With a suitably strong name, Kara awakens, the Goddess’s instructions ringing in her ears. The crackle of a makeshift firepit warms her and illuminates the tiny, damp cave her avatar has apparently made her home — she’s on a bedroll of stuffed straw flanked by a ratty old crate.
Kara, with her tortoiseshell hair, springs right up, eager to get into it. If she’s to forge an Empire — and, let’s be honest, that’s the route she’ll take — then there’s no time to waste. Besides, a cave is no place for one as beautiful as her.
The one thing she does before leaving is take stock, inventory. The crate contains a stone dagger (not even iron?!), four copper coins, and a stale bread bun. Sayla didn’t see fit to give her any kind of extradimensional storage space, so she has to make due with the leather satchel slung over her shoulder. Other than that, the only thing on her is a set of roughspun rags that she instantly associates with beggars.
Well… Okay. She’ll need to figure out some kind of inventory spell for when she’s rich and loaded up with ancient +3 Longswords. The cock spell was intuitive enough back in Sayla’s pocket dimension; unfortunately, as she closes her eyes and searches her mental library, the only other spell Kara finds is a basic Firebolt. (Better offense than the piddly stone knife, at least.)
A step out of the cave reveals a rolling field of vibrant green grasses swaying like banners in a gentle breeze. The cave itself is set in the foothills of a sunbleached red mountain, and from the slight elevation Kara spies a hamlet in the distance, a cluster of thatch roofed buildings under the shadow of a three-storey stone church, its belltower tolling like a distant drum.
Across the field, she marches — she knows a tutorial town when she sees one. As she walks, she organises her priorities.
1: Find a map. If this place is in a decent position, it could be the start of her power base. It’s not much, certainly, but a few similarly sized towns nearby would give her a few decent targets for expansion.
Kara doesn’t even need to be overt, at this stage, and it’s likely better to pull the strings from the shadows if the territory belongs to a Kingdom that could smack her down in a second.
2: On that note, she needs to know the current balance of power. Kingdoms, Empires, local Lords. Some history would be good — but if this world lacks widespread literacy she’ll need to ransack the church for books.
3: Find something nice to eat. The bread will hold her over while she attends to the more important things, but when she goes out to win her followers she intends to have a full stomach.
4: Find said followers. An adventurer would be good, a mage even better. Anyone with strength is good. The bureaucrats and administrators will come later.
5: Get laid. There are certain demands with championing the Goddess of Passion, and each step only increases her need. (No wonder the previous champions have all failed — as her desire rises, her reason plummets.)
The entire hierarchy suddenly inverts as Kara’s walking beside a quaint wooden fence — in the field it bounds, the sheep graze peacefully, and in their midst stands a gorgeous shepherd with chestnut hair and tits bigger than her own — almost as big as the Goddess’s. Even from such a distance, Kara feels her need, knows instantly that this poor girl has longed for something beyond this place, understands that she climbs to the top of the barn each night and looks out at the horizon, waiting for the day when her shining knight will come to take her away.
Well, she probably wasn’t expecting it to happen like this, but then it’s a day for the unexpected.
Kara leaps the fence easily and stalks across the field. The farmhouse and barn are far-off specks, and she hardly even needs to use her formidable stealth. I suppose this is my equivalent of a Level 1 slime, or a goblin with a shortbow.
She emerges from the high grass and waves. The shepherd turns to her, and from up close she can appreciate the soft, kind features of her face — her sweet blue eyes and plump lips. At a glance she seems to be in her early 20s, maybe a few years older than Kara, whose age was set to 20. The stranger opens her mouth and speaks, an utterly unintelligible string of garbled syllables.
You must be fucking kidding me; Sayla didn’t think to give me any language skill? It’s this that reminds Kara to take stock of all her attributes and skills, not just her spells, but now isn’t the time. She raises a hand, hoping she comes across as friendly, and says, “You probably can’t understand me, huh?”
The shepherd’s face lights up in surprise. She responds with another nonsense sentence, and all the two have managed to communicate is that they can’t communicate. Well. That’s alright. There are other ways of doing things.
Fortunately, with her lithe body and fluffy ears, Kara doesn’t appear much of a threat, and the shepherd makes no effort to stop her approach. She smiles; the shepherd smiles back. She points at herself and says, “Kara. Ka-ra. Ka-ra.”
With a bright smile and a nod, the shepherd replies, “Lily. Li-ly.”
“Kara.” She points to herself. “Lily.” She points to her. It’s a start. Kara makes no effort to hide her eyes running up and down Lily’s body, wondering how sexy she must surely be under her loose-fitting grey frock. Lily, who has only ever received such attention from a passing merchant’s son a few years ago, blushes, for it’s the first time she’s discovered a woman can feel that way about another.
Staring at the shepherd stirs a twitch in Kara’s roughspun pants, which is strange. She didn’t cast the spell. But as she attunes herself to her body she realises, indeed, the cock is still there, and slowly hardening. Shit. Must’ve become permanent — maybe because I had the spell up when she sent me down? Strange I didn’t notice earlier, but, oh well. At least I’ve got some practice using it.
Two hands go to Lily’s hips. Kara luxuriates in the warmth of her body and the heat of the sun — it feels right. The shepherd politely puts a hand on Kara’s wrist to push her away, but she digs in tighter. She surges forward, kisses her, pleasure exploding across her mind.
Lily, stunned, freezes up. She doesn’t return the kiss, but doesn’t fight it either. She’s aware, in some part of her, that there’s every reason to run away as fast as she can: cavorting with Beastkin doesn’t get you a one-way ticket to the gallows, but it is frowned upon, and her father would be furious. Even worse, this is a cat girl, and the Church of Thala teaches that such things are reserved for a man and his wife — two unmarried women is worth double the sin.
Still, it kindles something within her. Kara’s lips are soft, tender, and the gentle grind of her hips brings forbidden pleasure.
For Kara, her commitment to Sayla is mostly forgotten. This might give Lily some new appreciation for Passion, in all its beautiful forms, but that would be incidental — she just needs to get off, frankly, can’t stand to see this girl and then not have her.
The bleating of sheep finally breaks the kiss. The source of their fear is visible for only a moment before disappearing into the grass — a band of three goblins, vaulting the fence like sheep counted in bed.
Kara, swifter than an arrow, throws Lily into the dirt and stands over her, scanning the rustling grass for the green bastards. Fire crackles in her hand, the spell ready to loose. Bound to provide useful data, she thinks. Let’s see if I can get stronger the traditional way — even if I don’t, she’s sure to reward me for saving her flock. With any luck three goblins will be enough for a Level Up, and with any luck a Level Up will be enough for a new language.
Let’s fucking do this.