Misty Cries! - Booze & Barefeet
A stale breeze licked the still waters as it stumbled across the moat to Tekilia's party. The air wheezed as it passed through the City beneath the weight of its burden, carelessly spilling its load on anything it touched. The still stone walls sweat as intensely as the creatures and visitors within.
Tekilia's pale skin glistened like wet ivory in a globe of confused torchlight bouncing feverishly around the prism of shifting mist. Moisture beaded and slipped in thick rivulets along sweeping curves and into the dark crevices of her vulpine form. She cradled a bottle of honey mead affectionately in her lap, her legs folded, as she sat on the cool stone pavers in a coagulating puddle of green ooze. Lost in an inebriated daze, she stared blankly ahead and sniffed absently as she fingered the cork. It popped free, bounced off of something and landed in the moat below with a soft little
plup.
Smidgeon wiped the mead from the side of his head where the wet cork had struck him and gave his fingers a taste as Tekilia flung her head back and emptied the contents of the green bottle mostly into her mouth, a few generous portions escaping down her neck, into her hair, between her breasts, over her belly or into her pants. Smidgen smiled and gnawed at the cork of one of his bottles, tearing it free with his teeth. He took a few sips and replaced the cork. The mead was great, but his station demanded a
bit more propriety.
Clutching the empty bottle in one hand, Tekilia clamored to her feet. She swayed unsteadily in the unseen gail of need and inebriation. Her grip loosened and she was off, sprinting drunkenly toward the daw bridge.
Her party had been idle too long
"Wm pkllfng," she mumbled as she staggered away with the speed of the wolf.
Pokemorf slipped into the shadows. Ssazuk shed his robes and flesh; assuming the lithe form of death. Locked in his meditative trance, Zayinn made no move, his stony expression made more sinister by the harsh shadows wrought of the flickering torchlight and severe lines of his lean face.
Tekila stumbled across the bridge, riding the steady winds of intuition and experience through the assailing gales of slick surfaces and drunkenness. Her path meandered through the quagmire of inebriation from one side of he moat-walk to the other as she dashed past the empty rotunda on her way to the waters northern edge. The deviously playful honey mead lured her perilously close to the walk's edge at times, but intuition, lightning reflexes and the formidable counterweight her breathtaking bosom always ensured that her bare feet found their way nimbly beneath her as her limber body whipped in a new direction - away from the edge.
Tekilia lurched forward, scrunching her toes and stooping awkwardly with her ass in the air as she slid to a halt. A fog golem waited obliviously near the north bank if the moat. She straightened herself and stumbled back a few steps, slipping onto her ass as she hurled the empty mead bottle at the unsuspecting golem. She sat dazed only momentarily and was back on her feet sprinting drunkenly to her party before the empty jug even
thwacked quietly against the golems great clay bull neck.
"Yiu wre ni maxc foh Pu'Tang!" She barked as she raced away.
"A fug holim xonresys teh swpremakj of Pu'Tang! Het us rkin justice uxon tve barbarous dog!" She cried to her companions.
A phantom appeared as she blazed down the moat walk. Tekilia swung widely as she stumbled nimbly around it, spinning like a dancer as she slipped around the corner and blasted across the moat.
The phantom lagged well behind and the golem further yet as Tekilia reached her party. They all stood at the ready as she snatched up a fresh bottle of mead, uncorked it and thoroughly doused her magnificent bosom as she emptied the contents into her mouth. A look of grim determination settled on her pretty face as she wiped her chin and chucked the empty bottle into the moat.
Her pursuers were closing. She could hear them coming across the moat and flicked her head for a look as she tugged at her pants. Taunting her foes over her her shoulder, Tekilia managed to bare one ass cheek, slapping it sloppily as she goaded them.
"Cxme asn get id, BHTCIES!" She cried.
Aabdel shook his head disapprovingly, trying to suppress a smirk while he reprimanded Tekilia for the unruly display.
"You're not in college anymore Tekilia," he scolded.
Tekilia continued her drunken assault, swaying effortlessly between the flailing arms of the mindless wraith and its clay ally.
Before the golem dropped to the ground, Tekilia was off again, rushing towards the bridge with her ass cheek still hanging out.
Tekilia found the bridge to be wetter and slower than usual. She pondered the changes with the dozen or so IQ points unimpaired by her mead binge as she drifted onto her back. She struggled to right herself, but to no avail. She was in the moat and her beautifully buoyant breasts were reluctant to sink below the water's surface. Tekilia thrashed about furiously, obstinately protesting the will of the mutinous flesh and showering her group mates with the wild splashing before resigning herself to her fate.
Having been bested by her own breasts, Tekilia maneuvered skillfully through the water with a well-practiced backstroke. It was the only way she'd ever been able to swim, but even so, it still infuriated her every time she entered the water. She staggered onto the shore and grimaced at the pond scum stuck to her feet, between her toes and around her nails. [i] Damnit! She needed a pair of shoes :c[i] On the bright side, the dip had washed most of the ooze from her. It had started to dry and was becoming sticky and flaky and rather unpleasant, so she was most pleased to be rid of it.
Tekilia glanced around thoughtfully and paused to return her bare ass cheek to the modest refuge of her fine pants - not that much more was hidden behind the second skin now that she was completely soaked - before padding silent over to a plague bone skeleton. She tossed a shuriken at it and frowned as she trotted back towards camp. The spirit of wolf had abandon her and the swim had been unduly sobering.
Her heart leaped and her pace quickeened as Zyrom's soothing falsetto slipped into her ears, boring deep into her mind. She felt uplifted as she zipped around the corner at bard speed. She was lighter, quicker,
cleaner. She looked down as she dashed across the bridge and her eyes bulged with surprise. She was floating!
Like a dead man! she thought, though not entirely sure why. She had never actually seen or even heard of a dead man floating. Ssazuk had granted her one of the foul gifts of his art. She smiled. The night was young. There were spirits to liberate and adventures to be had.
And so it was that Tekilia Pu'Tang the Inebriated, Bane of Mistmoore, Butcher of Crushbone, Savior of Faydark, Defender of Freeport, Master Fister, Wearer of Fine Pants, Heir to the Throne of the Pu'Tang Empire, explored the depths of her love of good drink as she liberated the tortured souls of the City of Mist.