is attempting to straighten it with a brush while keeping up with her. His wingtips fit into two fabric loops on the sides of the tool.

He’s not doing great, but he’s trying. “Can we hold still now?” he asks when Gwen finally reaches you, and nuzzles up under your chin. She sits down, and Victor huffs, beginning to make progress in earnest. Gwen grits her teeth when he tries to work out a knot in her clumpy fur.

“No more plant?” she asks, with a sense of relief.

“For a bit,” guiltily, you look away from her, and freeze when you see a glimmering flame starting to rise up from within the brazier. “Huh?”

>Neha Charm: Counselling, Childcare, Murdoch’s Assurance (11/4)

>Neha Power: Advantage, Mysticism, Cooperating, Weak Heart, Extremely Difficult (11, 18/18)

There is a no sound from within the shrine, but you can see a pulsing flood of light pressing its fingers against the inside of the cloth. Feeling a surge of panic-fueled adrenaline, you sprint back towards the shrine. You hear Victor yelp behind you, as a brush is yanked, the tight restraints holding it in place doing the same to him and dragging him behind Gwen.

>Murdoch Fitness: Magic Tricks, Fatigue (17/10)

You have a steady hand. Even as you sprint, you instinctively keep the bowl balanced in your claws. Only a bit of water slops out as you burst through the draped fabric wall and skid to a stop.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (6, 18/10)

A hush falls over you. It is quiet here, but you feel a deep vibration. It reverberates through the guts of your being.

Seated on her cushion, Neha’s eyes are closed, body tense, focusing intently. Her tentacles grip the edges of her cushion like she’s on a plane flying through a thundercloud. The sunlight that filters into the shrine through the curtains is reflecting and refracting off the bell in a rainbow of colors that stings your eyes to look at. It sways from side to side, ringing without sound, gleaming like the flare of the sun in a photograph. The gleam drips down like water from a waterfall, pouring around a roiling mass of black, bubbling Want floating in the air just underneath. The pouring light curls back up below, forming a flowing, liquid bubble. Where the eerie substance peels away as it writhes in discomfort, you can see a wilted blade of grass underneath.

Beneath the bell, Neha has laid out a circle of candles while you were gone- seven, lit with flames in the colors of the rainbow. You do not know where she got them from.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (14, 1/10)

From what little you know of ceremonies and the occult comes from pop culture and tangential research while studying stage magic, but a ring of candles probably means a boundary or containment. That must be what’s keeping the ringing of the bell silent.

To keep something in, or to keep something out?

>Murdoch Will: Fatigue, Dependent (10/14)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (2, 10/10)

Your heart is pounding, and for a moment you freeze. As much of you wants this thing gone as wishes it well. It’s a dire responsibility, and driving a wedge between you and Gwen. Mind racing just as rapidly as your heart, you look at Neha again. Her steady countenance does not suggest a struggle with something fighting back. Somehow, she’s convinced Blackberry that whatever is happening here is a good idea.

She is not fighting it. She is swimming upstream.

Snapping yourself out of frozen shock, you pry your limbs out of inaction. All you have to go by are educated guesses.

>Trust Neha, allow her to finish the ceremony

>Call out to Neha, try to sway her decision to destroy Blackberry or not (you don't know her decision, might break her concentration)

>Splash water on Neha to break her concentration

>Splash water on Blackberry to startle him out of complacency

>Snuff out the candles and grab Blackberry

>Snuff out the candles and grab Neha, tell Blackberry to get away

>Drop the water and grab Blackberry, without snuffing the candles

Chapter Text

You don’t freeze. You take your foot off of the gas, and lean back. Neha has given you no reason not to trust her.

Within its pearlescent sphere, the grass begins to melt. The grass itself, the wilted blade that was encased in the sunken black goop. Colors bleed out and curl around, flowing in reverse. Yellow and brown revitalize and blossom green, forming a new exterior. The crude black want writhes instinctively, resisting capture. In the end, it is encapsulated, and the molten cellulose squeezes. The pearl of light becomes blindingly white, and you have to avert your eyes. You see Gwen squinting and turning her own gaze down to the ground, beside you. Victor is peering in through a crack in the curtains and covers his eye with a wing.

>Neha Luck: Weak Heart (Bad)

A shape begins to mold from the light, like clay. It mottles, growing patches of dim that fail to pierce through the brightness, then sink back down. You see Neha straining, the priestess’ breath rattles hard. Catharsis comes when the light breaks, and she slumps onto her pillow, going still. A blade of fear slices into your mind, and you rush over to her side.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (6, 1/12)

>Gwen Intelligence: (8/10)

You have no idea how to tell if an Omanyte is alive. Her shell precludes any attempts to peer at the rise and fall of a chest. As you stand there, claws frozen in the air twitching in need of something to do, you’re shoved to the side. “Neha!” Gwen crouches next to the priestess, nudging the Omanyte’s face with her nose and licking her in an attempt to wake her.

Something falls down and lands in the middle of the circle of candles, drawing your eyes away. Round, with stubby little legs. Its flesh is purple-red, but so dark it’s nearly black. From its head sprout a pair of pale yellow-green leaves, with jagged edges and a thorny base. Hanging from the side of the twig is a shriveled thing, like a second body that failed to fully form.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (16, 13/12)

A Cherubi, but it’s abnormal. You’ve never heard of a coloration like this, even among the rarer breeds.

The newly minted Pokemon opens its eyes. Tiny circles of matte black that reflect no light. It tries to stand, but falls over and rolls onto its back, kicking its legs helplessly into the air.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (14, 4/10)

Reincarnated. The grass.

This is Blackberry. You have no doubt. Neha used the dying grass it was spread over to reincarnate a Pokemon body, then stuffed the black stuff down inside the shell. Why? How? You don’t know, and she’s in no state to answer. Grass has no soul, or so you would assume. The only mind in there will be whatever nascent consciousness was inside the dream-spawn. A piece of you, diverging into something of its own.

Momentary stunned silence breaks, and Victor crawls into the shrine, going quickly to Neha’s side. He waves at Gwen to give him room, but she’s not paying attention. Biting his lip, the Noibat leans in and lays an ear flat against the side of her shell.

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage, Noibat (2, 13/8)

His voice shakes as he reports, “Her- h-her heart- it isn’t beating right! It’s barely beating at all!”

“What?” you shoot upright and shuffle back and forth on your hindclaws, looking for something, anything to help. “How? Shouldn’t it be- that shouldn’t happen! There’s p-protections right?!”

“Not when you get old enough!” Victor steps back, in the midst of just as much panic. “It’s-!” whatever he was going to say devolves into a series of panicked shrieks, constrained by his wings clasping his ears over his face in an attempt to muffle them.

“What we do?” looking between the two of you, Gwen is wide-eyed, expression frayed with panic. “What do?!”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (1, 17/12)

The strain of conducting the ritual and struggling against the ‘want’ was too much for her advanced age. Given when she collapsed, the heart attack must have been happening even during the reincarnation ceremony. If her heart stops completely, it’s over. You have a very small window to do something to restart its natural rhythm.

>Murdoch Will: Fatigue (12/12)

Focus. Everyone else is panicking. You need to keep your head. You take a swift mental inventory of things that could do just that:

Divine intervention? You’re in a shrine to Ho-Oh. If someone knocked you out, maybe you could reach Hoopa somehow? What consequences could that have? Maybe the presence that bent your brain open could help, it clearly paints outside of the rules.

An electric shock to jolt her heart out of its improper rhythm. There might be an Electric type somewhere in this village, but you don’t have long to search.

A shot of adrenaline. You don’t have one, but there are Berries that have similar effects if you can manage to feed one to her. They might have one at Amor’s shop.

You have no idea what your new abilities are capable of. If you could force yourself to upchuck more black goop somehow, maybe you could make something useful out of it. Then again, experimenting recklessly with that stuff is what caused this whole problem in the first place.

Evolution? Evolution is as likely to strain her body further past the breaking point as to shock it back into order, it’s a gamble and normally you’d trigger it with Compound R4- the stuff they put in Rare Candies. You definitely don’t have that. You don’t even know what’s in it, they keep a tight lid on that.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (1, 18/12)

Given her age and lack of evolution, she might be carrying an Everstone. There’s none visible on the outside, but it might be inside her shell. Removing it in her body’s current state of distress could trigger evolution.

What will you do? Victor and Gwen are panicking, but maybe it’ll calm them down to be given a task. They’re both local, and Victor knows a bit about Berries. You have no idea what Blackberry is able to do besides fall over.

>Send Victor to search the cliffside residences for someone with an Electric type move?

>Send Gwen or Victor to search the residential huts for someone with an Electric type move?

>Send Victor to check Amor’s shop for a Berry that will help?

>Try to search inside Neha’s shell for an Everstone to remove?

>You’re in a shrine. Someone could pray? (Praying together is more effective)

>Try to coax Blackberry into doing something?

>Have Victor help you try to contact Hoopa?

>Have Victor help you reach out for the mysterious presence?

>Have someone knock you out, so you can try to dredge up your want? (You’re definitely feeling the Fear of Loss right now)

Chapter Text

>Gwen Tiebreaker: 1 pray, 2 electric (2)

>Victor Tiebreaker: 1 pray, 2 medicine (1)

Formulations of a plan start to come together in your mind. “Gwen, do you- y- is there an Electric type in the village? Or j-justsomeone who can use the moves?” you quickly babble out, your tongue getting ahead of you.

>Gwen Intelligence: Panic (14/12)

“Codder,” she barks, leaping back onto all fours in a sudden rush of energy. “Going!” Then, she bounds out of the shrine. It sounded like a name. No one you know. Beside you, Victor is grabbing onto his ears and staring at Neha in horror.

“V-Vic!” nudging his shoulder, you shake him loose from his stupor. “Where is her- h-heart? I need to, to keep blood pumping or something!”

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage, Noibat (12, 19/8)

Laying one ear back against her shell and folding the other down against his head, Victor closes his eyes. Panic gives way to focus as he breathes, listening only to her body. “It’s. Here,” he motions, and you scooch in beside him, gripping under Neha’s shell. She’s heavier than you expected- the shell is, rather. You should have expected as much from a Rock type. Between the two of you she easily flops onto the cushion. His ear flattens against the spiral the moment she lands.

Grabbing your claw, Victor guides it along her underside. Omanyte skin is incredibly smooth, and squishy. You are reminded immediately of the blue modeling clay you used to have, when you were young. A faint, irregular pulse hits your fingers, and you try to find a good position to press against it. You don’t know how much force you need to use, or how much force you can use, compared to a human. That’s bad. Neha’s body has no ribs to crack. That’s good?

“Can you- b-brace against her uh- th-the- I need something to push against, or- or she’ll just- j-” you don’t need to finish, Victor is already hopping over her. With a single flap of his wings, he lands and braces his admittedly slim and meek shoulder against her from the other side. It’ll have to be enough.

>Victor Fitness: Disadvantage, Tackle, Fatigue (1, 18/10)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, No Lips x2, Clumsy, Fatigue (13, 2/16)

>Murdoch Fitness: Fatigue, Victor Fail (13/14)

Bracing with your tail, you start to shove into her chest to compress her heart and help it pump blood. At first, it feels like it’s working. Victor quickly loses his footing and falls over, ending up with Neha’s shell on top of him. “I’m okay!” he quickly insists, so you don’t stop to check on him.

When you grab onto her face to try and blow air into her lungs, you find it difficult to do. For one, you have no lips. For two, neither does she. Of all the human features you never thought you’d miss so desperately, it’s the flesh blobs around your mouth. You practically need to make her deepthroat your snout to feel like you’re making progress at all, the sharp teeth around her small mouth scraping against your face.

Between the desperate breaths, hard blowing and physical effort with no good source of resistance, you soon find your exhausted body flagging. What time you bought, if any at all, is negligible. Your fear fights with a sense of despair and regret, and wins. With shaking limbs, you try to lift Neha up so that Victor can get out.

>Murdoch Fitness: Panic, Fatigue (9/10)

>Victor Fitness: Disadvantage, Tackle, Panic, Fatigue (1/8)

It’s no use. You manage to lift her a little, but his leg is firmly stuck. Victor struggles as hard as he can, but just ends up using up what little energy he has and finally flopping back, eyes closed.

>Victor is Exhausted

Slumping against her side, you let out a defeated sigh. You hope Gwen is having better luck.

>Blackberry Fitness: Clumsy (3/12)

The Cherubi that was born from the grass is still trying and failing to wobble to his feet. Black tears trail down the sides of his face, bubbling away into faint smoke the moment they leave his Berry-skin. Blackberry’s tears are silent, accompanied not by crying but by the mute motion of it. The creature lacks a voice. Crawling over, you help him up and pull him into a hug. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.” Those tears feel bitter and cold where they touch your scales. They resonate with something in you, and you feel yourself tearing up in response. Every old wound aches. From the first time you accidentally deleted your save file, to when she left you. They ache, but it’s not powerful enough to tear them open.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (3, 18/10)

You don’t think Neha’s soul got pulled into him. You don’t feel anything but him, in his tears.

Carrying the newly reborn spawn to Neha’s side, you sit next to Victor, who is lying exhausted and defeated. His breathing struggles under Neha’s weight, but he’s not suffocating. Tears of desperate effort floundering and failing trail down from the corners of his eyes. You take his wingtip in your claw.

“I guess-” you lose your breath just as you start to speak, and choke. “All we can do is pray, now.” Pray for Neha and pray that Gwen finds someone who can help. Blackberry nuzzles deeper into your chest.

>Murdoch Luck: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fear of Loss Potency 7, Blackberry’s Tears (32, 8/30)

>Victor Luck: Telepathy (73/70)

>Blackberry Luck: Disadvantage, Fear of Loss (89, 48/70)

You feel Victor reaching out telepathically for- something. Anything that will answer. Is it praying, exactly? Enhanced prayer? Would that be cheating, somehow? You don’t have that option, so you just pray.

You’ve never been especially devout, but you’ve said your share if childhood prayers to Ho-Oh before the tradition grew stale with the feeling of shouting into a void that couldn’t hear you. Not that you had much worth praying for. What would Ho-Oh care to resurrect your deleted save file, or change the end of a sad movie?

This time is different. This is her priestess. Something has to happen. Your aching heart strains with desperation, and you shudder with each sob. A warmthless fever comes over you. If you had the power, your trembling body would be in a cold sweat.

Some off the bell’s gleam still lingers. Like morning dew rolling down a leaf, it coalesces at the edge and then falls off, landing in the middle of the circle of candles.

>Blackberry Luck: Disadvantage (Good)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (13, 18/10)

The candles weren’t knocked over in Blackberry’s flailing around. Light pools on the ground between them. This means something. A sign, a silent signal. It’s the same reason Neha created the circle. This is a cheat. Someone is tipping the scales in a way they shouldn’t be, and the circle of silence that kept the bell’s toll from being heard is keeping more than just that from being seen.

Ho-Oh is as much a fan of the rules as Hoopa is.

You need to get Neha into that circle. Sniffling up a trail that had begun to run down from your nose, you set Blackberry down and turn to Neha’s body. “Got to move her.”

Victor braces himself. With what flicker of strength he has left, he tries to help you push Neha off of him so you can drag her towards the ceremonial circle. Blackberry stumbles to the other side, using the cushion as a wall to keep himself from falling over, and rams his head into her side as you rock her for momentum.

>Victor Fitness: Disadvantage, Tackle, Exhausted (15, 6/12)

>Blackberry Fitness: Tackle (11/8)

>Murdoch Fitness: Blackberry Success, Fatigue (11/10)

The Noibat’s limbs are as strong as lasagna noodles at this point. But you manage to tip Neha enough for Blackberry to gracelessly headbutt her upright. Seizing the moment before she teeters the other way and falls onto you, you use her round shape to roll her unceremoniously into the scraps of her own ceremony. She flops onto her side in the circle like a rolled tire, and the light sinks into her.

>Neha Fitness: Disadvantage Negated, Elderly, Weak Heart (20/14)

Relief hits you like a crashing wave when you gear a gasp, and you spy the portentous twitch of a tentacle. “Neha?” you ask. A weak sound answers you. Stepping carefully over the candles, you set a claw on her side. She’s fallen still, immediately fallen asleep after the effort of her body to restart itself, but you feel a regular heartbeat. You feel her expand and shrink with breath. She’s alive.

Hobbling back to the cushion, you drop to the floor next to Victor’s equally unconscious form. Whether it was the massive relief or the effort that tipped him over the edge into passing out, you can’t be certain. Blackberry trips over him trying to hobble to you and lands on his stomach. When the tears touch his fur, you feel him shudder and his eyes blink awake.

“Priestess!” an unfamiliar voice calls. Light, hollow and windy, like a flute. You let your head loll to the side. Something round with a wooden texture rolls through the canvas, flipping it into the air. Gwen isn’t far behind. The two of them crowd to her side, knocking over the candles. It’s fine. It’ll be okay. They did their job.

Pressing her head into Neha’s belly, Gwen flicks her ear against the surface. “She alive. Heart normal.” She licks her former caretaker’s sleeping face gratefully.

“Thanks be to Ho-Oh! I didn’t know if I could-” the Pokemon she grabbed exclaims. A Voltorb, but made of wood? Its eyes lock onto the group lying in a slumped heap next to the priestess’ cushion, and it cuts off its previous thought. “What happened?” There’s no accusation in the curious musical voice, only concern.

“It’s uh,” you don’t think the truth is too out there. “She was doing a revival ritual, but it w-w- went w-wrong.”

A heavy whistle escapes the orb’s body through a hole you can’t see. “The priestess is becoming much too old for this. It is well and beyond time for a new shrine-keeper. Who was being revived?” One of your claws pats Blackberry on the back. “That’s a strange looking Cherubi.” The Voltorb stops to think. “Then again everyone told me I look strange.” Evidently deciding not to judge, the ball wobbles back and forth. You assume it’s a nod off acceptance. “We should move her back onto her cushion.”

We, it turns out, means everyone else. Not for lack of trying, but the Voltorb is even less useful in the task than Blackberry, who at the very least has legs. With Gwen back, however, the task goes by without incident.

You all stand around awkwardly in the shrine afterwards, looking at the mess. “I’ll clean up,” Victor offers, starting to pick up the candles. Gwen shakes her head and nudges him.

“Go. I will clean. Watch her. You are good at thinking, you help Murdoch more.”

Right. The meeting with Michael. You still have surveying to do. You’d forgotten in the mess.

One thing first. Reaching around Gwen’s neck, you hug her close. She presses against you readily, glad to be rid of the thorns barring her from this. The hug lasts for a comfortable amount of time, before a mass presses itself against your sides. You pull away to find Blackberry wanting to involve himself in the gesture, clingily leaning against you both.

Gwen snorts air out of her nose. “Less annoying like this. Still want space,” she sets her paw against the Cherubi’s face and pushes. She hadn’t meant to, but she knocks the Pokemon over. “Hrm. Sorry. Accident.”

Reaching down, you help him up. The thorns on his leaves are still pokey, but they don’t feel the same as before. They leave only surface scratches, like everything else. His blades have been packaged up in a roll of bubble wrap. “I’ll take him with me.” Gwen nods curtly and turns to begin picking up the candles with her mouth. The Voltorb has already started trying to help, blowing them out, then nudging them over and then rolling them into a pile. The hole is on top of their head.

You and Victor leave the shrine, on either side of Blackberry, helping steady his unsteady steps. The question of buying a pot is no longer an issue. The three of you cross the village, passing curious and concerned villagers moving towards the shrine to investigate what had Gwen chasing a ball so furiously towards it. Some of them ask you. You give them the same story. A revival ceremony gone wrong.

The southern cliff wall hangs over you when you arrive at the site you’ve decided on. Grass grows thickly here, away from the cultivated end of the village, and the walls have yet to be dug into for homes by the numerous Rock types here. “I forgot to bring some papers to draw up plans,” Victor swiftly excuses himself and hurries back towards home. He hurries for a few feet, at least, before settling into a tired drag.

Blackberry isn’t much for conversation while you wait, but you have a moment alone together.

When Victor gets back, you will be drawing a layout for Mamachomp to dig into the cliff face for you and lay foundation for any buildings you want to plan ahead for, and Michael should be arriving sometime today to plan the decor.

Mamachomp won’t be here for another two days. You will have time to discuss with Neha before finalizing your location, if she objects for some reason.

Chapter Text

Quiet comes around swiftly, once Victor’s tired wingbeats disappear. It’s the first time in a long time that you’ve been alone. Well, nearly alone. Blackberry’s silent company presses into one side, and on the other you lean against a smooth rock. What to consider the Cherubi still hasn’t settled in your brain. Are you here alone with yourself? A brother? A son?

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (5, 17/12)

You feel him breathing. His body expands and shrinks with each breath. You hold yours’, and hear a faint whisper. A tiny exhalation that stirs the air. Can he be taught to speak, you wonder? Or something else if he’s no voice at all. Gestures will be difficult with no hands. “How are you feeling?”

Blackberry blinks and looks up at you. No answer. Still only that silence of a city-less place, that outlines each tiny sound like the darkness of space frames the stars. No noise pollution to drown out their light- the humble grass swaying, the occasional pebble that topples down the hill after perhaps centuries of working its way free in the wind. With a hesitant claw, you wipe away the black tears, which have stopped flowing now. Thank Ho-Oh that his first memory as a… person? As a person, wasn’t killing the one who gave him a new body. Thank Ho-Oh this place can still be home.

Thoughts turn to business. A courtyard, with a pavilion in the center. You still want that sort of structure, but you can build the back into the cliff wall. Two wings will jut out. One day to become the brewery and greenhouse, perhaps. Visible, accessible, where people can come to trade. The plants will thrive better where natural light can find them anyways. At their center, through the pavilion, a reception area. It will split into what will one day be the lounge and café. Somewhere there, a stage. Maybe two- lounge and café, each. You’ll build them yourself, but you’ll still need the space.

Lost in thought, you flinch imperceptibly when Victor touches your shoulder. His eyes blink slowly, held in sync through force of will alone. “Got some stuff.” In his talons he carried down a bag, with paper and modeling clay. “Amor lent me some.”

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage, Noibat, Exhausted (7, 12/12)

Victor’s unique talents prove valuable as you plan. He sculpts out the shapes of the rooms where you plan to eventually install a stage. Acoustics. How to angle the sound where you want it to go; how to keep it from where you don’t. A wall around the courtyard would act as a soundbreak, so that the noise of revelry does not spill into the village. Since you are planning the dimensions in advance, Mamachomp could raise it herself from the stone below.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Fatigue (19, 8/12)

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage, Neat Freak, Exhausted (13, 5/16)

The rest you sketch on paper, and you start to gather stones to use as physical markers. You’re no engineer, and neither is Victor, but lengths of grass can serve as measuring tools so long as you keep them equivalent. He shies away from joining you kicking around in the loose dirt, content to lounge his upper body on the same round stone you’d been seated against. Blackberry sits next to him, watching everything you do in fascination.

>Spring Fitness: Advantage, Survival, Type Effective vs Dungeon (14, 8/6)

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Diligence, Type Effective vs Dungeon, Hustle’s Curious, Spring’s Arrogant (12, 16/10)

>Hustle Power: Advantage (1, 18/10)

>Spring Luck: Disadvantage (Bad, Good)

>Darcie Luck: (Good)

>Hustle Luck: Disadvantage (Great, Bad)

Only one of Victor’s ears has the strength to perk up. “I hear someone coming down. Is that the Mesprit Guild?”

You raise a claw above your eyes and strain into the distance, at the slopes that lead down into the village. A faint orange light can be seen in the dimming day, like a torch descending. “Nah, that’s j-just the team.”

“Oh!” managing a clap that convinces you it would sound excited were it just a little faster, Victor falls into step. “This will be my first time meeting most of our Guild in person.” The Noibat lags behind as much as Blackberry does, so you let them catch up. There’s no rush, for once.

Both halves arrive at the same time, outside Gwen’s hut. Gwen stands and plods over to you, giving you a long sloppy kiss up the side of your neck. “Neha okay. Just resting now,” she says with audible relief. It’s the first time you’ve noticed such a shift in Gwen’s posture. The tension before, to the looseness now. She’s ready for bed- for once not to rock it. You can feel it in her shoulders. As you wipe some slobber from your face, you spot Spring biting her lip and detect a lingering cloud of disappointment. She didn’t receive the same greeting.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Fatigue (11, 17/10)

Something else. A sliver of sunlight on a warm summer’s day. Heat burning from the inside the limbs. It tastes sweet, with no undertones of bitter dark chocolate. A pleasant memory lingers on the tip of her tongue. This is not her first time here.

Approaching Spring’s side, you pull her into a hug with you and Gwen. “Hey, uh, what- how’d it go?”

Leaning back, Spring rolls her tongue to her side and juts some of her lower canines out of her mouth in a disaffected sneer. “Bah. It wasn’t a total wash.” It’s her way of saying they never found a Sun Stone, without calling it a failure. “They’re rare, we were basically hoping to luck into one.”

Victor has been treated to the same greeting as you, but has not fared so well against Hustle’s weight, nor against the damp slobber soaking his chest ruff. After Darcie helps him out from under the goon kisses, she shakes his hand. Or, the equivalent. His wingtip grasps her pincer. “We found some nice things though,” she picks up where Spring left off. “Fifty Poke, an Oran, and two Pechas.”

“Nothing exciting,” Spring dismisses the finds with a pessimistic wave of her hand. “Anyways, the little ear-buzzer show up yet?”

Still trying to smooth out his fur, Victor shakes his head. “No. We did finish drawing up plans, however.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Darce nudges in when he draws them from his bag to show.

>Michael Luck: Disadvantage (Great, Bad)

>Caesar Luck: (Great)

>Ester Luck: Disadvantage (Good, Bad)

It’s dark by the time the Mesprit Guild arrives. You sit beside the fire at the center of Gwen’s ‘neighborhood’ with Victor and Blackberry both asleep in your lap. Gwen retired to her hut an hour ago, and Spring opted to join her. Hustle is still sucking on the last of his supper, a Leppa Berry. You ended up roasting the juicy Pechas your team fished out of the dungeon, and spreading the softened Berries on some bread and root vegetables the other villagers brought around for a community meal. One bundle of Leppas topped it off. Now the Zigzagoon is flopped on his side, humping into his hindpaws.

“Restrained as always, I see,” Michael comments, starting you from nearly nodding off. Hustle spins around on the ground and flips right side up, only after about three attempts that knock dust into the air. Ester walks into he firelight, and the two tiny bugs on his shoulders leap away as a horny goon knocks the imp to the ground. Michael carries the tiny yellow Joltik to the ground in front of you.

“Hey,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “Here I was worried you, you’d beat me here, eh-hehe…”

“We ran into an old Lillipup that just wouldn’t stop talking,” Michael rolls his body in an exasperated motion. ”… I couldn’t work up the nerve to tell her to get lost, so we ended up going at her pace for a while and listening to her ramble about her grandchildren.” Though he’s not always the friendliest guy around, you can tell Michael is tired out after his long day as well.

“Should we talk shop in the morning? Y-you can stay with us,” you offer. Michael looks over his shoulder at Hustle, who has now transferred the Leppa into Ester’s mouth in the midst of a particularly vigorous licking.

“Caesar and I can find a nook or two somewhere, I’m sure,” he politely declines.

Leaving the two friends to their revelry with Darce there to chaperone, you help Victor and Blackberry into the hut and curl up next to Gwen and Spring, who are entangled in a sprawled hug. Time starts to lose meaning by the time you feel another hard body trying to find a comfortable place to slot itself in the dark. Darcie whispers good night somewhere to your left.

Tomorrow, things will settle into a steadier pace of work around the village getting ready to open your resort. In between conferences with Michael’s design team and gathering materials for some huts you intend to build yourself, you’ll have time for three activities in your own time. Blackberry will probably follow you around like a lost puppy wherever you go.

You could delve into someone’s unconscious tonight, but you will be tired the next day and have time for one less activity.

Mamachomp won’t arrive for another day yet, if she’s on schedule.

>>Night Action

>Call for Hoopa (he will answer two questions. meeting him will not tire you tomorrow, but will preclude another sleep action)

>Booty call Hoopa (as above, but he will only answer one question)

>Follow the trail of eggshells

>Follow the trail of blood

>Follow the trail of sunlight (it will fade after tonight, but not forever)

>Follow the trail of smoke

>Go to the city at the underside of the world (investigate the moon goblet, the burning heart, or the palace of walls and locks)

>>Day Actions

>Check on Neha and formally ask permission about the building project

>See Amor about mailing out advertisements (you may also send letters to anyone you wish)

>Hang out with the Mesprit Guild

>Join Gwen and Spring setting up an obstacle course for training the newbies

>Join Victor and his boyfriend at their book club

>Join Darcie picking Berries on the plateau

>Leave Blackberry to hang out with Hustle so you can have some space (does not cost an action. they will be unavailable for adventuring today)

>Take Hustle and Blackberry with you and delve into Great Sunshine Field to look for a Sun Stone (2 actions, you might also find other valuables)

>Scout for a hot spring location

>Booty call someone (choose who)

Chapter Text

>Night: Booty Call Hoopa

>Day: Check on Neha, Hot Spring Search, Booty Call Victor

Though curiosity drifts across your subconscious, pulling you towards the trails that promise as many questions as answers, now is not the time. The waking world demands too much now, far too much to do, and you cannot afford to wear yourself out in the dreaming world. When you at last succumb to the darkness and sleep comes fully, your intent is aimed certainly at Hoopa.

You find the connection comes easily. That colorful, dreamless place awaits, just above the wriggling hive of thoughts and memories inside your head.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Supported, Lucid Dreaming, Fatigue (8, 5/8)

Were you any less experienced in these shifts of consciousness, you would have missed it while getting your bearings. The split-second shift in Hoopa’s demeanor as you arrive- pensive, nervous eyes staring into the kaleidoscope of nothing just before he settles into his confident sway through the air. “I heard you thinking about me, Murry. And wow,” he purses his lips, skating through the air around you as if he were on a well-oiled merry-go-round. “I can feel the stress coming off of you. Still having those troubled dreams?” Worry settles into his eyes, and they suddenly look far more tired than they did before. “Did you… come loose again?”

“No, I’m-” you start to shake your head, then pause. “Well, I d-didn’t come loose or, I mean, it’s related to that but I’m okay.” When he opens his mouth to say more, you raise a hand- a claw. He pauses. “Before we get into any of- of that, could we just… relax? Together?” the question comes out awkwardly, hesitantly. How does one go about booty calling a deity? Even one as informal as your patron. Are you overstepping?

>Murdoch Charm: Supported, Cunning Linguist, Initiated Kiss, Moment of Vulnerability, Fatigue, Very Difficult (12/12)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Supported, Moment of Vulnerability, Fatigue, Difficult (5, 13/8)

He draws nearer, setting his mitten-like hands on your shoulders, and rubs them. Even though this place isn’t quite real, the feeling certainly are. Tensions you built up during the crisis moments of today start to give way under skilled ‘fingers’. There’s certainly more control there than mittens would suggest. Like every surface is his to finely mold as he pleases.

The magic touch isn’t on yet, but your arousal is easily teased out with just the normal intimate touching.

Despite his forwardness in the past, something is giving Hoopa pause. There’s so much going on between those horns that he forgets to keep up his smile, clearly analyzing your face as much as you are, naturally probing one another for information.

Is he overstepping? Is he letting himself get too attached? For all the difference in years that stretches between the span of your life experience and his, the worries that plague him and the worries that plague you boil down to the same chemical components. It's all want in the end.

It’s not the sex that makes him hesitate. It is everything around it. Fooling around is so much easier when there is no emotional connection. When they are a game piece, and he the player.

You feel like something else to him now. Something worth fearing for. The word protégé comes to mind.

As the thoughts slither like whispers in your ear, you notice Hoopa’s brow shift and furrow. Then, relax. “I could help you blow off some steam,” it may have been a minute between your question and his answer, though his hands spoke plenty of the temptation.

A playful grin finds its way back onto Hoopa’s face. His own internal calculus has concluded, and this time his expression is a genuine one. Psychic force cradles you from behind, and Hoopa’s hands trail down your body. You find yourself lounging in an invisible chair, as soft as air. When his thumb slides around the slit at the base of your half-chub, he suddenly jams it into the space between your walls and shaft, turning his touch up to full.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Thief King’s Fingers+, Fatigue (15, 3/12)

Your legs kick, your claws grasp at the air, and your tail thrashes. The rest of your length shoots out like a missile, poking Hoopa in the cheek. He barely has time to flick it into his mouth with a subtle movement of thumb and… wrist?

A quick shot lets loose into his mouth the moment he cups his lips around the tip. A twitch pulls you out of his mouth and sends a streak along his cheek to compliment the trail of pre already decorating it, then a couple staggered half-ropes dribble into the void.

“Ah, sorry,” you mutter, reaching down to wipe the cum from Hoopa’s cheek. He lets you, then takes your wrist in his hand and suckles your claws, cleaning the pearly liquid from each one in turn. Nervously, you let Hoopa indulge in his oral fixation. And possible foot thing. Finger thing? Your foreclaws are kind of both.

He smacks his lips and releases your wrist. “What for? That was supposed to ease your tension,” he extracts his thumb from your slit and drags it up the underside of your chin.

“Just,” unable to help yourself, you avert your eyes. All the progress, and yet the same insecurities still gnaw at you. “I go asking y- you for a booty call. And then I go barely lasting, like, ten seconds.”

A palm slaps your tail’s flank and squeezes. “Don’t be so modest, that was five at most!” he jokes back. “’Sides. You’re gonna return the favor, ain’tcha, Murry?” with a wink, the trickster spins around in the air. His own modest shaft pokes out of a bumpy purple slit on his body’s underside. It dangles above your snout, the scent of another’s arousal exciting your Salandit brain. Like everything else here, it feels vividly real.

Catching Hoopa’s meaning, you caress the edges of his slit with your fingers, letting them feed his own sensory buzz back into him. When you take it into your mouth, the efforts are rewarded with a shudder and a flavorful dollop that leaks out onto your tongue. You’re not surprised when Hoopa leans in and stretches your tailhole open with mitt and thumb, shoving his tongue inside.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported, Fatigue, Round 2 (9, 4/4)

>Hoopa Lewd: Advantage, Thief King’s Fingers, Oral, Rimming, Cunning Linguist (7, 18/18)

Suckling on the length of meat, your stamina is outmatched. You can feel Hoopa clench multiple times and hold himself back from going over the edge, while your erection has already struggled its way back up. The ache of overstimulation helps you keep from going off a second time from the tongue-fucking he’s giving you.

Recognizing your struggle, Hoopa pulls back, a string of saliva drawn between his tongue and your hole. He flicks it off, and leans against the air beside him, resting his head in his hand. Wearing a controlled smirk, he watches you go. “I’ll go in again once I’m getting close. You’ve gotten pretty good with that tongue-work, Murry.”

>Hoopa Lewd: Advantage, Thief King’s Fingers, Oral, Rimming, Edging (Giving), Cunning Linguist (7, 17/20)

Every once in a while, your tired erection tries to scoot back into its cave, but a subtle drag of Hoopa’s touch across your side or tail sends new pulses of pleasure into it, never quite throwing it over the edge. When rolling your tongue over the thief’s rod gets old, you pull it out of your mouth and stuff your snout against his rear. With a claw wrapped around his slobbery length, you rapidly tug him towards a climax. Hoopa presses back against the tip of your snout, offering clear feedback that he likes what you’re doing.

When you start to feel him clench up around your reptilian tongue, you also feel metal ring slide over your dick. Suddenly, Hoopa jabs a readied thumb up your lubricated rear.

>Murdoch Lewd: Diadvantage, Supported, Fatigue, Round 2, Edging, Thief King’s Fingers+ (4, 10/12)

In the moment Hoopa’s orgasm launches across your chest, his touch shoots up in potency. A jolt shoots straight through your lower guts. Your prostate and internal testes immediately return fire with a stringy second load through the portal ring around your dick, wherever Hoopa is sending it.

Hoopa allows you to retreat inside your slit this time, but he rides out his own climax, grinding against your face as he draws it out, until a final dribble of his cum leaks onto your throat.

“Ah!” Gliding down next to you, Hoopa settles on another invisible barrier with a sigh. He slaps your belly a couple of times, making a wet sound against his own fluids pooled there. “Feeling better?”

“Mhm. I’ve been really pent up ever since…” you trail off, not sure about bringing Blackberry up yet. It’s not that you don’t trust Hoopa at this point, it’s just that you’ve been piling a whole lot on his plate. “Just, been busy with some stuff.”

“I’ll bet,” the way he says it suggests he wants to say more. You turn your head so one of your eyes is taking him in, lounging thoughtfully with his cheek bundled in his palm. The way it squishes his face makes it difficult to read, but his eyes are focused on you.

“Do I uh, have something on my face?”

The hand from your belly brushes along your cheek, leaving plenty more than he might have wiped away. “Just a little jizz.”

With a small laugh, you wipe the trail of your pre from his, leaving a dampness from your slobbery claws in its place. “Y-you too. I can really feel it too. This dream is so vivid.”

“You might need a bath in the morning. Nocturnal emissions,” Hoopa turns to lie on his back and stretches. When he slumps back down, he stares up at the void of colors. Lying with empty space in the air doesn’t sit right with him, and he abruptly shifts into business mode. “I talked to the person I thought might be involved with what’s going on.”

“Involved? I thought you just meant, like- they would know something?”

A grimace stretches across his face. “Yeah. I got in my own head, jumped to some wrong conclusions, and accused her of messing with your head. She’s got a real grudge against King, so I thought she was trying to give you an under the table edge with that dream about his past.” One of Hoopa’s cheeks balloons out, and he blows out a puff of air. “I think she was more insulted that I thought she would’ve messed up your head like some kind of sloppy rookie.”

It sounds like someone he knows. “Am I going to find out who this she is?”

>Murdoch Charm: Supported, Initiated Kiss, Moment of Vulnerability (9/4)

Hoopa closes his eyes. “I guess it’s not like she actually has a player in the game right now.” Lifting off from the barrier-bed, Hoopa waves his hands. The layers of slimy and gradually drying cum glow and then separate from his skin. He condenses them into a ball and tosses them through a small portal to be someone else’s problem. “She’s named Cresselia. I wouldn’t call us close friends, but we’ve bonded over complaining about King.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Foreign Lore, Obscure Deity (11, 20/14)

Cresselia.

In Sinnoh, they worship a lot of legendary deities and guardians whose priests and priestesses have a large part to play in the running of the region. Each temple or sect is less influential than a major church, with some better known outside of the borders than others. Cresselia is a name that usually makes its way out through hippy crystal-peddlers and dream-journal enthusiasts. You happened to take an elective in Sinnohan theology in college, which is where you came across the name.

According to what you’ve read, Cresselia is associated with night, and both the crescent and full moon. The new moon is considered to be an ill omen. Her faith believes her to be a protector that guards dreamers from nightmares, and that she brings good dreams to those that live good lives. The usual follow the tenets of our faith and you’ll get a reward routine.

Unovan scientists posit that she may have a connection to the Dreamworld that Professor Fennel has been studying. You never went much further down that wiki rabbit hole, though.

You can see why Hoopa thought she had something to do with this.

>Murdoch has recalled the Sinnohan Theology skill

After processing some of the implications, you prod Hoopa to keep going. “So… did she have something to do with this? Or uh, no you said- does she know who did?”

“She gave me the me treatment. Got sketchy and said she’d look into it,” your patron shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I believe her when she says she didn’t do it or know about it. Hopefully she’ll dig up something useful.” Silence falls again. You start to doze and drift, while Hoopa hovers hesitantly, halfway between lying back down and not.

With an abrupt shift in demeanor, he raises one hand. “Alright. Guess that’s enough pillow talk, you should go get cleaned up.” Before you can protest, he snaps his mitt.

You wake up in the dim early morning to find that you were the someone else. The ball of cum Hoopa tossed out has been splattered across your stomach right where it had been in the dream, and your first ejaculation spread a slurry across your thigh and Gwen’s belly.

It’s not just the outside, either. You feel a warm wetness inside of your ass.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (10, 13/10)

That’s what he did with the portal. Hoopa made you cum in your own ass! How did you even get dream cum inside your ass?

It is not the first substance to follow you here from a dream.

An eerie realization. You shake it off.

Hoopa probably thought leaving you coated in and filled with your own nocturnal emissions would be funny. What other fey whimsy might you find yourself dealing with now that he’s letting himself cross lines with you?

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Gwen Expert (11, 13/8)

Like a dutiful partner, you lick Gwen’s thin stomach fur clean before you slip away. Expertly, you avoid teasing her sensitive spots and disturbing her sleep.

On the way out of the slumber party pile you have to step over a snoring Hustle, who is entangled with Ester in the flap of the tent. Beyond him, you tiptoe your way through the dozing village towards the river. There are some villagers up and about already getting an early start on gardening, or that Tyrunt setting up his stoneworking stations. None of them take particular notice of your walk of shame.

Even in the stretched hours of the morning before the sun peeks over the cliffsides of the footprint, the river- or stream, it’s not quite wide or powerful enough to be a river- is not bone-freezing cold. The same geothermal activity that bubbles up the hotsprings keeps the water in the pleasant range of cool, but not too cold. The way it slides out of one cliffside and into the other suggests it’s part of some underground waterway, touching the surface here before carrying on in its journey.

Being caught in a current near the edge and dragged underground would be horrifying. From what you’ve heard though, part of Hoopa’s job in the background is rescuing anyone who gets permanently stuck like that.

A few minutes of washing later, and you look as clean and presentable as a Salandit can look.

By the time anyone else starts to stir, you’ve got a cooking fire going and a pot of water heating- there are a simple communal pot and wooden spoon near the fire pit. Rather than dip into your Berry supply, you decide to test out some of your oats. They’re hard and crunchy, and need to be soaked in hot water to get them soft enough to eat. There won’t be much taste on their own, but you still have a jar of cinnamon to flavor them with.

Gwen is the first one up. Her soft feet silently bring her into a close nuzzle against your side while you stir. “Mm, morning. You smell.”

“Sorry.”

“Smells good. You have good dreams?”

“Pretty good.”

Your other hand finds its way around her neck, and scratches at the underside of her chin. Though it was only for a day or two, you missed getting to hold her close without a thorny blade of grass in between. You could say so, but there’s no point. She already knows. She knows by the way you lean into her, and the feeling of your claws in her fur. It’s the kind of settled, quiet companionship Hoopa fled from whenever it started to take root. Nothing important left to say, just a moment of calm together in the midst of the storm of life.

The others come out slowly. Your guildmates and friends, and the neighbors. Nuts and pieces of fruit are deposited into the mixture of oats. The Kabutops you’ve seen around brings some oats of her own. She joins you tending to the fire. Bogdan, the Tyrunt, has finished his preparations for the day and brings some stone bowls. Quickly, two filling communal pots of oatmeal are prepared and distributed. It was not a planned event. It just happened, like the seeds of a hundred different plant species coming together on the wind and turning into a forest.

At some point Blackberry is seated beside you, as you help him drink some oatmeal from a bowl. No hands. Needed some help. It’s too hot at first, so you blow on it to help it cool. Gwen manages to watch with something other than hostility.

Spring and Bogdan are chatting in the background somewhere. You’re not sure what exactly about. Rock climbing? Sounds like it. Darcie and the Kabutops are introducing themselves. You catch a name: Usagi. They commiserate about handling tools using blades.

It is a good morning.

Time comes for everyone to go their own way. Spring and Gwen go to set up a training field for the Guild to exercise and practice their mobility. Darcie confers briefly with Victor about the local plantlife, before ascending to the plateau in search of interesting Berries she can gather seeds from. Victor smiles and gives you a hug, letting you know he’ll be in his little library if you need him.

When you start walking towards Neha’s shrine, you have Blackberry waddling several paces behind you, and Hustle trotting beside. “What’s the… plan to… today, ‘doc?” the Zigzagoon asks, licking at some oats still stuck to the fur at the sides of his face between words.

“Need to check if Neha’s- if she’s okay. Get permission for, well, the building we’re going to do. And,” you glance over your shoulder at the waddling, black-eyed fruit. “Ask what the heck she did.”

If Hustle was at any point aware of what Blackberry is, he certainly doesn’t remember. “Oh yeah. Where’d we get the new guy? Got some funny eyes there, all watering with oily stuff like hoo boy- not that I’m judging, some people are just weird to other people you know? But they’re still cool with me.” Bounding back, Hustle circles Blackberry, mildly startling the Cherubi. “What’s your name, huh? Are you a Guild member too? It’s nice we have a Grass type now, Darce likes Berries and stuff and you’re kind of like a Berry so- Oh!” The goon’s ears perk up as his brain rubs two neurons it had forgotten about together. “Where did the little grass guy go, ‘doc? The one always crawling all over you?”

>Hustle Intelligence: Disadvantage, Snooping, Stupid (10, 20/10)

A sudden silence. You stop and look back to see Hustle staring into space with his tongue sucked back into his mouth, eyes wide in a moment of revelation. Blackberry has also turned to stare, wearing a similar dumbfounded expression with zero thought behind his eyes. “Oooh,” Hustle breathes out slowly. “Oh!” He starts bouncing in place, and lunges in to lick Blackberry’s face between exclamations of joy. “You’re the little plant guy! You evolved! Congratulations!”

“Ssomething like that,” you hiss out. “I uh, named him Blackberry for now. I don’t think he- he can’t really speak, so far.”

“Nice to meet you official-like, Blackberry! I’m Hustle!” Reaching up, he pinches one of Blackberry’s leaves between two pawpads and wiggles it up and down in an imitation of a handshake. “Welcome to the team!”

“He’s…” on second thought, you decide not to rain on any parades right now. Official member or not, Blackberry’s probably going to be staying with the Guild, so it’s good if he feels welcome. “Yeah.”

The two of them accompany you into the shrine, where Neha is awake and drinking from a wooden bowl of Oran juice. You can tell by the mild, inoffensive smell. The Voltorb from the other day is watching over her, and looks up at you with worried eyes. “Can this wait? She needs her rest…”

“No, it is alright. At ease, Codder,” Neha sets down her bowl. “Thank you for your concern, but… we do have unfinished business. Could you leave us for a few minutes?” Hesitantly, the Voltorb rolls his way out. Taking a long breath, Neha nods her shell towards you. “The strange little one emerged well enough, I see. Though the true nature shows through more than I would have liked.”

Hustle sits down beside you. He has the mental wherewithal to pay attention and stay quiet when wise old elders are speaking. Must have grandmother experience. “What were you t-trying to do, exactly?” you ask.

Half-lidded eyes look down at their reflection in the Berry juice. “There are certain things that should not be allowed to exist in this world. Anomalies. So the rules hold. I believe this creature is one of those, of which we have been warned. But Ho-Oh has guided me always to a different rule: that all life is precious and to be cherished.” A chill of uneasiness runs down your spine. Not allowed to exist? “I used the gift I was given to grant the little one reincarnation. To encase its… soul, or the likeness of a soul that has formed around the tiny piece of yours’. With a living Pokemon body. In time, this Blackberry of yours’ may learn enough control to hide more effectively in this shell.”

“And if- if he doesn’t?”

“Then, near the champion of a Legendary patron is the last place that this one should be,” the priestess warns. “There will be eyes upon you, now and again. Those who would disagree with my belief. Those who would believe that they are keeping you safe, by getting rid of it.” She doesn’t say they would be mistaken.

“Anomaly,” you repeat. You don’t imagine she’s at liberty to tell you more.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Perceived Before (1, 7/6)

The other day, you felt worry from her. For Gwen. The chill grows deeper. “Is… is Gwen an anomaly?”

Neha is quiet. She blinks twice. “Your patron and I do not know if she would be deemed dangerous. She is something we should have reported. We have not. No one will know the difference to look at her, not like your Blackberry.” But if Blackberry is found out, it could bring closer scrutiny. That’s why she was worried for Gwen. “None of what we say here should leave this tent.” She looks worriedly at Hustle’s blank expression.

While he doesn’t seem to have been following much, he sucks in his tongue and assures, “I heard something about Gwen and don’t talk about it.” Raising a paw, he slaps it onto his snout. “Consider my lips glued shut!”

“I…” you swallow down the mounting nerves. Your veins are on fire.

>Fear of Loss has reached Potency 9

Something inside of you feels like a pot near to boiling over. Or bursting like a canister under pressure. It has been swelling. Building up ever since it woke up with that intrusion. Now that it reacts to something, a perceived threat- the crude oil bubbles inside of you, threatening to combust at a spark. Violent protective impulse twitches in your claws, barely restrained aggression that you know is yours’ but feels like it could spiral far out of your control.

They would burn first. They will be given reason to fear.

Clutching your roiling gut, you grimace. “Are you alright?” the Omanyte’s gentle voice asks with concern.

No.

“Yeah.” You can’t keep talking about this. Dwelling on it is only making it worse. Business. Move on the business. You take a few deep breaths. “Just nerves. So uh, we were hoping to build a Guild business here. A resort- that is, a place people can go or come to, to relax. With massage, and food, and music and hot springs and stuff… uh, eventually. I wanted to build on the other side of the village, on the unused cliff wall. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much hassle for everyone?” Something else to focus your thoughts on causes the churning to die down. It’s deceptively calm, now. You would never notice how close it is to erupting out of you, if not for something setting it off.

“That would be no trouble at all, dear,” Neha assures you. “So long as the guests treat our village with respect.”

“Great,” you nod your head, eager to get out of here and go isolate yourself looking for some hot springs. You need to cool off. Before you leave, Neha holds up a contemplative tentacle, motioning you back. “… Yeah?”

“I am getting old,” she announces the obvious. “I am realizing now that I really must prepare a successor. You are our village’s Guild… your say holds weight. If you find the time, I would like you to help me assess those who may be suitable... and steel their heart, if they are uncertain.”

“Oh, um,” you nod. “I’ll think about it. Sure.”

With the business handled, you step out of the tent with Hustle and Blackberry behind you. The Voltorb, Codder, was staying a respectful distance away- you’re thankful he wasn’t eavesdropping on any of that. He rolls back inside to dote on the old shrine maiden.

You feel like you could puke. You’re afraid off what could come out.

It’s time to scout locations for a hot spring. Gods, you could use a hot spring to relax in right now.

>Explore the plateaus and valleys around Stepstone village for unused hot springs.

>A Kabutops should be in tune with earth and water. See if Usagi can help you dowse for underground water sources near the building site.

Chapter Text

For all the time you’ve been here, so little has been spent in your new home. If you intend to become a part of the community- of its leadership- you have lost ground to make up. Nodding to yourself, you struggle to quell the bubbling anxiety. “I don’t disagree. J-just keep it together…” you mutter to yourself.

>Murdoch Charm: Lucid Dreaming, Dealmaking, Blackberry (17/4)

Your- your you gradually settles down. The force threatening to burst free is no longer pressuring the insides of your soul, but you still feel the weight- you’re aware of it now. How heavy and well-fed it has grown.

Hustle’s ears flick and he looks over, but you force a smile at him. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.” Swallowing, you point back towards the chain of huts that rings the center of the village. “Let’s go meet that Kabutops. Maybe she can- she can help us find a hot spring.”

“Sure!” bounding ahead lasts Hustle all of five strides before he falls naturally back to your side, huffing and puffing from the effort of his own excitement. You take a more leisurely pace, keeping a hand on Blackberry’s side and helping him keep up.

You find Usagi weeding the village’s gardens. One could call them a farm, if they were just a little more dense, a little more wide. They fall short, but only just. Using her long blades, she digs into the soil and extracts unwanted plants, piling them in a bucket. Working with her is a Cranidos, who squints at the bucket once in a while to check what was thrown inside.

“Hey,” raising a claw, you wave. Usagi looks up and raises her blade, but practice reminds her not to wave it in the air.

“You’re from this morning,” she recognizes, scraping some dirt from her blades with a shing that bounces around your ear tunnels and sets your frills on edge. “The new Guild leader, right? You’ve been busy. Barely seen you here.”

“Oh yeah, it’s uh, been non-stop, eheh,” nervously, you chew at the end of one of your claws. “It’s… good to be back home. It’s good that it feels like home, even though I ah, haven’t b-been here all that much.”

The two locals take a break from their work and sit down. Judging by the Cranidos’ panting, he was close to taking a break anyways. Hustle flops down beside him. “Ah! Are you feeling the burn, bud? Working those muscles?” he prods one of the fossil’s spindly arms. “I’m Hustle! Nice to meet’cha!”

“Yoshiro,” the Cranidos shakes Hustle’s paw. “The rocks do most of the work! They’re great for getting rid of the root-sprouters.”

You take note of the lumpy ground. Sharp stones from below have been used to dig up the weeds, like a reverse garden claw jutting up from below. “You seemed like you wanted to talk?” Usagi asks, bringing your attention back to her.

“Yeah. I-” a shape bumps into your side as Blackberry stuffs himself under your arm. You pat the Cherubi’s side. “I was uh, wondering if you could help me dowse for underground water sources. For the- over there,” you point across the village at the back wall. “I’m making a resort kind of thing, and having a hot spring r-right on site would be great.”

“I could. But I think you’d have to repay me?” Usagi taps the side of her head with a blade, sounding uncertain.

Your tail sways back and forth in the dirt thoughtfully, “I thought the village did uh, communal money stuff mostly?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t have to be money, just a mutual thing. I guess it could be a favor.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage (4, 2/10)

Still fuzzy from the early morning, you rub your eyes and slowly ask, “I mean, w- not that I can’t or… won’t but, why?”

Yoshiro cuts in to explain more clearly when Usagi stops to think about how to put it. “We were part of a Guild ourselves, last time they came around,” he explains, and you perk up. Hustle looks more attentive too.

“Really? I’ve never heard of you! Er, what Guild were you with?” the goon cocks his head to the side.

“Nobody said anything to me either,” you add, a new curiosity surfacing. “Is… there another h- former human here?”

Mouthparts clicking together- like a click of the tongue- Usagi shakes her head again. “After we lost Aelita decided to go home.” Resting her blades on the ground behind her for balance, the Kabutops leans back in the grass. Their curved side allows her to shift back and forth, like a rocking chair. “We were Entei’s Guild.”

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Johtoan (11, 6/8)

As one of Ho-Oh’s servants, you can see why Entei would choose this place to field a Guild. You know that the sacred beast of fire is associated with maintaining the natural fire cycle, and regulating the geothermal activity in Johto. You’ve never heard of them being very playful or fond of humans though- you’re just thankful they aren’t as hostile as the Swords in Unova. “Wow, I uh- I never really took Entei for the type to do this kind of…” you roll a claw in the air, “Thing.”

“Yeah. I mean, I never met him, but this was his first time.”

“But, but,” tapping his chin with a paw, Hustle slaps his fluffy tail against the ground. “A new Guild would be really special news! How come you weren’t more famous?”

Fiddling with a stalk of grass between his claws, Yoshiro shrugs. “There was this big rush to try and get to the bottom of Zero Isle that competition. We didn’t participate in it though. So we got overshadowed by all of the other Guilds vying for a new record.” You assume that record was claimed by Mew’s Guild, the previous winners.

“Aelita was really afraid of the ocean,” Usagi chimes in.

“Ending up as a Slugma didn’t help her much,” the Cranidos chuckles. “Honestly, we mostly stayed around here. Aelita really loved the village and the atmosphere.” He can see the question in your eyes. Why did she decide to return home? “It wasn’t easy to go back, but she had a daughter in your world. I don’t have any kids, but I think that’s a pretty good reason.”

“I miss her, I hope she’s doing good,” rolling back to her feet, Usagi clacks her blades together. “So I can help you look for a water source but you need to do me a favor first, or something so it’s a… trade! Not help! Uk,” looking at a loss, she glances around. Nothing is coming to mind that she needs help with.

You could make a suggestion.

>Pay her in food (suggest what to make with what you have)

>Help her with weeding (manual labor)

>Slut up and do what those blades can’t~ (sexual favors)

Chapter Text

Following the Kabutops’ lead, you push up to your hind legs using your tail. It’s becoming natural to move around with it, now. You barely need to think about it. “Well, it’s a village, right? We work together on things. Like, like this,” claws open, you motion at the stubborn weeds. “How about it?”

“That sounds fair. You help us with this work, we help you with your work,” punctuating her words by thrusting a blade into the ground, Usagi pries up another sample. You lean down and grab one of the ones at your feet, peeling back the leaves. It’s got a thorny stem, but your scales are much less sensitive to their pricks than your skin was. The claws are better for digging, too. Where you would have needed a tool to dig out the roots, you burrow into the ground and pry them free without much trouble, depositing the prize into the bucket.

“A lot of them are edible,” the Cranidos drops another two in there on top of your contribution. “I’ll pick through them later. Make a good addition to dinner tonight.”

>Murdoch Fitness: (14/10)

>Hustle Fitness: Disadvantage (14, 1/10)

>Blackberry Power: Advantage (14, 10/10)

Squatting is nothing to your haunches. They are, if anything, made for this stance. You find the physical work of pulling weeds easier than it ever was as a man. Relaxing, even. Something simple and untaxing, but hands-on enough to keep your mind from wandering too far down dark alleys.  Even the blades of grass brushing up against your bare lower regions is pleasant, in its own way. Any evidence is hidden by your dutiful kilt.

The same could not be said about Hustle. Far from living up to his name, his brute force strategy of tugging the weeds up with his mouth fails to unearth the roots, forcing him to dig. Thorny stems give his gums unfortunate flashbacks, and you need to pause now and then to help him. Eventually he flops over onto his side and gives up.

Beside Hustle, Blackberry soaks in the light of the midday sun above. The roots of nearby weeds slowly work their way up out of the ground, and they fall over, waiting for the goon to work up enough will and energy to drag them to the bucket for his armless assistant.

Any time you catch Usagi’s eye, you flash her a smile, and occasionally a wink. It’s impossible to tell on her alien expression how she’s taking the tiny attempts at testing the waters.

When the area is clear, Yoshiro places some severed stems and flowers in your claws, passing more mangled plant parts to the others gathered around. Hustle barely needs to acknowledge them before stuffing them down his throat. “Lunch,” the thorny-headed lizard says, taking a seat in the small circle that has formed. Tentatively, Blackberry tries eating one of the dandelion flowers he’d been given, expression betraying neither fondness nor disgust.

You pop one in your mouth. You’ve eaten things like this before, when camping. Foraging for things here and there was part of the experience. Could do with some seasoning, maybe fry them up in some oil. “We got this area done pretty fast with all the help,” brightly, Usagi chirps and sits down next to you. Any lingering notions that she might be offput by your winking are banished. “That means we have time to help with your thing now.”

With a leer off to the side, you snicker to yourself, “My thing usually doesn’t need a- a lot of help.” Usagi’s broad head cocks to the side, and you start to open your mouth to brush it off as a joke, but she cuts you off.

“Is that so?” her sharp mouthparts rattle against each other in a laugh of her own. “That can be nice! Perfect for little stolen moments between work.”

“Ehehe,” a little caught off-guard by her flirtatious suggestion, you twiddle your claws together. “For, uh, longer sessions I usually use my fingers. I’m planning on starting a massage service at the resort, actually, if you two uh, want to come sometime. Unwind a-and relax some of those sore muscles, after work.”

“Sounds like a nice place to have around,” Yoshiro comments.

Usagi leans her head back and looks up at the cliffs. “I’ll definitely take you up on that! But we shouldn’t get too distracted right now. It’s my turn to help.” Sliding a selection of greens down her blade into her mouth, she rapidly eviscerates them. “Let’s get started!”

It turns out, there’s not a lot of let’s involved. You follow Usagi around while she does her thing around the cliff wall, leaning down and scratching at the ground, listening with the side of her head as if she were checking for structures inside of a wall.

>Usagi Power: Advantage, Landscaping (6, 11/10)

>Murdoch Luck: Advantage (Bad, Neutral)

A search that brings her from one side to the other. You start to feel disappointed and let down. If there was something to find, she’d probably have found it by now. Standing up at the other edge of your ‘property,’ Usagi stretches her back, plates scraping against one another. “I found water! There’s an underground source to tap into. Just not a hot spring.” A few loping strides brings her back to you. She assesses you with a swivel of her head. “You could always draw water and heat it up. You are a Fire type after all!” It’s true, and it would save you the trouble of drawing water for cooking from the stream, but it wouldn’t be as tempting an attraction as a natural hot spring.

“It- it’s still good to know,” you try to hide any disappointment in your voice. “Thanks for your help, Usagi!”

“Anytime.” Then, she quickly adds, “As long as we trade for it.”

A brief farewell, and you part ways.

You regroup with Gwen, Spring and Darcie for dinner time.

>Darcie Intelligence: Advantage, Gardening, Diligence (6, 8/6)

Darcie brought back several Razz Berries. Their juices have a bite to them, so you and the other villages add them to a salad Yoshiro puts together from the results of your weeding. The drizzle gives flavor to the blander ingredients.

“Hrf,” grumbling, Gwen forces down another bite. The bitter greens don’t seem to agree with her all that much. Her coat is disheveled, and you brush some dirt from it. You can see from here the progress she and Spring have made on the obstacle course today, a series of hills and ditches.

“Do you, uh, want a Pecha?” you offer, leaning back in preparation to go get her one from the hut.

“Mn, no,” she stops you. “Is rude not to finish food.” Pulling back, you slump into your seat and reach under her chin. There’s no resistance as you pull her into a kiss, turning your head and slotting your mouths together. Sloppily, you lick and curl around each other’s teeth.

>Murdoch Power: Sweet Scent+ (17/10)

When you pull away, with a gentle exhale, you release a puff of sweet breath onto her tongue. Gwen closes her eyes and licks her mouth, salivating at the tantalizing taste. Seconds later you find yourself on the ground, her on top of you, mouths together as she savors the rescue to her taste buds.

You overhear Usagi talking with Spring somewhere outside of your fur-blocked field of view. “You two got a lot done over there. And you don’t even have any special digging powers.”

“Just good old fashioned elbow grease. I saw Murdoch helping pick veggies?”

“Weeds,” Yoshiro comments. “But waste not, want not!”

“Yeah, they taste kind of wild. What you really need is some oil, fry them up over the fire. Dad and I used to go hiking out here and forage our own food.” You too. The nostalgic memories bubble up in your chest.

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Lucid Dreamer, Fear of Loss 9 (8/15)

For the first time, creeping tendrils of homesickness worm their way up through your guts. With a claw, you reach up and scratch Gwen behind the ear, gently urging her face back from your mouth. When you clear her snout, you cough and let your head flop to the side, fighting back nausea. “Sorry. S-sorry, just.”

Gwen takes a couple of steps back and sits down in front of you. “Something in my breath?” She paws at the saliva running down the side of her mouth.

“No. Your breath smells fine,” sniffing, you sit up. “Just feeling a little homesick is all. I- I used to go camping too, usually just me, but uh, sometimes with my dad.” When he wasn’t too busy or depressed.

“Sorry if I brought up anything,” Spring lolls her head to the side, nibbling on a leaf.

“It’s okay.”

After dinner, you break off from the rest of the Guild to climb the cliffside trail and visit Victor. The fresh, cool valley air away from the fire helps clear your head. Beneath you, the village is a chasm of ember-peppered darkness beneath the lit rim of the footprint, the sun already dipped beneath its edge. It isn’t as dark as it seems from up here, it’s the contrast that makes all the difference.

The cave is quiet. Victor’s little library, its shelves full of tidbits of knowledge and imagined tales. He and Boris, the Archen, are lying in a nest of cushions that has been brought in from elsewhere. Boris is reading one of Victor’s unfinished manuscripts, while Victor has fallen asleep in the crook of the snake-bird’s feathers.

No, not asleep. Not quite. The bat’s ears twitch, and he makes a humming sound. “Hey, Murdoch.”

“Y-you can tell it’s me?” Victor’s eyes are still drooping shut.

“Yeah, it’s the fabric,” they crack open, and he shifts. “How long have I been out?”

“An hour or so,” Boris sets the pages aside and looks up at you. The feathery tip of his tail softly flicks against the ground. “I remember you. You’re the one who was having fun in Vic’s head, right?”

“I-in my defense, it was pretty funny,” you say, walking over and sitting against the side of Victor’s stone desk. It would have been less funny if it hadn’t worked out, but the world works in mysterious ways. “Sorry for waking you. I can… come back another time?”

“No, no. I’m awake now,” with an unconvincing yawn and a stretch, of his wings, Victor causes you and Boris to flinch at the same time. “… Don’t just sit on the hard rocks, Murdoch. Come sit with us.”

The Archen’s head bobs to the side. “I don’t mind, if you were worried. Victor let me know how your Guild handles things.”

Accepting the invitation, you slide into the nest of pillows. “Are these filled w-with… your feathers?” They’re flat, not fluffy, but cushion the hard ground and retain a pleasant amount of heat. The ones still attached to Boris’ wings are much softer, and he stretches them to include you in the embrace beneath Victor.

“Had to do something useful with those molts,” Boris responds. “What brings you up?”

“Oh, just a while since I saw Victor, in person. I mean beside yesterday, w-we didn’t really talk. And I wanted to see how things were going, and,” you stop short of babbling about the more private matters of your glimpses into the Noibat’s dreams. Nightmares. “Well, I was um, maybe wondering if you two wanted to do a threesome thing? You know, how I h-handle things, heheh.”

Victor turns his head, looking for Boris’ thoughts.

“Ho-Oh gave me two for a reason,” the Archen replies with a playful wink. Or maybe he just blinked. You can only see one side of his face. “And I could do to get some blood pumping, my wing is falling asleep.”

“Whoops!” With some effort, Victor flails himself up into a sitting position, and you join him.

It seems like the boys are down for a booty call. What do you have in mind?

Chapter Text

Gently, you take Victor by the shoulders and guide him closer to Boris. He looks at you, with a flick of his ear, silently wondering what you have in mind. “So, why don’t the two of you just relax and make out for a bit first, and I’ll,” you gesture down with a claw, waggling it back and forth. “Get things prepped.”

“Oh, now you’re trying to embarrass me,” Boris jokes, sitting up so he and Victor and position themselves, propped and facing each other. He leans in and rubs his beak up Victor’s neck. “It’s not easy to do mouth things with a beak.” In spite of the feigned reluctance, the two lean in. Victor cups the side of Boris’ face and kisses the length of his  beak, culminating in an awkward dance of tongues halfway down. Boris’ is long and forked, more snake than bird, with great reach but clumsy motions that lead to Victor fellating it as it flicks in and out of his mouth more than anything.

While the boys are occupied, you drag a finger between Boris’ spread legs and let the magic touch drag out the bright red twins poking out of their dwelling. Victor gets your oral attention first. You close in on your pray, pressing your snout against his tiny sheath and snuffling the pleasant scent. Salandit neurons fire off, and your back radiates to life like the hot rocks of a sauna, releasing a pleasant aroma. The same neurons urge you forward, and you happily oblige them by upstaging Boris’ show with Victor’s dick. Your reptilian tongue, with much more practice and finesse, traces circles around the organ, lubricating it and teasing it out of its hidey-hole.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported (3, 6)

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage, Cunning Linguist, Sweet Scent (1, 7)

There’s a twitch from Victor’s leg, and he taps you lightly on the shoulder with his hindclaw. You ease up your assault, getting the impression that he’s close, only for the touch of cold air to set him off. In an ironic mirror of your first meeting with Gwen, it flicks violently, painting a pearl necklace around your snout and neck.

You hear Boris chuckle. “It’s alright. We won’t let a little something like that ruin our fun.” In a heavier whistle, you hear him whisper through his beak, “You’re so cute when you misfire.”

“G-guess you’re gonna like both of us then,” you say, licking up some of the bat sauce on your face. “Curious, um, what else do you like?” Good to get to know what makes him tick better while you get them ready. Them being the two long, floppy lengths now in front of your face. An intentional flex of muscle, and they flop up to poke you in the nose.

The Archen breaks away from the clumsy kisses to answer. Victor nuzzles his head into an embrace from Boris’ wing. “I enjoy pushing it.” In demonstration, his long tail slides under your belly and curls up to rub Victor’s retreating sheath with its rubbery underside. Please chirps bubble up from Boris’ throat as Victor gasps from the immediate post-orgasm stimulation.

“Hm,” you hum, taking one of his two ticks in your mouth and swirling your tongue around to slick it down. They’re smooth and flexible, but with your tongue you detect a rigid flare near the end intended to lodge them inside of their partner.

This time, you take care not to push him over the edge. A quick and efficient lubrication, leaving each noodle slippery and wet. For good measure, you give Victor’s hole some attention, leaning in to paint it with saliva.

>Murdoch Fitness: Salandit (5/8)

Part of you just wonders if you can, when you curl up and try to reach your own lower regions to lubricate yourself for what comes next. The potential is definitely there, but your snout is too long and your neck isn’t flexible enough. The position is anything but comfortable. Giving up on licking yourself, you settle for some spit and flop back onto the hay bed.

Grabbing one of the twins, you waggle it around. “Are you two ready for… for the uh, main course?” stretching out, you raise your leg up to show off in an attempt to look seductive. “You know, it would be a shame to leave one out. Why don’t we ride them together?”

You and Victor clamber up and help each other get into position, your claws on his shoulders and his wings on yours’. Together you can balance yourselves well. A consequence of the position puts you cheek to cheek. “I’m getting so pampered today,” Boris purrs. His talons flexibly reach up and lift his two dicks to wait for you. “I can only make them stiff by really sucking in my gut, so let me know when you two are ready.”

Bodies shifting together awkwardly at first, then fluidly, you feel Victor’s telepathy subtly picking up your intentions and synchronizing with them. Taking in a deep breath, Boris holds himself firm while you both work your way down onto him. Sliding down the shafts brings you together until Victor’s fuzzy balls press against your slit, his sensitive post-orgasm sheath rubbing against your dick with each simultaneous roll of your hips. Boris keeps his wings against your backs, shifting to find a place where he won’t be singed by your Salandit-patterned heat. His head lolls back.

>Boris Lewd: Sweet Scent, Overstimulation, Post-Orgasm Play (-1)

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported (9, 16)

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage, Round 2, Sweet Scent (6, 20)

The assault on Boris’ senses from the potent pheromones permeating the room leaves him struggling against the dual stimulation of two Pokemon riding his cocks in sync.  The frotting gyrations don’t need to do their work for long. It comes together in a perfect storm to drive him over the edge, and you feel the flare at the end of the shaft worming its way up your butt. It expands, catching the next time you try to pull up and tugging on him. Boris’ talons flinch and kick into the air. They precipitate a sudden swelling of warmth within your guts, and his flare holds most of the load firmly inside of you.

“Keep going,” he chirps between gasps. You reaffirm your grip on Victor’s shaky shoulders and continue to roll your hips. Boris’ orgasm is dragged out as long as possible, until his body gives out in its spasms and his wings fall down. Without support, your stance isn’t as strong and the assault begins to wind down.

Victor pulls you down all the way. Both of you press to the hilt, until Victor can lean comfortably in your arms and wrap his svelte belly against your crotch. His soft, velvety stomach fur rubs you up and down. His dick starts to achingly press out of its sheath, slick surface hot against your own.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Supported (4, 13)

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage, Round 2, Sweet Scent (7, 11)

>Boris Lewd: Round 2, Overstimulation, Post-Orgasm Play (6)

Your ejaculation spurts gobs of Salandit cum onto Victor’s chest, staining his fur off-white as it runs down between his fine hairs, then coating his struggling half-chub and pooling in his retracted sheath. He gasps with each motion. Tortured whistles escape from Boris’ throat as his erections are not allowed to deflate completely inside of the dual embrace. A ruined orgasm rocks his body, not reaching a true second climax. “Keep going,” he groans, denying any mercy. “Don’t stop until I beg.”

Most in control of the three of you at that moment, Victor hugs you to him, stabilizing your shuddering haunches. “He likes to see how far we can go.”

“W-what’s the safeword?”

“Bookmark.” Naturally.

>Murdoch Lewd: Disadvantage, Round 2, Supported (16, 13)

>Victor Lewd: Disadvantage, Round 2, Sweet Scent (17, 18)

>Boris Lewd: Round 2.5, Overstimulation, Post-Orgasm Play, Thief King’s Fingers (4)

Claws clutch at Boris’ chest, digging into his soft down and shooting pleasure into his abdomen. Mercilessly, the two off you drag every dribbling drop Boris can muster until his body finally gives out and the flares deflate, sliding back into the pit from whence they came. The moment your ride slides free, a warm pressure inside you starts to run out.

You slide onto the hay pile on Boris’ right, Victor on his right. Victor reaches up with a foot and rubs the Archen’s still-open slit. “Hey,” his draconic eyes look at you across the fossil bird’s chest. A telepathic nudge communicates his intent. Flexing your waist up, you rest your slit against Boris’. Victor grabs your hips with his legs and starts rocking you against his boyfriend. It’s not enough to get your motor running again so soon, or Boris’, but the worn-out, pleased sounds trilling from his throat say it’s effective. His feather-duster tail reaches up and drags back and forth along your back, sending tingles along your spine.

Nobody quite has enough energy to reach a safeword. At some point, you’re pretty sure you pass out for a while. Last night you got a good rest for the first time in a while, but you’re still paying the deficit. At this point, there’s no point jostling the sleeping rise and fall of the boys’ chests just to climb down the mountain and pass out again there. You close your eyes and allow sleep to retake you, thinking about tomorrow.

You feel better.

>Fear of Loss Potency reduced by 2

You could pry into secrets at night, at the cost of one of your three day actions. One of your day actions will be spent conferencing with Mamachomp and Michael at the building site when she arrives. Darcie will be joining you to work out the details. This leaves you with two free actions total.

>>Night Action

>(It is too soon to bother Hoopa again)

>Follow the trail of eggshells

>Follow the trail of blood

>Follow the trail of smoke

>Go to the city at the underside of the world (investigate the moon goblet, the burning heart, or the palace of walls and locks)

>>Day Actions

>See Amor about mailing out advertisements (you may also send letters to anyone you wish)

>Join Gwen and Spring to finish setting up their obstacle course, they are using Hustle as their test subject (he needs exercise)

>Join Victor and Boris to wash up at his usual hot springs

>Hang out with Darcie and Blackberry (Darcie has no plans, do what?)

>Leave Blackberry with Darcie to get some space (they will be unavailable for adventuring)

>Take Darcie and Blackberry with you and delve into Great Sunshine Field to look for a Sun Stone (2 actions, you might also find other valuables)

>Scout for a hot spring location

>Booty call someone (choose who)

Chapter Text

You hit the ground crawling. Falling into that ephemeral otherworld, you find yourself already on the move, pacing the walls of your memory and stretching your gangly limbs. Sleep is shaken fully from your shoulders. You are awake and aware.

It has passed- the feeling that your strings and foundations may crack and erupt from the inside, like a compound fracture in the wake of a tetanus spasm. Like folded and kneaded dough, you feel more solid than ever. You can feel the shape of you, a long-limbed and Salazzle-like chimera of the beloved and familiar, human ghost-strands wriggling like tails behind. At a thought they reach out and caress still-beloved memories, crystal worms sleeping in the walls. Library books of your past.  

Whispers from your heart speak of desire to know. You oblige, slit-nostrils flaring. You breathe deeply the fine pink dream mist in search of familiar scents.

>Fear of Loss: Potency 7, Lingering Oxytocin, Guarded (16/3)

Porcelain. Within the ghostly traces of perfume half-remembered, you taste porcelain on your tongue, and tilt back reflexively to sip. Aromatic fingers reach into your nostrils, olfactory sense plucking memories of every time you’ve sipped tea. They are rare. One lingers most. Young, lying in bed. A bad sickness taken hold. Your parents brought you herbal tea. It was disgusting. It fought the nausea and won. A hero of its time.

It is not in pieces like the eggshells, the porcelain. It is pulled apart atomically like ribbon, an inescapable porcelain web, as hard and sharp as it is brittle. A bristling fortress. A dragon’s lair, reflecting the locks and walls that tower in that terrible weeping palace. Recreated in miniature down to the black mortar stark against porcelain brick. Your cousin, Lovelorn Yearning, patrols its woven borders half-awake. Another intrusion may not go unnoticed.

>You may now sneak, attack or parley at the fortress of porcelain

This is not your destination tonight. Picking your way lizardly through the trail of eggshells, you use dainty fingers to tiptoe on top of them, tiny platforms for your blot to climb through the blushing void. Each touch sends electric pain through the smoking veins and into your heart. Worms writhe. They remember. Every look of disappointment. Every doubt that you were loved. It is not unanimous. Other worms slither near and babble defenses in your ears. Every look of worry. One does not worry for an unloved unlovable thing.

The sting goes deeper than that, but you lack the wounds to imagine it in full.

You find the egg. It is broken and a hole gapes to the inside, where it is neither dark nor light but more pink as far as the eye can see. A shade dimmer, perhaps. Diffused throughout. Gilded claws fan one at a time to grip the edge, and you slink inside.

Mist catches against every surface. Nothing so concrete as vision.

Something as gaseous as feeling.

Disparate dancing sensations fade, peeling away from your skin and organs. Not a molt, nothing voluntary of the body. A cephalopod releasing its tentacles. You are seen and it rankles at seeing you.

Space cracks in the distance. Jagged edges precipitate from the void, fault lines into mountainous blades. Spaces between spaces for escape grow thin. A trap. Not for you but for something like you, something black and itching, moving in the forbidden places behind the stage.

All the diffused pitch in the pink compresses, a cloud of smoke and ink in the shape of black. Blue sparks travel through nodes inside like neurons firing in slow motion. Trails leak behind them like constellation lines between stars, nothing real just imagination. In the pulsing glimmer of these temporary lines you see her outlined, Gwen, curled up in the heart of the cloud. Only by virtue of its gaseous translucence does it escape autoimmune response. You are not so fortunate, opaque and concrete and awake as you are.

Cracks closer, more refined with definition. Five panes of pink glass or clear glass against the infinite beyond, in the shape of star glare, the flare of sunlight refracting into a camera lens. In the shape of swords. Through the glass windows you can see eyes, so much like hers’ but without the warmth. Coldly they lock onto you.

Vibrations strike you, running through the pink like sonar through water. Taking in your shape as you take in hers’. “Priority target located. Attack. Bite. Exterminate.” Five of Swords bristles at her own command. They point their edges at you. Her meaning is clear.

>Fight (suggest a strategy)

>Flee (the trap will harry your flight)

>Parley (her five eyes are cold)

Chapter Text

>Parley

>Five of Swords: Advantage, Five Strong, Nightmare Hunter, Tracking, Domination, Combat (22, 19)

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Analysis, Distraction, Lucid Dreaming, Combat, Gwen Expert (30, 23)

To harm her is unthinkable. And so, to fight any part of her is a fool’s errand. Your claws, things of fire and intent, would be rendered dull by your hesitation. No such restriction hinders her blades, detached as they are from any cognition. Like a mirror reflecting your own fear, she swells with dominant strength, blades as long as the horizon and as thin as a whet knife. Even as avenues of parley write themselves across your skin, your limbs are forced to flex and leap for survival.

It is a dance across the dreamscape, evading swords that puncture through the space where you were, eyes that track you relentlessly. Predictable. A singular purpose given form- single-celled, blind to its own programming and yours’. It knows that you are the sickness, and that it is the cure, and that this is all that there is in its world.

You breathe in, and the holes in your heart exhale smoke. Lavender and lascivious, reeking of lust and flirtation. Plumes slither through the air, gaseous reptilian cupids that dart audaciously into her eyes during those brief pauses between swings and blow little hearts. She doesn’t blink, but they track you no longer, gaze turning to the tiny errant impulses and chasing them.

They are not as clever as you. Single-celled things, they are caught and cut down, but they buy you the time that their existence was born to buy. Far from your core, such fleeting wants are replicable and easily replaced by the biological engine inside of your loins, already overactive and overeager. The loss does not hurt you.

>Fear of Loss: 7 Potency, Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Foreign Dreamspace, Nightmare Hunter (16/3)

You grab your shoulder and dig your claws in. You rake. Black ink paints your nails, and then wherever your claws skitter across the nothing, it gains substance. A surface to push against, to leap from. Black takes on color, stained by memories. Yours’ and hers’. Chroma bleeds into the colorless pink. Brown and green, dirt and grass. Choking gray scorch marks. Training grounds. This is where you practiced with Gwen, learned how to navigate with purpose through battle.

Two of them join together, refocusing on you. They raise into the air like fangs and slice into the dirt, the impact cracking it like an earthquake. When they pull away, rent soil sprays into the air in geysers. Colors wash out into pink where she tears through your creation, but not faster than you can make it. Fluidly, you slither between the spray and more training grounds expand ahead of you to carry your feet.

>Fear of Loss has lost 1 Potency

>Wake the real Gwen

Unlike the lust-cupids and their gaseous forms, forcing shape into the shapeless dreamless wandering takes something out of you, and you heave for reflexively for breath. It is necessary. It is necessary to reach her.

Giving substance to this not-quite-dream gives substance to her, too. Substance and definition. The Gwen of mist and starlight dangling behind the blades. It gives space meaning. Meaning that brings with it angles, approaches, measurement and progress. It allows you to draw near. Like a blanket in the cold, her cloak of clouds curls inward, hugging tightly to the shape of her ephemeral edges.

A short-lived cupid dances past her face and whispers sweet nothings into her ear. It twitches, and the concave interior heats up with bright stellar blue. Moments later it is shaved away. The passing of the blade leaves an opening, the weight of the swing pulling it away from you.

You reach out, and grab. Flickering fur furls between your fingers, spiraling into the air. Gwen’s eyes flutter open, awake but blind, as the venom of your touch sinks into her skin.

No you didn’t mean to-

In the span of moments, the weight of your fears and insecurities crashes into her. Like molecules seek like within her thoughtveins, your poison finds her own fears of loss and coils around them like serpents, becoming merged. Her jaws wrench open, and for a moment you can feel her proprioception shifting between the waking and terror worlds. In her sleep she twists, turns, and kicks, in the grips of a nightmare. In the grips of You: The Fear of Loss.

She screams. Like rubber bands falling into the event horizon, everything snaps inwards to singularity.

It is night on the training grounds. You can feel the dirt beneath your claws. Gwen is standing here, her eyes blank and white. Gwen is everywhere, stretched in constellations across the night sky. She watches, disembodied, as her body prowls closer to you with glass sword eyes and glass sword teeth.

Golden claws grip the edges of the field. The rest of the world is shrouded in black smoke, pumping through the spaces between the stars and drowning out the moon’s watchful gaze. Caustic saliva drips from gaping fangs, dribbling down in spits of black rain that stain the ground. Split ribs gape open, baring your heart.

The heart. That’s you. You are unable to look behind you.

You are Murdoch. The Murdoch of her dreams- her nightmares. A fear, newly born, incubated by You, has given shape to this you. You are only overlaid on top of it, a puppet shaped like you. Thoughts are foggy, but getting clearer.

Menacing paws plod towards you. There is no anger in the Empty Gwen that she watches stalk you. No more anger than was ever in those cold eyes, tracking You in your deadly sextuple dance.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Analysis, Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert (5, 6/4)

Everyone leaves in the end. Distanced from her to keep moon-eyes from seeing her. Distanced from her by her conflict-prone nature. The sword prickles them, prickles her from the inside. She pushes them away or they push her away. It bothers her more, sometimes, than others. Your veins, soldered together, pump in sympathy. They make this one of those times.

Gwen watches helplessly from the cosmos.

As helpless as she believes she is.

Your feet are frozen to the ground. You cannot escape the approach of this single-celled organism.

As helpless as she believes you are.

But she is here with you now. She can hear you now.

>Parley.

>Appeal to lust (turn this into a wet dream)

>Appeal to love (you won’t be pushed away)

>Appeal to independence (she is not its slave)

Chapter Text

>Tie Breaker: Love and Independence

>Murdoch Will: Dependent, Fear of Loss (9/18)

New fears and worries swirl up inside of you, the possibility that you might disappear. That you might fail. That you might be banished. That you might leave her behind all alone. You can’t be her only support structure against this, you can’t be. You’re too ephemeral.

You will be her pillar. She was yours’, and you owe her that. You are stronger together than alone.

Raising one gilded claw, you knock over those doubts like the upstart fledglings they are. True love conquers all, and it can brook no impurities in the foundation lest its truth be diluted.

“Do not lose faith.”

>Fear of Loss has gained 1 Potency.

>Murdoch Will: Supported, Lucid Dreaming, Fear of Loss, Foreign Dreamscape, Glaring Sword (10/6)

A quiet confidence roots where those worries had been. Opening your mouth and forcing the idea of breath to fill your lungs comes with much struggle, the rise of your chest is sluggish under the gravity of False Gwen’s steps. With that breath, you smell the grass, the Pecha on her breath, the desert sand. With that breath you pull the good memories from the well, turn the crank until the bucket glimmers in the sun.

Then, the paralysis that locked you in place gives way, buckling. You take a step and finally find yourself able to speak.

>Murdoch Charm: Supported, Cunning Linguist, Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Half-Awakened, Half-Soul (18/6)

“Look. Look at me!” you shout at the sky and the stars, and they look. A dozen gleaming eyes and five. Placing a claw to your chest, you clutch above your heart, feeling it thud, as real and vibrant as if you were awake. “You’ve seen what you’ve done to me. My… my confidence. I am who I am now because I met you. I don’t want to lose you, I won’t ever push you away!” Pouring raw, thunderous emotion into the words, you enable them to boom across the dreamscape.

She could still push you away. The sword spots a weakness.

>Five of Swords: Advantage, Sword, Domination, Combat (12, 20/4)

There is only one, now. Not blades from all angles, but a Gwen-shaped opponent from straight ahead. On the other hand, you are only you, now. And you, Murdoch, cannot leap through the smoke and dreams like a ghost on the wind. Her weight crashes into you, and her jaws close around your neck. You just manage to get your claws in and hold her back from crushing down, pinned beneath her in the dirt.

Teeth dig in, razor-sharp as glass. Your claws are wet. You are bleeding.

>Gwen Will: Charm Success, Gwen Expert, Risktaker, Half-Awakened, Half-Soul, Not a Talker, Swords Success (12/12)

Gwen’s aloneness clings to her like colossal weights on all of her limbs. There is a mighty groan as she attempts to move them. Inside of her constellated muscles, her impulsive nature sparks, a blade of bone and sinew grinding against one of glass and dreams.

Your words- their meanings- have reached her in the heavens. If only just. The capacity to understand and to express in her is diminished, but not her power to feel. Impaired of cochlea and chord, the deafmute of the soul. You see it now. The dominant core of her want, the source of her feelings of isolation.

Knocked aside by the falling sky, False Gwen tumbles across the training field. True Gwen is here, now, with her feet on the soil. The mist of her want has coalesced around her celestial distance, dark vaporous flesh for a skeleton of light. Glazed and distant eyes betray that she is not fully awake as you are. But she sees you, and her desire to be close to you brings her there.

You reach around her neck, and she helps you up while nuzzling into you. It feels like sinking into her fur.

>Five of Swords: Sword, Nightmare Hunter, Combat, Challenged Dominance (18/6)

>Fear of Loss: 7 Potency, Supported, Dependent, Out of Body, Foreign Dreamscape (15/3)

You must not lower your guard. It sees her now, and her want. What she is will war against itself.

You cannot push Gwen away. Instead, you leap into danger for her. The Empty Sword lunges at the space where she was, and now you are. Her shoulder tackle throws you into Gwen and then through her, and you feel knocked loose from your senses, rolling on the ground with no sense of up. A familiar feeling off slamming back into yourself from outside of yourself follows. You ache, and the migraine resurfaces. Knocked loose from the you that is loose from you in you. The degrees of separation become strenuous to maintain. Any more and you may wake up. Or not wake up.

>Murdoch has suffered a Psychic Rupture.

When you manage to pull up onto your side, you see the two Gwens circling one another. The true one dreamlike, and the false one reallike. True Gwen’s spectral fur bristles, crackling with the strength of her wanting. She wants to be close to you, the part of her that is a person and the part of her that is a nightmare. She wants to hold you and feel you and understand you, she is so close, closer than she has ever felt with any other. She fears losing you, she wants to keep you. These things are making her stronger.

You are wobbly when you stand. True Gwen is still ghostly and her eyes distant. Against the lucid and aware sword, she may be in danger.

You must choose what to do.

You may choose how to help.

>Join the fight even in your weakened state (you might die)

>You have done what you can. Trust Gwen to master herself, stay out of her way (she might die)

>Bring yourself to the layer of their fight (a nightmare is not a gentle creature, you may destroy Five of Swords)

>Try to fully awaken Gwen and her Deafmute Soul, as the intruder did for you (the shock may cause a Psychic Rupture)

> Do not interfere

Chapter Text

>Do not join the fight, you would get in the way

>Awaken Gwen

It is an easy decision to make, and a simple goal. You know it is achievable. But you do not know how to achieve it. As the two Gwens circle one another on the battlefield, you watch from above, but are not watching them. You are sorting through what you know. This is what you are good at. Your mind is sharp.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Psychic Rupture (20, 14/10)

You squat in the field, watching the two Gwens circle one another. Fear paralyzes you, clutching at your bleeding neck, just above the frills. Shallow, barely more than a scratch, but what could have been terrifies you and where it is terrifies the part of you that believes you’re in a real body right now. Your brain is screaming that something vital is damaged.

Something sifts through your head, pulling distantly scattered memories and thoughts and ideas back onto the table. Like someone reaching over your shoulder to help put a puzzle together after you threw it on the floor. Or someone else threw it on the floor. Or a sword came and crashed through the table and blew it all to pieces. It pulls your attention to how you first started experiencing- this. All of this.

King. Someone showed you King. Something from his past, something from his head. And it was so forceful and violent, you got knocked loose from the place in your head you’re supposed to be and you woke up, like rolling out of bed.

You have already done one of these things. You have forced your way- accidentally- into Gwen’s mind, into her dreams and memories. It was not a gentle intrusion. You regret it but it is true. She should be awake if that is all it takes.

And she might be. It took you a long time to get your footing in this place, to understand- okay, you still don’t understand all of what’s happening, but you understand what you understand and it took time to get there. She could be where you started, even now. Without all that time to figure it out.

Or maybe she’s a heavier sleeper than you are and needs an extra push.

This beautiful stellar creature, all cloud and cosmos, is so stretched out filling the space in her head that she is nearly insensate. Would a cloud feel if you passed a hand through its fluffy coat? How do you wake something so diffuse? How do you stop the information you need to give from scattering like kinetic force blowing particles away from you on air currents?

A cloud is just water vapour. Or something else, like smoke, a sandstorm, or debris. To make it something you can touch, you need to compress it down. Gwen already started to be more active and aware when she compressed into her current shape. Like your dream avatar did, gradually becoming less smoky and then less fluid, and each time you became more aware and had more agency in this place.

Then you know what must be done.

>Fear of Loss: Potency 7, Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Restraint, Dangerous, Difficult (17/9)

Towering, gilded columns expand in size, ringing the imagined arena. Slippery tendrils snake their way into the spaces between, closing out all the vastness beyond this microcosmic space. Swelling, until they press in on an invisible boundary between out there and in here. You can feel the pressure. In sinks in around you like the gravity of another, far denser world.

Your body coils around her on the plane above. Firm, but gentle. You must maintain control.

At last, the fight receives your attention once more. The Gwens were not merely standing while you deliberated.

>Deafmute Soul: Potency 3, Combat, Half-Soul, Half-Awake (12/9)

>Five of Swords: Advantage, Sword, Combat, (3, 7/6)

A wrestling match tilts back and forth between them, each trying to gain an angle to bite at something vital on the other. Five of Swords rushes forward, jaws open. With her paw, Gwen strikes her in the side of the face and throws her to the ground. There’s barely a moment’s pause, no stunned daze or loss of direction, before Five of Swords surges back to her feet and crashes head-first into Gwen’s chest. When Gwen grabs onto her and they tumble, their claws scrape each others’ sides. Gwen’s ethereal nails find little to grip, while the Swords’ claws leave red trails.

Gwen pulls away from the exchange. She’s sluggish, getting sloppy, barely holding ground. It’s bought just enough time.

The pressure hits them at the same time it hits you. Both suddenly fall to the ground in the midst of their motions, struggling to push back to their feet.

Gwen- the True Gwen, your Gwen- is changing. Whatever you’re doing is having the desired effect. Black ooze molds to the shape of the glowing constellations that are her inner structure, until it begins to leave gaps, like the nanoscopically thin membranes of soap bubbles deforming and then vanishing along the surface of the hand. The outer layer of the fluid becomes harder, turning into a crust, barely translucent enough to see the glow of the bright blue stars underneath each joint. A gaunt, skeletal figure. Behind her eye sockets, gleaming cerulean sparks become brighter, her eyes opening.

You do not think it is healthy for her to remain at this pressure for an extended period of time. It is a shortcut, a temporary cut corner to bridge the gap between what she is and what she might be. To break a cocoon open before the creature inside has fully formed will kill the creature.

You have taken great care not to damage her. You can only squeeze the cocoon for so long before something structural gives way.

>Murdoch Will: Lucid Dreaming, Cunning Linguist, Gwen Expert, Psychic Rupture, Compressed, Deafmute Soul (14/14)

“Gwen!” you call out her name, and she looks for you, as if she can’t hear you at first. Then her eyes trace the source and lock onto you.

Like hearing your voice through the window of another room. Muffled echoes.

Five of Swords tries to capitalize on the distraction to lunge, but the heavy pressure means she cannot move quickly enough. Gwen detects the attempt in the corner of her periphery and sidesteps, then backsteps. A matador dodging away from a Tauros, rendered in slow motion. “That’s…” the memory of breath chokes you as you struggle to breathe the dense air. It’s too heavy, it doesn’t feel right. The memory of the crisp wild air in Stepstone is strangled, it comes out wrong.

You can see why… you don’t want to hold things like this for too long.

If she comes to remember it like this, will the real thing come to feel fake?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you do your best to explain in as few halting words as possible, “That’s your… the feeling you get… the targeting feeling! It’s… part of what makes Empties… I think.”

There are no ears on Gwen’s skeletal form, but she widens her stance and audibly snarls. You can imagine her ears peeling back in aggression, challenging the cold gaze of her inner weapon. What sounds she makes do not come across to you as speech, but as raw emotion, fizzling against your skin like acid rain. Then she quells her angry snarl and what comes is her voice, coarse and weak, overlaid by an ethereal whisper, “Murdoch… stay safe.”

Their battle goes on, now slow and deliberate, but with a weight of purpose and intent behind Gwen’s movements where before was only reflex and muscle memory.

>Gwen Will: Intimidation+, Combat, Righteous Purpose, Half-Soul, Compressed (16/6)

>Deafmute Soul: Potency 3, Combat, Half-Soul, Compressed (15/9)

>Five of Swords: Sword, Combat, Gwen’s Recklessness, Compressed (20/6)

No more floaty weightlessness. Bone spines grow from her shoulders, and the first of Gwen’s tackles topples Five of Swords to the ground, sending tiny chips of glass sailing into the air, scattered shrapnel from the impact. With both feet, Gwen stomps its face into the dirt, then chomps her jaws onto its hind leg, savaging it back and forth. There is no blood, only a deafening crack and a fracture of glass as the construct fragments open. Sharp splinters would have cut into Gwen’s gums, had she any flesh to spare. It only flecks harmlessly against boney black.

>Five of Swords is cracked

The aggressive tact leaves Gwen’s belly exposed. Five of Swords grabs onto a rib bone with her teeth, a yank of her head nearly fracturing it in turn and shearing it from Gwen’s body. If it hadn't been compressed as thick as bone, something vital would have been left torn and bleeding. A yelp escapes her throat and she wriggles back, a layer of the blackness turning oily and sloughing off to spare the delicate constellation beneath, now exposed. Where the flensed want hangs limply in Swords’ jaws, it withers and burns away like tissue thrown into a campfire.

>Deafmute Soul suffered a critical hit and has lost 2 Potency

Two steps back gives Gwen room to breathe, the starry light swelling and stretching between the open bone with each gasp, like a herniated organ. The black shell around her ripples, as if hugging to her, and you faintly make out whispers on the wind- whispers for her ears, not yours’.

Assurances that she can do this. That she has to do this.

It is nearly won. Five of Swords tries to stand again, but her back leg buckles beneath her and she topples to the ground. In her eyes is the cold calculation of a living weapon. She is exposed to be finished off, but no less dangerous to anything that draws within her reach.

Gwen takes one step forward, and both of them tense. You can see her eyeing in those hollow white spheres the thing she most hates about herself, that constant urging from an instinct not her own. But it is her own. She was born with it, it was born with her. “Enough,” you barely hear her wheeze to herself. “Enough of you. Die.” Bony jaws gaping, she is ready to go in for the kill.

Good. It would only come between us.

Choose one main option, and one sub-option.

>>Destroy Five of Swords

>Let Gwen finish off Five of Swords

>Intervene. Finish Five of Swords from a safe distance

>>Convince Gwen to let Five of Swords exist

>Tell Gwen she’s ready to be the one in control

>Suggest keeping Five of Swords crippled and easier to control

>We can go deeper (enter Five of Swords’ inner world, maybe its programming can be altered)

Chapter Text

>Destroy Five of Swords

>Believe in Gwen

Any reservations you hold are but whispers. The fear is loudest, and you want to let Gwen own this decision about herself.

This place is all feeling and perception. That much you’ve come to understand. Closing your eyes, you try to quieten the fear, shuffle it into boxes where it won’t be so loud, lest you manifest into existence some threat to Gwen’s solemn advance from the sharp, jagged thing she’s approaching. You try to conjure in its place your faith in her, the belief that she can do this, that she’s going to be fine.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreaming, Magic Tricks, Psychic Rupture (3, 10/10)

>Murdoch Will: Intelligence Success, Lucid Dreaming, Supported, Psychic Rupture (12/8)

A magician knows the tricks of perception. How to illude others, deceive the eye. It is no easy feat for one to illude oneself of facts known, but they do not have the tools at hand that you do. Peeling and stretching a long flap of tailfin, you blind one eye and leave the other unhindered. You can no longer see the depth of what could go wrong, of the things that you want to deny.

Something shifts in you. It’s like you’ve gone half-blind. The world feels shallower, like shapes cut out against a backdrop. You focus on just what that one eye remaining sees. The… ‘want’ that you want to happen, the desire for Gwen to succeed, and you believe- or at least think as hard as you can that it will happen.

Forced belief. A brittle, fragile substance forged in willful ignorance. It encrusts her tooth and claw with crystals like fresh hoarfrost after the first true chill of winter. Powerful and temporary, forged of the same glass as her oppressor. Another ablative layer between she and it.

>Gwen Will: Intimidation+, Domination, Combat, Righteous Purpose, Half-Soul, Compressed (9/4)

>Deafmute Soul: Potency 1, Combat, Make Believe, Half-Soul, Compressed (13/9)

>Five of Swords: Combat, Gwen’s Recklessness, Shattered Sword, Compressed (3/10)

In a final lunge, it is over. Five of Swords lurches up and tries to bring her fangs to bear, but Gwen is faster. Her glass-forged claws dig into Swords’ shoulders, and her jaws clamp down on her own neck. One wrench, and like a stained-glass window falling to the ground the sword-thing is shattered, reduced to glittering powder that flakes away into nothing.

The inner turmoil with which she has gripped and tousled for her entire life is gone in a moment. Her nature shifts in the vacuum left behind.

>Five of Swords has perished

>Gwen has lost Risktaker

>Gwen has lost Dungeon Heart

>Gwen has gained Half-Soul

The ground lurches.

Glassware scaffolding beneath and around the world that is Gwen collapses. You-

>Fear of Loss: Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Restraint, Blindsided, Potency 7 (5/13)

>Deafmute Soul: Potency 1, Make Believe, Half-Soul (8/9)

-r own mass is too great compared to hers’, suddenly. The compression collapses inwards and you try to pull back, but it’s too little, too late. The fiction of your self-deception collapses, the blindfold falls from your face. The black bones encasing Gwen crack, and when you finally regain control and release your grasp she spills out, losing definition.

Weight from all sides shoves you into the ground of the battlefield, and Gwen’s sense of self collapses into a pile of light and crumbling, chalky darkness that drifts through the air. Fear shoots through you. You scramble towards her, and it’s like trying to swim through zero gravity, even as you swim through the foreignness of your own shape, falling in and out of yourself. Grass and dirt come apart and unspool at your every touch and tug, like loose thread, like you.

>Gwen has suffered a Psychic Rupture

>Deafmute Soul has lost 1 Potency

>Deafmute Soul is nearing dissolution

>Fear of Loss has gained 2 Potency

The foreign element and yawning loneliness that have given her fragile self shape for her entire life are collapsed. Collapsing. One is not dead yet, though it will perish without intervention.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Gwen Expert, Psychic Rupture (16, 14/10)

You gather up the stringy mass that is Gwen’s shape. Your own thoughts of her affect her strongly in this fragile state, and she expands into a foggy Poochyena shape. Before you can force too much on her, you realize what’s happening and try to reel yourself in. Already your overzealous influence has done as much harm as good. The awareness that was in her eyes as the world of her compressed is gone, bleary gaze blinking. Thank the Gods she’s blinking.

Chunks of black chalk fall apart into dust beneath your knees. Their touch faintly tickles old feelings of isolation from your peers, when she spread rumors about you. Those feelings are leeched out of you, then perish and fade with vanishing particles of nightmare-stuff. In the brief moment before they vanish, you feel a sensation of deep peace.

Having you near is threatening what little substance her Deafmute Soul still possesses. She is loneliness, isolation.

“… not alone… no more alone…” her voice is weak, tiny, disappearing. You feel a swelling terror inside of you.

She sounds so happy.

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreamer, Psychic Rupture (18/12)

Her ‘want’ is fulfilled, this thing that is a part of her. The other thing that was a part of her yet wasn’t, the thing pushing everyone away, pushing Gwen away from everyone, is gone. You understand now. A revelation comes upon you, and you reach down to take hold of more of the black chalk, holding it reverently.

As fragile as glass.

It feels joy, as it melts like snow in your palm. It tells you not to weep for it. It loves her. You love her. It feels at peace.

Peace is death!

Roiling black smoke rumbling up from your stomach and down from the sky. It descends in thick fog, trickles out of the sides of your mouth, and you cry smoky tears from the edges of your eyes.

Misery loves company. The misery in you, your own want-thing, is in despair. You can’t look at it. Even thinking about it as a thing outside you makes your insides lurch dangerously outwards, as if it could burst from every pore in your body.

You put on a blindfold to that eye. The revelation fades.

You can’t look it in the eyes.

Only in mirrors.

But it’s up there. At the top of golden pillars and watching through eyes beyond black clouds. Watching Gwen’s misery die. Misery loves company.

She brings us together.

It’s not healthy for her.

She holds her together!

“strong… will heal… with you…” She cannot want this. She cannot want to disappear and leave you. That is not possible. It cannot happen, you will not allow it.

Maybe it’s true. Maybe Gwen will heal on her own, with you to help. Become her own person, free from all of this metaphysical garbage holding her down. She’ll find new things to want. People always do.

“I will…”

She will not be her.

“will be  back… if I need me…”

Or maybe this is the final straw that will dissolve her completely in this moment of weakness. Can she hold onto who she is after this much loss?

You can save her. You can save them both. Tear this excess flesh from you and mold it into hers’. There is flesh and blood and want enough to share. You and she are alike enough for the graft to take.

>Sacrifice Potency to save the Deafmute Soul (how much? (you have 9))

>Let her go peacefully (You will resist (You cannot do this!))

Chapter Text

>Tie

>Murdoch Intelligence: Advantage, Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Psychic Rupture (1, 12/10)

>Murdoch Will: Lucid Dreaming, Gwen Expert, Understanding, Doubts, Potency 9, Psychic Rupture, Layer Below (19/17)

Uncertainty assails you, leaving your head spinning. It’s a nauseating sensation, drifting loosely as you are. A slithering black inkwell within your limbs tries to move them on its own, to wrangle you where it wishes- where you wish- like a second set of parasitic muscles. There’s a great weight behind the attempt, one you struggle against with all your might.

No. Not all your might. You do want the same thing it wants. It’s not even deep down. Watching something- a part of someone you love- disappear, it’s terrifying. Even if that part is something that’s an expression of something that’s not good for them to cling to. Even if that part… makes them feel closer to you.

Reaching down, you tenderly pick up one of the largest clumps of the dying nightmare. Stringy coils within your arm attempt to push out past the translucent, wobbly exterior of your weary and worn sense of self. They are held back by a moment of clarity.

This is the want that connected her to you. Pathetic, miserable you. You will let this one die while another takes her place? What if she, if Gwen, no longer needs you?

It comes to you, the little voice in the back of your head, with insecurity disguised as reason. You reject its assertions. Just because Gwen fulfills this want, it doesn’t mean a new one won’t bloom in its place.

That will not be the same as the Deafmute Soul. She will be gone.

Will she still be the Deafmute Soul if you force your own wants into her? Forcing Gwen to need you by putting your own grief on her shoulders is no better than what the King does to his victims. You aren’t going to be ruled by that voice.

Clenching yourself around your fear, you once more reaffirm your will. “You are not the one in control.”

>Murdoch’s soul has grown stronger

You will let her die. You will kill her.

It whimpers, now, its roar reduced to a desperate plea. All the pettiness, boiled down to a kernel of something worth acknowledging. Is the Deafmute Soul changing, or is it dying? Is that a life? Does it matter? Does it have value?

This thing doesn’t need to die. Maybe that would even be bad. You’re not sure. What you know is that she needs to be able to change.

>Murdoch Will: Lucid Dreaming, Magic Tricks, Gwen Expert, Understanding, Strong Soul, Psychic Rupture (20/5)

>Compromise?

>…Compromise.

And you really do believe that it will change. Into something better. What that is isn’t up to you. But you’re going to make sure that it happens. Cupping the fading snowflakes in your palms, you lean in and brush them softly with your snout. “I love her too.”

You stop struggling. There is a layer of smooth, faceted crystal molding over the clump of Deafmute Soul in your hands. It closes, sealing in this piece of her, preserving it against the encroaching dissolution. It preserves her because you believe it will. Because you believe it should.

Layers of allusion give it shape as your mind rationalizes what this is. A cocoon, an egg, a time capsule. With your gentle hands, you cradle it in the chest of the Gwen-shape that flickers and shimmers faintly. With something to hold onto, she shrinks around it. Small, so small, but more solid than she was before.

Someday, it will hatch. Someday she will open it. And what is there will be different, but it will be of her.

Letting go of this layer of Gwen’s subconscious, you drift backwards, back towards the thing that takes you in its claws and nestles you in its heart. You are tired. So tired.

You wake up.

It’s morning. You can’t see the light yet, tucked away from the cave entrance and swaddled in bat and bird as you are. You smell it, though. There’s a subtle difference between day air and night air. The temperature, you think. Probably affects the humidity. It sounds rational enough that your brain accepts it as fact until proven otherwise.

Morning fucking sucks. You feel unwell. You don’t want to move. There’s a wetness against your neck, beneath the collar.

Wetness…

When you try to reach up to feel it, your claw arrives several seconds after you’d intended it to, lagging behind the ghost of your intentions. Feeling the wet spot, you wince, and bring your claw up to your face. Something fluffy is draped over your eyes, but your nose smells copper and… something. Something chemical that isn’t in human blood.

It’s not human blood. It’s Salandit blood. You’re bleeding.

>Murdoch Fitness: Psychic Rupture (10/14)

A wave of nausea tries to come up. It doesn’t quiet reach your mouth, but then echoes crash into it from below and the cascade is too much. You spasm, curl up, and retch yesterday’s dinner into the hay of Victor and Boris’ shared bed. The sudden movement, the gagging sounds, and the smell stir them awake. “Murdoch?” Victor’s voice asks. At first he pulls away and looks down with concern, then he sees the vomit painting his chest-fur and his face reflexively contorts in disgust, flipping away out of the bed. “Augh!” Looking around in a panic, he grabs a cloth meant for dusting shelves and tries to scrub himself clean.

Boris turns you over onto your front when you groan and try to flop onto your back. “Hey, hey. Just let it out… what’s this?” he’s noticing the trails of red running down from under your collar, now.

“I-I’m… bleeding. Need to- to wrap it with, w-with something.”

>Victor Intelligence: Advantage, Reading, Neat Freak, Rude Awakening (13, 2/12)