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Pathfinding: An Adult Choose Your Own Adventure

Fourteenth Entry

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Vote Tallies

A - 0

B - 20

C - 6

Additional Votes:

* Breed Ryg - 4

* More information from the High Alpha about current events - 2

* Have Leta stay with the Blue Feather as a liason - 1

* Information on the state of the North - 2

* Get a cart - 1 - the party can take one from the slavers...if they win

* More opportunities for non-consensual sex (especially for Rufus) - 1

* Cutscene to how the girls are doing with Hasten Term and their new babies - 1

* Bring Rael with us - 2

* Species to meet and mate - sheep, sheep-dogs, bunnies, cats, horses, cows, chickens, Minotaurs, Centaurs, Humans, Felines, Hounds, Badgers, Otters, Ferrets, Hares, Mice, Moles, Shrews, satyrs, skunks, squirrels

Author Notes

Because we are going slow-and-sneaky, we only have a 20% chance of encountering anything...and of course I promptly roll a natural 1. Random encounter!

Pathfinding Fourteenth Entry

It was a fine thing, being the Warlord. Some people might just call her a warlord, but they'd be wrong. No, she was the Warlord, a title that needed no name, for the title was far more important than any name could ever be. She'd had a name, long, long ago, but nobody really cared about it. Nobody really cared about the past of someone like her at all, and why should they: it wasn't important. What was important was the present, and in the present, she was the Warlord, and before her, all of Summer Country would fall. After she'd dominated that continent, well, who knew? The sky, as they say, was the limit.

Reclining on her throne of flesh, the red dragoness with the black-scaled underbelly smiled as she watched her minions dragging a line of sobbing women toward her, the wives and daughters of the nobles that had been lording over the little dominion she'd recently conquered, a castle she'd put to the torch earlier that day. While healthy peasant girls were fun to toy with, the Warlord made a point of keeping her attentions only on the highest aristocracy of the lands she conquered. This wasn't out of any sense of class consciousness, of course, for the Warlord was perfectly happy to let her minions enjoy the peasantry as spoils of war, and her army already boasted a long train of swellbellied slaves forced to march behind the vanguard until they were ready to drop. No, the Warlord simply saved the nobility for her personal use, not only out of a perverse delight in defiling such high-born pussies, but also because she had every intention of spreading her seed among those with the right to rule, all the better to ensure her reign for years to come, and for generations long after she'd gone the way of all the world.

Admiring the blonde and busty woman at the front of the line, trailed by an almost equally busty blonde older daughter, and a petite younger daughter, all of them paraded naked before her army to better humiliate them and break their spirits, the Warlord squeezed and then caressed the right arm of her throne of flesh, smirking as she heard her armrest moan. She soon turned that moan into a loud gasp as she squeezed the smooth-bottomed boy's balls, then made her living armrest give a high-pitched cry as she squeezed the tip of her talon into his anus. Her right armrest was the son of the lord she'd slain, and the noble woman even now being forced to walk toward her for judgement. That, of course, was why it was called her throne of flesh: it was composed of the still-living bodies of the most handsome males she'd taken in her acts of conquest, bound to a padded frame to ensure they stayed in position while she enjoyed their soft bodies beneath her warm scales. Her right armrest was the newest addition, of course, and as she cruelly twisted her talon in the boy's virgin bottom, grinning wickedly at how easy it was to make him squirm beneath her resting elbow, she delighted in the fun she'd have deflowering him later, after she'd had her way with his mother and sisters.

Speaking of which...mmm, very nice indeed. The Warlord admired the shapely blonde woman and her two blonde daughters as they were forced to their knees before her, the great red dragoness nearly drooling as her immense, black-shafted and heavily-ridged penis quickly began to swell, becoming engorged with blood. The mother was defiant, of course, like any proper, strong-willed noble's wife should be, and so was her youngest, a precocious little teen if ever there was one. The older daughter, though, was fearful, her lovely breasts heaving in her fright as she looked around her at the slavering monsters hooting and jeering at her, and then at the living throne on which the Warlord sat...and then in near terror at the Warlord herself, shaking her head as though she could simply deny what she was seeing with her own eyes.

"That will be enough," the Warlord said in sultry, bored-sounding tones as she waved a talon before her, cutting of the angry tirade of the noble woman kneeling before her. "I have your lives in my claws, and you should know by my reputation that I am not the sort to show mercy." She flicked out her tongue, tasting the sweetness of the humans' fear, and their horror as they involuntarily fixed their eyes on her proud, glistening black member. Deliberately, the Warlord flexed her hips slightly, making her cock bob, which drew a fearful sob from the older daughter, and as a drop of thick, milky precum fell to the ground at the Warlord's feet, the confidence of the noblewoman began to fail, as did even that of her younger daughter, the rising realization of what fate had in store for them reflected in their eyes.

"Please, spare us!" begged the older daughter, breaking suddenly as she fell forward, prostrating herself before the throne of flesh. "Why are you doing this? We've done you no wrong..."

The older girl's words suddenly cut off with a gasp of her own as the Warlord reached forward, taking her time as she almost gently caressed the human's upturned bottom, then squeezed it, sinking a finger into the folds of the girl's virgin pussy. A little spark of magic passed between the Warlord and the girl, and soon those folds began to quickly moisten, even as the Warlord easily pulled the suddenly squirming teen into her lap, her strength vastly beyond anything a mere human could begin to imagine.

"Because I can, my dear," said the Warlord sweetly, before licking the girl's cheek with her forked tongue. "You're a lucky one, though - I intend to keep you for myself. I'm afraid I can't say the same for your mother and little sister, though: I still see defiance in their eyes. The best cure for that," and at this, she met the eyes of her bestial chief lieutenant, a strange, hunched creature of immense size but indeterminate species, scales and fur and chitin mingling equally on his thick-muscled thews, then gave a slight nod, "is a few rounds with my personal guard. After they've been tamed a bit, then we shall see if they can be put to more gentle uses."

It was easy for the Warlord to ignore the cries of shock and fear as her goatmen surged to the fore (it was always the goatmen at the vanguard - they were the most horny bastards in her army), seizing the older noblewoman and dragging her into their midst before dropping her flat on her back, her large breasts jiggling, before, moments later, her youngest was thrust on top of her by their rough hands, pretty face forced against those full mounds. After all, the Warlord had far more interesting things to play with, as she let her powerful talons gently caress the delightful breasts of the noblegirl in her lap, the girl sharply intaking her breath, biting her lower lip as she felt sharp, obsidian claws pinch the very tips of her nipples. Her prize, of course, despite the distraction of having her body stroked by rough dragon hands, couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of so many horrible goatmen with stallion-sized cocks surrounding her mother and little sister, the two struggling human females held roughly in place by the brutish males as they closed in, obscuring the older daughter's view of their fates. She saw one muscled male rump suddenly tense and thrust downward, and heard a high-pitched scream that told her surely that her little sister's virginity had been taken by force, before that scream was suddenly muffled as a grinning goatman grabbed something beneath him and pushed himself forward. Her mother's lower-pitched voice soon joined the higher pitch of the younger daughter, and was similarly muffled as the grunting, panting, sweating males gathered in close, a dozen or more with rigid cocks forcefully seeking a hole to fill, flashes of pink skin in the cruel grip of powerful, shaggy hands the only hint of what was transpiring in the middle of that tight-pressed gangbang. Every so often one of them would step back to rest, his cock dripping copiously as it sagged, but almost immediately another male would step in to take the place of the one who'd bowed out for a breather, and even those males who were resting didn't take long before they grew hard once more, and were soon back into the fray.

Suddenly, the older daughter had her breath taken away as the Warlord's talon engulfed her lightly-furred cunny, fingers toying with her tense pink places with exquisite skill, until the girl's juices were dripping onto the dragoness' thigh. She couldn't hold back the sweet whine as she felt those clawtips pressing against her hymen, slowly stretching it with patience born of centuries of life.

"I choose my best troops for their stamina," the Warlord explained, before licking the trembling girl's cheek, and then lower, over the tops of her breasts, tasting her sweat. "They'll take your mother and sister for days if I let them, though I think I'll have them stop after a few hours; I don't want them permanently broken, after all. Don't worry about them having goat kids, though: I made sure they weren't ready for breeding before I ordered their doom. No, their first offspring will be mine, that I promise you...as will yours."

"Please..." gasped the poor girl, before any further words were cut off as the Warlord smoothly squeezed her sharp-clawed finger past the helpless maiden's hymen, twisting the digit in a circle to ensure the magic at work removed all of that final barrier of flesh.

"You, however," the Warlord continued with a wicked grin as she pulled her finger out and gripped the girl underneath both thighs, lifting her upward, positioning her over that proud, powerful black member with its many brutal-looking ridges, "you are ripe."

"No!" wailed the poor girl, struggling desperately against her bonds, against the powerful talons gripping her fast. "Not that! Not...ah! Ah! AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!"

The Warlord hissed in deep satisfaction as the human girl's virgin vulva parted before the slow upward onslaught of her mighty shaft, slick juices flowing down to thoroughly coat its length as she let her squirming captive sink by fingerlengths down, down, down, until she was resting on the dragoness' heavily-veined black balls.

"Now," growled the Warlord in her shapely victim's ear, while the doomed girl moaned piteously, her head slumping back against the full red-and-black breasts of the powerful shemale in utter defeat, "time to give your mother some grandbabies!"

With a will, the Warlord started to thrust her hips, her powerful arms pumping the poor girl at the same brutal rate, making her plump breasts jiggle and bounce, while the girl herself made a host of hot cries as she was cruelly raped through unwilling orgasm after orgasm. All around them, the air was filled with similar cries from the camp, as the many captives of the Warlord's vanguard, male and female, were raped into total submission. In a matter of a few short years, this region's inhabitants would be the Warlord's loyal subjects, for they would be the offspring of her army...and of herself.

Hissing in delight, the Warlord exulted in her noble-blooded victim's especially high-pitched wail as she felt the dragoness' potent seed spurting inside of her. With heightened draconic senses, the Warlord felt the moment when her sperm penetrated the single egg within the girl's fallopian tubes. No, that wasn't enough she quickly decided, and lightly tapped the girl's belly, just over her ovaries, with a talon, deftly shaking free several more eggs, hastening their development with her potent magic, then shuddering in delight as she felt them similarly gang-banged by thousands of sperm each, then violently penetrated, quickened by her raw, primal virility.

Lifting the limp human girl like a ragdoll, the Warlord laughed at the expression on her well-raped victim's face. Her comfort was of no concern to a cruel creature like the red-and-black dragoness, only the use to which she could be put. There were, of course, many uses for a fine noble wench like this one, as the girl slowly realized with dawning horror, her eyes widening once more as she looked down, seeing the tip of the Warlord's rigid member prodding her tense anus. Past the point of speaking, she could only mouth the word "no," while shaking her head, giving the Warlord the most piteous looks. That just made it even better, as the Warlord grit her teeth in a feral grin of triumph...and pushed her beautiful victim down on her hard dragoncock once more, exulting in the sweet, glorious cries the girl gave as she was taken once more, this time in her untouched bum. It would not be the last time, no, not by a far cry.

*

Now that his group was smaller than it had been, Rufus' party moved quite a bit faster, even while they were working on staying silent and unseen. While Adel had been pretty good in the wilderness for a princess, the other girls were better off with the Blue Feather wolfen, at least for the job that lay ahead of Rufus and his stripped-down team. Cassidy ranged far ahead as the scout, a role for which the small, easily-overlooked tan rabbit was more than well-suited, while Rufus led from the front with Urta and Urtan by his side. At the rear were Ryg, who seemed to spend far more time admiring the rumps of the males in front of her than was really advisable in the wilderness (though how she could do this when she was blind, Rufus had no idea), and the sprightly Spark just a step or two before her, making sure the pale-furred shamaness didn't stumble over anything. In the middle were the other gnolls, One-Eye, Horse, Greymuzzle, and the twins, Rish and Rack, their senses alert as they crept through the forest as fast as Rufus dared to push them, not daring to go faster for fear of revealing their position. The team of eleven was a bit larger than Rufus would have liked, really, for both speed and stealth, but there would be fighting at the end of their journey, and so he didn't really want to go with any fewer than that. Actually, if he'd been able to pull in any other Blue Feather wolfen besides Ryg, Rufus would have just done without stealth entirely, but no, that hadn't been possible: the Blue Feather were mustering for war now, and that meant nobody was going anywhere, except on special assignments. That way, when newcomers arrived, they would see the massed might of the Blue Feather, an especially important need when other packs showed up, all the better to bolster their courage, and ensure the Blue Feather would stay at the center of all decisions made by the combined packs as a whole.

Overall, as the first day of travel came to a close, Rufus had to marvel at how ridiculously good time his near-dozen had made. For a brief moment, the grey-furred warrior considered pushing on through the night, but then decided against it, since there was too much opportunity for them to make mistakes in the dark, mistakes that could send them on the wrong trail, or, worse yet, alert their quarry to their approach. They'd stopped at a small homestead about halfway through the day, taking lunch while Spark made inquiries. The foxboy was remarkably good at making friends, even with curmudgeonly badgers, and soon it was revealed, sure enough, the badgerfolk that had made a home there had seen the slavers. The hermit had seen them raid a small caravan, too, some little group of nice-looking wagons that had obviously been intended to carry somebody important. As far as the badger knew, though, the slavers hadn't done any serious raiding beyond that - there's simply been no time from the moment they'd set up their primary base camp to the moment Rufus had set out to stop them in their tracks. If Rufus and his party kept up their current pace, Rufus figured that the slaver, Praxis, wouldn't get the chance, either. Not if he had anything to say about it.

As a cold camp was set up in the dark woods and jerky and hardtack were pulled out for a quick meal before bed, Cassidy hurried back into the midst of his party, his expression betraying the urgency of his message.

"There's someone close by!" he said in a loud whisper, loud enough to alert the entire camp without being heard beyond that. "Six of them. They're mostly human, I think, but there's an elf leading them, and one of them, a quick little figure I couldn't always see, had a tail. They've got the insignia of the Sisters of Glory on a lot of their gear, and they've got a ranger with them, some dark-skinned Matrakali girl. They're following our trail."

"Sisters of Glory, huh?" said Rufus with a smirk, not rising from where he'd settled in the roots of a tree. "That's a pretty militant group, sure, but they only hunt evil creatures." He shrugged, letting his eyes slowly close. "I don't think we qualify. If anything, we're probably on the same mission, and if they're good enough to track us, we could probably use their help."

"The coney kid's got a good reason to be worried," growled Urta as she got to her feet, curling her lip. "And so do the rest of us. If you hadn't noticed, chief, most of us here don't exactly qualify for the 'nice guys' list to a group of bigots like the Sisters of Glory."

Of course, Urta's experiences with an all-female band of holy crusaders would be quite different from Rufus' prior experiences, the hoary-furred wolfen realized, and rose swiftly to his feet, picking up his weapons and preparing his gear.

"Good thing we were playing it safe, and staying silent," he growled mostly to himself as he pulled on his armor, watching as the others geared up as well. "Otherwise we might never've noticed these she-hellions coming. What's our chances, Cassidy?"

"They're young," the rabbit reported. "But that's normal for a party of Sisters of Glory."

"Normal for most adventurers," snorted One-Eye with a nasty grin. "They make fun toys if you can catch 'em, but just 'cause they're young doesn't mean they can't kill you dead faster'n you can leer at 'em."

"They do look battle-hardened," Cassidy agreed. "And they've got that look about them. You can see it in their eyes: they're fanatics." He shuddered. "I don't know if we can talk them out of whatever they're planning if they decide we're the bad guys. They weren't stopping, either, while we were making camp - I think they plan on catching up to us in the night."

Rufus grunted at this news, then looked to the others, giving a short nod. At this sign, everyone gathered in close, knowing that battle was coming for them.

"Okay," he growled, keeping his voice low. "Here's what we're gonna do."

Path Choices

There is a chance of party death in this encounter. The Sisters of Glory adventuring party advancing upon us are young, but they are seasoned adventurers all the same, and while Rufus, Urta, and Urtan are strong combatants, Ryg has some significant magical ability, and Cassidy is a decent ranged combatant, the other gnolls are more shock and ambush troops than anything, and Spark isn't really that great in a fight. This puts us about equal to the opposing party in a fair fight.

A) Let's try talking to them first. After all, while some of our party might be...mortally questionable, our intentions right now are pretty good. Surely we can be allies rather than enemies. (30% and you may select another option in case this one fails; if you select only this option, I will assume you want a wholehearted diplomatic effort, and will increase the chance to 40% success, but the party will be flat-footed if it fails, and have a 45% chance of winning)

B) Sisters of Glory...great. Let's just book it. Sisters of Glory are the military wing of the celibate order of the Sisters of Radiance, and they're pretty hard-headed, to say the least. They especially like to smite evil first and detect evil second, so it's probably better if we just try to throw them off our trail, or, better yet, get them onto Praxis' trail instead. (70%, with option C occurring if this fails)

C) Might for might. Let's take these smooth-skins down, here and now. (50% and earns greater respect from the gnolls and whoever else might learn of the battle)

D) Ambush! They've got a skilled tracker, and a stealthy beastkin as well, but there's more of us here, and almost all of us are either natives of the area, or skilled in woodlore and stealth. Since we took it slower and stealthy, we've got some time to set up a nice surprise, complete with traps. (65%)

There are two additional choices:

1) Bring the badger. That badger hermit looked like a possible ally. If you want us to take on a new ally, indicate if you'd prefer the badgerfolk to be male or female. There is a 60% chance the badger agrees to join us, thanks to Spark's bardic and vulpine charisma.

2) Lethal or nonlethal? If we engage the approaching party without concern for their safety, we add 5% to our chances, but I will randomly determine which of them survive the conflict. On the other hand, if we choose to use nonlethal methods to take this all-female adventuring party alive (of which we have several), then we subtract 4% from our chances (down from 5% thanks to Ryg's presence - this option will improve by 1% each time we use it, succeed or fail), but all the girls will be taken captive on a success.