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Pathfinding: An Adult Choose Your Own Adventure

Eighty-ninth Entry

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Vote Tallies

1) Diplomacy -

2) Attack! -

3) The third option - 1 - Assassination and a supply line raid, successfully this time

4) Get the Warlord_to come to _us! - 1

5) Mount a rescue mission - 24 - the overwhelming majority

Scene of what happens to the prisoners? Y/N - 16/2

Author Notes

Also some votes added for trying to capture the slavers, and one for seducing the Warlord.

Pathfinding Eighty-ninth Entry

Cassidy knew instinctively that he didn't want to wake up. He was like a kid that just couldn't reach out to light a candle on a nearby nighstand, because doing so would have exposed his arm to whatever terrors lurked in the dark. A vision of glowing green eyes lingered with him, and somehow he knew the vision would become horrible reality the moment he let himself wake up.

"Oh get up," came a sultry, slightly disgruntled voice from somewhere nearby. "I know you're just faking, rabbit."

So much for that plan.

Opening his eyes, Cassidy took stock of his situation. Hmm, not especially good, actually. He was dangling by his wrists from a metal frame, his ankles similarly shackled in place. The chains holding him had a little give to them, so he could move around a little, but not enough to really do anything effective. Obviously he was intended to squirm.

His sensitive ears picking up the sounds of muffled moans, Cassidy squinted to see through the blue haze of smoke filling the tent where he hung. Not far off, he saw Shara on her back, squirming and gyrating and moaning loudly into a ball gag thrust firmly into her muzzle. On top of the prone foxtaur was one of the horned fox demons that had helped overwhelm Cassidy's teams, holding Shara's hind legs up and spread wide. Kneeling between those legs, his muzzle thrust firmly into the base of the "V" made by Shara's squirming jacklegs, another of the fox demons was happily slurping away at Shara's bared pink quim, his black-and-red bushy tail wagging happily, obviously having the time of his life.

"Worry about yourself, rabbit," said the sultry voice once more, and Cassidy felt a strong, taloned hand grip his chin, then turn him to face a pair of beautiful golden eyes. "After all, I'm the one who decides your fate. The silly vixen," the Warlord gestured dismissively toward Shara, "wouldn't talk, so I'm letting Praxis' goons have some fun, before they throw her to the spawnling. Oh, and before you ask, don't worry about the litter in her belly: a shot of the spawnling's cum should be enough to speed up her pregnancy, freeing her up for many more. And I promise that the kits born will be very well taken care of."

"What about the others?" Cassidy asked, his senses coming back in a snap, his mind kicking almost instantly into high gear. "What about Kaia, and Urla, and Wicker?"

"Don't trouble yourself, silly rabbit," the Warlord said teasingly, moving slightly to the side to allow Cassidy to see into the rest of the smoky tent interior. "The little deer is right over there, enjoying the tender mercies of Praxis herself."

Sure enough, there was Wicker, dangling from a similar metal frame like the one to which Cassidy was bound. As Cassidy looked over, he saw the flash of luminous green eyes as a piece of the darkness itself seemed to squeeze the sleek cervid teen's straining pink erection between its plump breasts, a deadly red tongue lashing out to flick over the seeping tip. Those eyes glanced in Cassidy's direction, meeting the captive lapida's with an expression of wicked triumph - Praxis was very deliberately tormenting Cassidy's apprentice, while her servitor demons ravished his mate, all in the name of twisted revenge. A flash of too-sharp teeth marked where the night-black panther's maw parted, before Wicker moaned loudly, his slender pink penis engulfed right to the hilt by the wicked slaver's mouth. Turning his head again, Cassidy saw that more fox demons were gathering around Shara, stroking their hands over her soft fur, squeezing her breasts, and occasionally licking bare patches of her helpless, naked body.

"As for the others," the Warlord continued, lifting a small golden orb in one mighty talon, then thrusting it under Cassidy's nose, taking up his entire attention, "I believe you can see their fate for yourself."

Looking into the orb, Cassidy did indeed see just what was happening to the others in the raiding party. A great pit had been dug in the middle of the ground covered by a very broad tent. Gathered around the pit were a host of the hordes of the Warlord: toadlike boggarts, hyenalike gnolls, porcine orcs, bandy-legged goblins, and other vile denizens of the world's wicked wastes. Forced together in a tight knot, right before a long plank thrust out over the pit, were the prisoners, all of them stripped naked, all of them staring in horror into the pit.

Leaning a little closer, Cassidy could see what horrified them so: it was the spawnling. The creature was a writhing mass of viscous black tentacles, dripping with strange and unholy slime. The slime was thickest and most copious around the phallic tips of each tentacle, which lifted eagerly, as though scenting the fresh victims near the top.

Two goblins were in the process of prodding Kaia forward, using blunt-tipped poles to shove against her toned bare bottom, forcing her steadily out onto the plank. The blue-haired elven paladin's body was flawless, Cassidy realized, looking at her from a more objective viewpoint through the golden orb. She was a living work of art, every sleek muscle, every quivering sinew, every lock of wavy deep blue hair in perfect place, and perfect condition. Now, a look of trepidation on her high-cheekboned face as she stared down into the tentacle-filled abyss, her wrists bound behind her back as the goblins behind her nudged her step-by-step toward her doom, Cassidy couldn't help but admire her all the more, as she fought to stay brave, even in the face of a fate far worse than death.

"My shamans tell me she has a foxkin's kit in her belly," the Warlord commented with a smirk. "Not a problem, of course: Praxis tells me that foxes always sell for premium prices on the auction block. One squirt of my spawnling's cum, and that gorgeous elfling will be dropping her baby, and ready to get filled up with another in mere hours. Of course, Praxis will have first choice of the finest offspring of your friends, from those that are presently pregnant. They'll mature faster as well, so Praxis will have plenty of the finest stock in a matter of only a few weeks."

An eerie hush had fallen over the assembled monstrosities viewed within the orb, as Kaia balanced right on the edge of the plank, wavering there in her bare feet. Then one of the goblins lunged forward, jabbing her right in the small of her back with his blunt-tipped pole, sending her tumbling forward, into the pit with the spawnling.

Instantly, several thick tentacles lashed upward, wrapping around Kaia's legs, while another caught hold of her waist, holding her up, suspended in midair. Then the tentacles let her swing down and forward, her head facing toward the pit, her legs thrust up, and soon spread far apart by the tentacles gripping them. The elfgirl's full, perfect breasts heaved and bounced as she fought and struggled, while the humanoids all around the pit howled and cheered at the spawnling, urging it onward, even as it raised a phallic-tipped tentacle from its mass, lifting it over Kaia's spread legs, and then positioning it right before the tense, dewy folds of her elfsmooth cunny.

Like the strike of a scorpion's tail, the tentacle suddenly lunged downward, thrusting deep, deep into Kaia's quivering quim. Her eyes opening as wide as saucers, the elfgirl's mouth dropped open, before her entire body arched as the tentacle started to thrust, a loud wail finally forced from her lips as her body jerked and gyrated in midair. Other tentacles swiftly joined the first, and in seconds Kaia's cries were cut off as her mouth was stuffed full of heavily-leaking black tentacle, followed moments later by her tense elven bottom, while a second and then a third joined the first in plundering her ripe young body, preparing her for a life as a breeding slave for the Warlord's army.

Already, a few orcs were forcing Phan, Hanaro's younger sister, to her feet, before the two goblins started prodding the lithe, petite Cho-Lini girl toward the plank as well. Despite looking doom in the face, and seeing her own fate illustrated by the desperate midair struggles of Kaia as one tentacle squirted a hefty load of thick, black cum into her cunny, only to pull out, still spurting black jism on her belly and breasts, Phan fought to maintain her composure, her head held high, back straight, small, conical breasts thrust straight out before her. Even as an especially greedy tentacle reached out to wrap around her waist before she'd even reached the end of the plank, lifting her out over the writhing mass of the spawnling, more tentacles swiftly rising, aimed straight toward her vulnerable orifices, the pale-skinned beauty refused to show any fear, right up to the last.

"Such fun," the Warlord sighed happily, pulling the orb away from Cassidy's view, and gazing down into it with fondness as red-haired Zane was forced to join Phan, the young mageling suspended on all-fours above the pit, the dimples of her lower back visibly flexing as she was filled from every side. "You know, I always hand over only the finest of breeding stock to the spawnling. Every girl in my harem goes into the pit at least once, and almost all the boys as well, so they can be milked of their seed. All the better to breed only the finest troops."

"Then why aren't I with the others?" asked Cassidy, arching an eyebrow. "Am I not good enough?"

The Warlord blinked at the question, then grinned.

"Oh, you're good enough, little rabbit," she assured the tan-furred lapida, stroking one sharp-taloned hand through the fur of his tightly-muscled chest and belly. "More than good enough, from all accounts - after all, you were able to slay Praxis. That's very hard to do."

"I didn't make the hellcat stay dead, though," Cassidy added with a slight pout.

"Oh, there's no shame in that," giggled the Warlord, leaning in to lick Cassidy's nose. "Praxis has...deals with things in the lower reaches of the planes. One of those deals is that he...or she, depending, doesn't get to stay there for very long. Of course, the transition back into this world tends to produce the most interesting changes in dear Praxis' body, but I suppose my dear panther feels it's a small price to pay for a sort of immortality."

"Hence the boobs," Cassidy concluded, making the Warlord giggle again.

"Yes, exactly," she agreed, now smiling at the rabbit. "I think I like you, rabbit. You're very handsome, actually, now that I'm looking right at you. Most of the time, it's hard to really focus on you, though - much easier to just let the eyes slide right over you. Your name is Cassidy, isn't it?"

"That's right," Cassidy affirmed. "You know, you don't have to force me to do anything: if you'll let me go, I'll do what you want freely."

"And risk having you escape?" the Warlord laughed, her brow-ridges raising. "How foolish do you think I am?"

"Not very," Cassidy replied with as much of a shrug as his present position allowed. "That's why I figured you'd be willing to let me free. After all, where am I going to go in the middle of the Warlord's camp? Especially when you've got my friends as prisoners, or hostages. Under the circumstances, I think I'd much rather keep you happy than risk anything foolish."

Regarding Cassidy with a critical air, the Warlord rubbed her chin for several long moments. Then, her lips spreading into a wide smile, she snapped her fingers, and immediately the shackles holding Cassidy to the metal frame clicked open, letting him drop to the ground.

Taking a few moments to rub his wrists and ankles, getting the circulation back into them, Cassidy looked up...and right down the more-than-significant barrel of the Warlord's throbbing, gold-scaled erection. For only another moment, Cassidy hesitated, his lips slightly parted in surprise. Then he looked up at the Warlord, and leaned forward, planting a soft kiss right on the swollen, bulbous tip of the dragoncock before him.

Opening his lips more, and more still, Cassidy started bobbing his head, forward and back, taking just a little bit more of the Warlord's penis into his mouth with each forward bob. All the while, the Warlord simply smiled down at Cassidy, a soft, low purr rising from her throat at the attention he was lavishing on her solid length.

Losing himself in his efforts to provide the best blowjob he'd ever given anyone, Cassidy let his eyes grow heavy-lidded, his mind steadily losing all its thoughts. He wanted his mind blank, empty of everything except for the desire to please the Warlord, just in case some sort of thought detection was used on him. After all, he didn't want the Warlord to know what he'd seen in that golden orb, something he was fairly sure the Warlord herself hadn't noticed.

Cassidy had seen Urla, near the back of the group of prisoners, surreptitiously fumbling with a magic message tube. Where she'd managed to hide it, Cassidy could only guess, but there it was, a piece of magic commonly used by the elves when their scouts were caught before they could reach a destination. When twisted the right way, it immediately sent a message of the sender's current status and location to the nearest elven commander. In this case, that meant General Wintersteel, one of the finest strategic minds Cassidy had ever encountered (though Cassidy did place Adel's mind quite high in his personal ranking). Once the message was received, it was only a matter of time before help would be on the way.

Giving a soft _gasp_for air as he was suddenly jerked back, off of the Warlord's heavily-leaking shaft, Cassidy looked up at the Warlord's face, his expression filled with concern that he'd somehow displeased his mistress in some way. The Warlord, however, only shook her head slightly, an answer to Cassidy's unspoken question, before she seated herself on a nearby stool. A single nod of her head was all it took for Cassidy to figure out what she wanted now, and he immediately moved to comply...even though it had been quite a while since the last time he'd done this.

Placing his hands on the Warlord's inner thighs, Cassidy climbed into the dragonfemme's lap. It wasn't until this moment that Cassidy - a little less than two-thirds the height of Rufus - realized fully just how _big_the Warlord really was. Rufus, of course, was a big male. The Warlord, however, was easily head and shoulders and well-endowed chest taller than Rufus. She had broader shoulders, too, and her physique was even more muscular. Not even Windtooth, Rufus' positively massively-built father, had a body as mighty as the Warlord's.

Not letting himself be intimidated by size, Cassidy turned, facing away from the Warlord on her lap, before setting his large feet firmly on her thighs, using them for support. Taking a long, deep breath, Cassidy reached down, gripping the upper part of the stiff golden dragonstaff directly beneath him, holding it nice and steady. Still breathing deeply, taking each breath nice and slow, Cassidy partially closed his eyes, his ears folding back against his head and neck as he lowered himself down. In this position, he knew the Warlord could perfectly see the heart-shaped swell of his firmly toned, rounded bunny butt. While Cassidy wasn't the sort to take much pride in his physique, modest as he knew it was, he did take more than a little pride in his bottom, which he knew was as finely-chiseled and flawlessly-sculpted as any lapida's that he'd ever known. A rabbit's greatest strength was in its back end, and for a lapida, the principle was still the same, leading the rabbitfolks' bottoms to be quite well-developed. People with a liking for a well-formed rump were quite often to be found among the lapida, who were known, as a race, to have some of the best butts of all the races of Therafim.

Feeling the heavy, girthy head of the Warlord's cock prod his backside, Cassidy silently prayed that he'd managed to lubricate the dragoncock beneath him enough with his spit. Still fighting to keep his breathing under strict control, Cassidy started to ease himself down, feeling his tailhole start to pry apart under the slow, steady pressure of gravity and Cassidy's own determination.

BOOM!

With a startled squeak, Cassidy went tumbling to the tent floor as the Warlord started up, her lips curling back in a furious snarl.

"Who dares interrupt the Warlord at play?" she bellowed in fury, tearing open the door to the tent, and raging out into the early evening. Praxis, Cassidy noted with more than a little annoyance, did not follow, nor did her fox demons, though they did leave off molesting Cassidy's friends, if only for a little while.

More explosions, and the clash of arms could be heard all around the tent, and Cassidy continued to crouch where he'd fallen, his ears lifted, taking in all the sounds, then giving them meaning within his head. The explosions were magic spells, and something more...the secret weapons of the Steampunk Trio, perhaps? It would certainly explain the strange whistling noises that preceded some of the explosions. The fighting, meanwhile, seemed localized, concentrating around only one part of the Warlord's camp. Perhaps where the spawnling was housed, Cassidy reasoned, and where the majority of the prisoners were being kept. But would those same attackers be able to find him and Shara and Wicker? Judging from the sounds of the fighting, they were all pretty far away...

RRRRRRRIIIIIIIP!

In a thrice, the flap of the tent was torn away, and a gleaming figure stepped into the dim, smoke-hazed light. Blinking a few times to adjust to the glare from the sunset behind the slender, feminine figure, Cassidy took a moment to realize who it was he was seeing. Then it hit him: he was looking at...

"So, Crystal," Praxis intoned sibilantly, stalking toward the crystalline automaton, "you've turned fully to the other side. No matter: I know just how to turn you back, the same as I always have."

"Release your prisoners," said Crystal in a neutral tone, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she was outnumbered five-to-one. "Desist in your actions, or I will be forced to subdue you."

"Hardly a way to speak to your master, Crystal," Praxis chuckled, clawtips gleaming with metal as they were unsheathed. "Oh yes, I am still your master, and don't you ever forget it. No matter how many times you might be taken from me, in the end, you'll always be my - YAH!"

Sparks flew at Praxis' claws scraped against Crystal's suddenly upraised arm. It was obvious the wicker she-panthress hadn't expected the upgrades the crystalline automaton had received from the Steampunk Trio. Where once she'd been merely a fragile receptacle of knowledge, a walking, talking collection of Praxis' accounts and occasional pleasure outlet, now Crystal was more than well-equipped for combat. Her body was infused with thousands of tiny filaments, giving her a metallic sheen in the right angle of light, providing her with exquisite armor almost the equal to a mounted knight. Her fingers had been reinforced as well as equipped with metal tips, making them razor-sharp and more than sturdy enough to turn a blade. The filaments in her body also provided Crystal with greater strength and speed than she'd had before, as Praxis soon discovered as her former enslaved automaton easily met the devil-panthress, blow for blow, deflecting each attack in turn.

As the fox demons swarmed forward, eager to join the fray and back up their leader, another figure stepped up behind Crystal, his bulk filling up the entryway.

It was Rufus.

"You're not getting away this time, Praxis," stated the wolfen with a light curl of his lips. "Slingers, get 'em!"

Instantly, rocks whizzed past Rufus, and the fox demons wailed and fell back as they were pelted with buzzing river rocks, smooth and deadly. Two of the four fox demons vanished as the marks hit home, wounds that would have killed a mortal creature simply sending the fox demons back to their home plane. Of the other two, one went down in a tangle as his leg was struck, while the other suddenly fell to his knees, lifting his hands in supplication, and began begging for mercy. Almost as soon as the first words left the fox demon's mouth, the stones stopped flying.

"Coward!" snarled Praxis, before turning and leaping in a flash toward Cassidy, intent on seizing the rabbit as a hostage. Cassidy, however, rolled with the leap, tumbling onto his back as Praxis surged on top.

It should be noted once more that a lapida's best feature is his bottom. As an addendum, the legs attached to that bottom are amazingly strong as well. Cassidy proved this bit of racial lore by slamming his large feet full into Praxis' stomach, sending the naked, black-furred she-demon flying into the central tent pole with a loud bonk. Stunned, the hellcat slowly sank to the ground on her shapely feline rump. Rufus didn't give the slaver a chance to recover, and in moments Praxis was rolled over on her stomach, the muscular wolfen lashing stout leather thongs around her wrists and ankles.

"C'mon," Rufus called, tossing the bound and gagged Praxis over one shoulder, then scooping up the two fox demons as well, tucking them both under one thick-thewed arm. "Cut the others free, and let's get out of here."

[60% chance of success - rolled 22 - Success! We're bustin' outta here!]

Cassidy didn't need to be told twice. Wicker was still good to go, but Wicker and Cassidy had to work together to support Shara, who'd had a very rough time indeed in the clutches of the fox demons. All the same, with a small company of halfling irregulars covering their retreat, the little band managed to make their way to the camp perimeter, and out into the long shadows of the falling night.

"The others hit the far side of the camp," Rufus explained as they continued to run. "Torched the spawnling pretty good, too, while getting Kaia and Urla and their people out. It's still alive, more's the pity, but it's not gonna be sticking a good number of its tentacles into anybody for a long time. And that's not all we torched," he added, pausing for a moment at the top of a rise, then turning back to look toward the long trail leading out of the southern end of the camp. "Look over there, Cassidy. Yeah, there, right where that caravan you didn't quite stop is holed up. You see it?"

"Yeah?" answered Cassidy, squinting a little to make out the shapes of the caravan wagons. An instant later, he had to cover his eyes, as the night was suddenly filled with a brilliant light, almost as bright as a second sun.

"No you don't," laughed Rufus, before turning, and continuing his race away from the camp, toward safety. "Those three little geniuses are the best thing that ever happened to the Blue Feather Alliance."

[15 against a 50% chance of success on a surgical strike to finish what Cassidy's group began - a second success!]

Path Choices

1) Diplomacy - Why not talk? - 45%

2) Attack - Why not fight? - 50%

3) Get the Warlord to come to us - we're on equal footing, after all - 40%

4) The Third Option - yes, I know it's actually the fourth option - Will vary by suggestion

Finally, what will we do with our prisoners? Please feel free to make suggestions.