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>>6371467

The climate doesn't really demand it, but you still look through the drawers of the atelier to find something to wear. The last thing you need is for someone respectable to come about and mistake you for a perverted exhibitionist. You eventually settle on a simple toga that hangs off one shoulder and covers everything that needs to be covered. The lack of undergarments is something you will need to address at a later date, but at the very least you're no longer running around naked.

The one thing you cannot find no matter where you look is a pair of shoes, or even socks and sandals.

Seriously, what were you thinking, not keeping those stocked?

A pair of silver anklets do the job after you layer on a protective enchantment, but the lack of footwear is... well, you thought they would look nice when the Mark One Elven Beauty was just going to warm your bed and look pretty. Walking around as her, though, makes the lack of footwear feel immodest, at least to some extent. It's something you can live with for the time being, but as soon as you can, you want to obtain a pair of shoes.

What's the first thing you do?
>Refamiliarize yourself with the layout of your villa and atelier
>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with
>Put your new body through its paces and see what it's capable of physically
>Craft yourself up a copy of your Standard Adventuring Gear so you're not caught unprepared
>Take an inventory of what supplies and equipment you have on hand.
>(Write in)

Incidentally, what is your preferred way of fighting?
>Unarmed martial arts
>Swordsmanship
>Polearms
>Hammer and Axe
>Archery
>Magical Spells
>Qi Techniques
>Gun
>(Write In)

>>6371467
Similar premise to Shattered Phylactery, except we're now an elf, I guess? Serie even. And with the cultivation influences too.

>>6371468
>Refamiliarize yourself with the layout of your villa and atelier
>Magical Spells

We're Serie now, I guess.

>>6371468
>Refamiliarize yourself with the layout of your villa and atelier
>>6371468
>Hammer and Axe

>>6371468
>Craft yourself up a copy of your Standard Adventuring Gear so you're not caught unprepared
And shoes please

>>6371474
Now that you mention it, it is remarkably similar in concept, except the tone is pretty different and Shattered Phylactery doesn't have a genderbend element

>>6371478
Don't forget to vote for our fighting style. True.

>>6371479
Oh right thanks

>>6371478
Let's try
>Qi Techniques
Let's give our soul shenanigans some of that good old Chinese flavor text

>>6371468
>Put your new body through its paces and see what it's capable of physically

>Swordsmanship
With a rapier

>>6371468
>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with

>Hammer and Axe

>>6371468
>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with
>Swordsmanship

It's a vacation world, we should first enjoy the beach

>>6371468
>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with
Obviously the first thing you do with a hot elven body is to flaunt it

>Polearms

>>6371468
>Refamiliarize yourself with the layout of your villa and atelier
>Unarmed martial arts
We were a sumo wrestler in our past life.

>>6371468
>Refamiliarize yourself with the layout of your villa and atelier
First things first. Plus, we need shoes before we see anyone else. For dignity's sake.

>Qi Techniques

>>6371468
>>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with
>>Hammer and Axe

>>6371468
>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with
>Gun
Gun mage

>>6371481
Voting this. If this doesn't win, QM, put my vote for any with the qi technique option.

>>6371468
>Explore the surrounding area and see what neighbors you'll need to deal with

>Hammer and Axe

Rolled 64 (1d100)

Calling the vote for now. Axe+Hammer and Exploring your surroundings wins. Rolling the d100 for what you encounter.

>>6371474
>Similar premise to Shattered Phylactery, except we're now an elf, I guess? Serie even. And with the cultivation influences too.
I don't know anything about Shattered Phylactery, so any similarities are coincidental
>>6371493
>It's a vacation world, we should first enjoy the beach
It is not a vacation world. Those worlds would generally have more control from the Jade Star Empire, effectively being entire planets or orbitals that serve as dedicated resorts for high paying clients. It is a world, or at least a region of a world that has a good climate for relaxation and summer fun. Rinaldo's original plan for this place was to have it as a hidden get-away where he would come around to get spoiled by hot elven homunculi who cater to his every whim.
>>6371520
>Obviously the first thing you do with a hot elven body is to flaunt it
Phenomenally based, though the board would ban the quest if proper flaunting occurred.
>>6371559
>We were a sumo wrestler in our past life.
Rinaldo was not chonky enough to be a sumo wrestler. He may or may not have been half dwarf, however. Being turned into a relatively short elven women with a distinct master of the hidden buxom technique has not thrown off his internal balance that much, he was a short king.

>>6371478
>>6371479
Wait, wasn't Atrebor an immortal *King*, and is now in a female body? Or did I misunderstand that part of both threads?

>>6371676
No yeah the opening premise is almost identical lol— MC discovers how to transfer their soul into other bodies, is killed for other reasons, and is forced to reincarnate into a prepared backup body with blonde hair and golden eyes in the remote and desolate location of one of their hidden workshops. Basically beat for beat lol

>>6371678
It's revealed that "King" is a gender neutral political title in Atrebor's original country (or at least its implied by name dropping a female King) and that Atrebor's first life was as a girl. It was something of a twist though

>>6371676
>Phenomenally based, though the board would ban the quest if proper flaunting occurred.
As opposed to improper flaunting? I'm sure being unused to a female clothing can lead to accidents such as nip slips occuring

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Explore the Island
Axe and Hammer

Before you get to exploring the island you arm yourself with the tools of civilization.

The axe and hammer you find hanging on the weapon rack in your atelier are not your pride and joy, for those were confiscated by the Jade Star Emperor and added to the royal armory upon your arrest. These are simpler things. Still enchanted - you are the Great Artificer Rinaldo mac Tamera after all - but not to the same extent. The axe you once carried could fell a hundred trees with a single swing of your arm, and your favorite hammer could crush a boulder twenty meters wide into gravel with the same effort.

These tools are inferior. The like you would make for a rush job, where the quality desired by the client was in the quantity of the tools you could craft rather than the individual performance of each one. They are not unworthy things, for even in bulk orders you refused to produce factory pressed slop like so many of your peers, but they are not your finest tools by any means. The edge this axe could only fell a single tree with a swing, whilst the hammer only held the strength within it to crush a boulder one meter wide at best.

That said, they can serve their secondary purpose just as well. You learned the way of the axe and the hammer from Thorag Hendersen himself, the Mountain King of Vulkan Orbital and a smith of unparalleled skill and character.

To tell it true, you do not love violence. Nor are you one of those monkeys who fight with their bare fists or throw their lifeforce around like the spirit beasts that migrate between the planes, and then claim their brutality a high spiritual art. You have not the patience to weave the flow of the cosmos into actualized mysteries in the heat of battle, nor the desire to spend time mastering your breath and shaping it into esoteric technique of the sword, bow, and spear.

Yet all the same, should anyone accost you upon your explorations this morning, you are well equipped to defend yourself. You will simply turn the tools that build civilization against your enemies and crush them.

With your hammer and your axe tucked safely away in your toga's Sleeve of Holding, you head outside. where a boardwalk will lead you down to the beach or around the property. You have lived for so long and came to own so many little cottages and manors that at first you don't recall where this place could be. After all, the Mark One Elven Beauty was your favorite model of homunculus for serving as assistant, servant, and companion. Your home at the Cradle had nearly a score of them, all in lovely maid outfits, so having one in a growth vat doesn't exactly make this place unique.

Fortunately, following the boardwalk's path around the perimeter shakes loose the old memories. Most of your summer homes sat on the periphery of the Jade Star Empire's territory, simply to make it harder for your liege to call you back in for work while you were resting.

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>>6371733
You'll need to see a star map to know exactly where you are, but you do remember this place.

A nameless villa - more of a cottage with some additional amenities really - it sits alone on a small island in what the locals call the Middle Sea, just within sight of one of their larger cities. You came to an agreement with the rulers of that city centuries ago, that in exchange for the island you would build a lighthouse and keep it lit, to guide their sailors back to shore. They would also pay you something of a pittance for the service, a single ounce of silver each day to cover the costs of maintenance and labor.

The last time you visited this place was to change the bulb on the lighthouse a century ago. From what you can see, as the boardwalk circles the island, that old bulb is still shining bright and should have a few more decades of life left in it before you need to change it again.

The island is just as you remember it.

The lighthouse you built sits on the most prominent hill, whilst your cottage and atelier sit at the crown of its second. There's a third hill - broader and shorter compared to those two - upon which a small vineyard has been built, and olive trees line the paths that wind between the two great buildings. The groves and the gardens appear tended well with mechanical precision, and in the distance you can see a mechanical reaper that you vaguely recall constructing caring for the grapevines.

A freshwater pond bubbles up from a spring at the center of the island, with a stream running downhill until it comes to a s drop and falls into the ocean. There should be some fish stocked there, as you recall, and it looks like the waterfall has gotten low enough over the centuries that some sea-fish like salmon might be using it as a spawning pool.

As you approach the lighthouse, you can see the sails of triremes and galleys heading into the harbor of a white marble city, whose greatest towers are just within your view. So too is the hill upon which the local rulers built their castle. It is nothing compared to the palace of the Jade Star Emperor, built upon the greatest mountain range to be found upon the Cradle, but for a civilization that has yet to master golemcraft and the technologies of higher physics it is quite impressive.

Your lighthouse, in comparison, is a triviality.

Oh, it is taller than any of their towers, to be sure, but you cheated with the materials. Liquid witchstone reinforced with galvanized beams of adamant set within the mould, your own tools would have great difficulty in deconstructing it. Especially now, when all you have are a surplus hammer and axe from a set that you produced in bulk. Rising easily to a height of a hundred meters, it may as well be a fortress castle in and of itself. The weapons of your neighbors could certainly never pierce its outer shell, and it will weather millennia before its walls need maintenance.

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>>6371735
That's why you built it as you did. Civilization is built upon structures like your lighthouse, where cheap and plentiful materials can be used to create monuments that will pass through the ages until the name of its creator has passed out of history. Artifice that does not endure the corrosive passage of time is not something worth creating!

Of course, everything that makes it wonderful fills your heart with rage once you catch sight of its current occupants.

Goblins.

That wretched and rapacious species of pests appear to have made themselves a nest inside of your lighthouse while you were gone. The ward against monsters that you set upon the tower should have kept the vile creatures out of your property, but you can think of a number of ways they could have gotten around it. Mostly likely, their shamans made some hapless sap into a thrall and commanded them to remove the wardstones to grant them a path inside.

They probably tried to break into your cabin as well and turn that place into one of their nests. Unfortunately for them, the wards you placed upon your residence were far more lethal than the ones you placed upon the lighthouse. A lethal shock of electricity, followed shortly by your mechanical reaper disposing of the corpses, that would have been the fate of any goblin who had tried to break in.

"Clever little bastards," you growl, eyeing the light at the top of the tower. Goblins are an enemy of civilization who love nothing more than to foul up and break works of artifice. They can hold back, though, if doing so would alert civilized folk to their presence. "You left the light on so that the city wouldn't send anyone to exterminate the rats..."

You count the ones outside to number twelve.

Based on your knowledge of how these pests work, there's probably five times that number in the nest, if not more than that. With your old tools of civilization, such a paltry number would have been easy to sweep away. With your current tools, you've still confidence that you can root these pests out. Though you do consider the Mountain King's words, that battles are won before you draw steel, not afterwards.

How do you approach rooting out these wretched goblins?
>Cleave and smite until it is done.
>Get in contact with the city on the mainland and see what support they can send.
>Return home and craft more tools of civilization to enlighten these wretch beasts.
>Attempt to gather more information about their position and relative strength before you act.
>(Write In)

>>6371739
>>Cleave and smite until it is done.
Why complicate things

>>6371739
>Cleave and smite until it is done.

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Before I go to sleep for the night here's a map of the island:

>>6371739
>>6371764
+1

>>6371739
>Return home and craft more tools of civilization to enlighten these wretch beasts.

>>6371676
>Rinaldo was not chonky enough to be a sumo wrestler. He may or may not have been half dwarf, however.
May our bearded ancestors forgive us for coming back as an elf.

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And here's a doodle of the cottage floorplan.

>>6371739
>Attempt to gather more information about their position and relative strength before you act.

>>6371739
>Attempt to gather more information about their position and relative strength before you act.
Knowledge is power, y’all.

>>6371739
>>Cleave and smite until it is done.

Rolled 95 (1d100)

Calling it for Cleave and smite until it is done and rolling for how that goes

>>6372099
Nothing like getting our hands bloody

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There is no need for you to complicate things. You have two perfectly good tools of civilization upon your person and a toga stitched with protective runes strong enough to stop a bullet driven by mundane gunpowder. Taking your time and putting together a full kit for battle would make the task smoother and easier, but there is no world under heaven where an infestation of five score goblins would pose you an actual threat.

Not without the presence of a goblin king, and these savages don't show the signs.

There weapons are rusted and blunt. Their armor non-existent save for scraps of stinking furs and rotting leather. Their organization is loose and haphazard, scattered clumps of two or three picking berries and patrolling the boardwalk, out of formation and not covering eachother's blind spots. They don't even notice your first move, crushing one of them with your hammer and cleaving the head from the shoulders of its partner with a single swing of your axe.

They sure notice when you toss that head towards the guards keeping watch over the main entrance to the lighthouse. When you stalk out from the forest with the bearing of a hungry wolf, the tools of civilization in your hands. Your hammer is a blunt and heavy thing meant to shape steel from base ingots into something useful. Your axe is broad of blade, near a half-moon crescent, kept keen to strip bark from the logs that it was forged to fell.

For a moment it looks like the goblins will scatter.

For a moment it looks like the goblins will charge you.

You do not allow the pests the initiative. Before they can move you are fast upon the gatherers, cracking their skulls like bloody eggs and cleaving their bodies in twain with the same ease that you might crush a bug beneath your boot. An ease you don't remember feeling those rare times you dealt with such infestations yourself. A testament to your design of the body your soul now occupies, that beneath its pleasantly soft and pillowy exterior there lay a core of strength that far exceeded what your body could achieve.

The Mark One Elven Beauty was designed for companionship, to have a body pleasant to hug... among other things. It was designed for aesthetics, to look fetching in a maid outfit as the homunculi went about their duties maintaining your residences and serving your guests. It was designed for hygiene, for ease of cleaning and the avoidance of foul odors that biological processes often create, and instead always vaguely smell of flowers.

Oh, and it was also designed for protection, having strength enough to subdue anyone or anything that would attempt to invade your private property, speed enough to do so quickly, and grace enough to do it without leaving a single one of its golden hairs out of place.

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>>6372137
It takes three and a half seconds for the head you threw at the goblin guards to land at their feet. One second for it to reach the height of its arc and catch the eye of all the goblins outside the lighthouse. By that point you already blitzed the remaining goblins that were out frolicking in your garden and stealing the wild fruits from your vines, the tools of civilization leaving them broken and crumpled corpses good only for rendering into fertilizer for your fields.

As you turn towards the ones on the boardwalk, two spears impale the ground where you had emerged from the forest.

Quick of them, but not quick enough. You dance across the grass, your bare feet barely touching the ground with each step cushioned by a pillow of soft force. Moving like a whirlwind you crush them and cleave them, breaking their skulls like melons on the beach and splitting them like firewood, logs too bent and twisted to be used for anything else save burning.

Before their spears can clatter to the ground, you kick them into the air, letting them spin wildly until a swing of your hammer crashes into their buts. The hafts splinter with a crack of thunder and rusted iron heads shoot like bolts of lighting across the way, piercing straight through the unguarded flesh of the other boardwalk patrol. The corpses of those pests crumble just as the head thrown finally lands at the feet of the guards at the door.

Their eyes never left it as it sailed through the air. They did not notice the butchery until the thunderclap of your hammer batting the goblin spears into the hearts of their brood brothers. By the time they lift their eyes to see you, you've already brought down the tools of civilization upon their heads.

But your work does not end there.

No, you understand how deep the infestation must have gotten for the goblins to send so many guards outside of their nest. When there are two, there are twenty. When there are a dozen, there are well over a hundred of the pests swarming about and getting up to only the gods know what.

A kick throws open the door and sends a half a dozen or so goblins flying as a price for getting curious enough to approach the sounds of battle outside the lair. What you see within turns your stomach and reminds you why these vile pests have extermination orders on every world where they have a presence. They are most ruinous beasts who tear down civilization where they see it and craft a vile and demonic parody of the tribal and nomadic civilizations found on less developed worlds.

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>>6372138
The flooring and walls of the lighthouse interior have been torn apart, and you suddenly understand why they never broke the light bulb. You gave them too much credit, thinking them clever enough to leave it on. No, the vile pests simply tore apart the only means they had to reach it before they found the bulb, leaving behind a grand cavernous pit that must have reminded them of the labyrinth-caves that birthed them. The wood and drywall must have burnt away long ago, for the fire they've built at the center of their pit burns driftwood and sapling logs that they could cut down with their pilfered rusted tools.

The pit itself, once the basement of the labyrinth, is an orgy of sex and violence that would make the most depraved pleasure worlds in the Jade Star Empire vomit at its cruelty and excess. Impaled corpses stripped of clothes and armor rot on stakes driven into the ground. Entrails hang between the stakes like decorative ribbons, long since dried of the blood that now stains the ground. A dead woman who looked to be in her thirties hangs over the driftwood fire from a support beam that goblins managed to keep intact, her flesh being smoked like a cut of meat. Another has been crucified, hanging limply from hempen rope with festering wounds upon her flesh, the vile creatures cackling as they poke and prod her with spears smeared with filth.

In the center, away from the cesspits and the corpses are more of their victims. Some bound and squirming for freedom, others dead eyed and freely assisting their goblin masters in whatever chores they want. Most of them heavily pregnant. Some few of them in the process of being impregnated by these vile parasites. A few being forced to kneel before some kind of shaman, who pours a glowing green liquid into mouths that have been force open.

"Savages," you spit the word out like a curse.

Your hammer crushes the skull of one of these creatures without thinking, the first one to charge up the stairway with its club in hand. Your axe cleaves the head from the second bravest goblin's shoulders, sending it tumbling into the abyss. As much as you know that this must not register on an emotional level, your mind races with the thought of crushing them all with the tools of civilization, and your eyes cannot help but see red. Especially when the shaman's gaze goes towards the open door and it has the sheer audacity to lick its lips.

None of these pests will leave this place alive. However, you do need to quickly think on your priorities.
>What part of "cleave and smite until it is done" do you not understand? CLEAVE AND SMITE.
>Prioritize the safety of the victims, the ones who haven't been butchered at least.
>Be calm, be cautious, and let the pests come to you to die.
>You're going to save everyone in front of you. Nothing else matters right now.
>You're from Mare Serenitatis and you say KILL EM ALL! (Even if some of the victims end up dead)
>(Write In)

>>6372143
>>You're from Mare Serenitatis and you say KILL EM ALL! (Even if some of the victims end up dead)

>>6372143
>What part of "cleave and smite until it is done" do you not understand? CLEAVE AND SMITE.

>>6372143
>>You're from Mare Serenitatis and you say KILL EM ALL! (Even if some of the victims end up dead)

>>6372143
You're from Mare Serenitatis and you say KILL EM ALL! (Even if some of the victims end up dead)
Any survivors may be better off dead, but assessing that is only going to give more time for the goblins to make it worse so straight to work.

>>6372143
>>What part of "cleave and smite until it is done" do you not understand? CLEAVE AND SMITE.

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>>6371682
>No yeah the opening premise is almost identical lol— MC discovers how to transfer their soul into other bodies, is killed for other reasons, and is forced to reincarnate into a prepared backup body with blonde hair and golden eyes in the remote and desolate location of one of their hidden workshops. Basically beat for beat lol
That is one hell of a coincidence. I just wanted to write a mildly horny quest starring a hot elf that conquers worlds, and since the other hornier one got deleted by the mods, I went for this one. The only reason for the gender bend is because I can't write feminine women for shit, so it might as well just be a guy who's chill with having tits, and the gold hair and eyes is because Serie is best elf.
>>6371707
>As opposed to improper flaunting? I'm sure being unused to a female clothing can lead to accidents such as nip slips occuring
Look my other recent attempt at a quest got deleted by the mods, so this is only going to be mildly horny and I'm going to avoid going into too much detail.
>>6371932
>May our bearded ancestors forgive us for coming back as an elf.
Elves and Dwarves don't really hate eachother in this setting. If there's a "standard fantasy race" that occupies people's ire, it's the gnomes. Most of them are so bad that the good gnomes broke off, formed their own coalition, and renamed themselves to the Halflings while trying to distance themselves from their kin as much as possible.
>>6372172
>Any survivors may be better off dead, but assessing that is only going to give more time for the goblins to make it worse so straight to work.
Standard operating procedure would note everyone who isn't brainwashed enough to call the goblins their masters should be sent to a convent for at least a few months, to help purify their bodies. You haven't seen anyone do that yet, but that doesn't mean that no one is that far gone.

>>6372143
>You're from Mare Serenitatis and you say KILL EM ALL! (Even if some of the victims end up dead)

>>6372143
>Prioritize the safety of the victims, the ones who haven't been butchered at least.

This quest is just an excuse for OP to post his waifu but I can’t prove it.

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I'm from Mare Serenitatis and I say KILL 'EM ALL!

Another goblin charges up the stairs with a crude parody of a spear in its hands. Your axe meets its neck, your hammer shatters the filth-smeared rusted spearhead, but you hardly notice that it's there. Your actions are automatic, reflexes honed from decades of practice and tutelage from the man who could never properly acknowledge you as his son. Every graceful move you make without a second thought, he would call it sloppy - for as much as your heart is in each blow, your mind is far, far away.

It is back on Luna-Over-Cradle, in the Elfgrove that covered the Mare Serenitatis. Back with your mother, and your first lover... whom you now resemble more than you would like to admit. Back in the moonforge tangled beneath the roots of the Goeden Sêr, whose leaves shone with the effervescent light of the stars above. Back at the shores of Lake Syndod whose still waters mirrored the thousand and one dancing colors of the lifewards that bound the climates of Cradle to the surface of its moon.

Back in the fires of Boss Gal'Drak's landing and forests that burned when the Void Labyrinth crashed into your home.

Back among your fellow conscripts ready to die to take back the Mare Serenitatis from the orcs and goblins.

Back at the edge of the First Pit, the Void Labyrinth's Maw, where you got a front row seat to witness the wretched and vile depravity of an unchecked goblin infestation.

You learned to hate that day. Oh, all of the races born from Cradle detested the goblins from the moment the first labyrinth opened and a horde of goblinoids spilled out from it. Your father's people - the dwarves - loathed them for their disrespect towards the tools of civilization, how they only ever strove to break things and never build them. Your mother's people - the elves - despised them for their mockery of sapience, their inability to dream up any art or song that was not a hideous perversion.

Your hatred for the goblin runs deeper than that. They raped your mother and ate your lover, and did the same to countless others whose only crime was being in the way of their rapine storm of debauchery and destruction. You got the distinct pleasure to witness them at their worst, at the heights of depravity and cruelty that they can achieve only when led by a Goblin King. You were there, three thousand years ago, carving your way through the blackest pit that scarred Mare Serenitatis with your brothers in arms.

Your hammer crushes another skull as you move down the stairs, butchering your way through the mass of goblin flesh.

Your mind is made up, as if there was any other choice. You're going to crush each and every one of these vile and putrescent pests that have crawled their way out of the Labyrinth-Space, until nothing remains but their blood and bones. It will be just like the Battle of the Pit.

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>>6372761
A human woman, madness and lust in her eyes, rushes your back with a filth covered dagger and some inane pledge of love and loyalty for the vermin you are here to slaughter on her lips. Your axe lops away her arm, and your hammer crashes into her rips like a comet, crushing her lungs and heart and throwing her back twenty meters.

Just like the Battle of the Pit.

Once your thoughts return to the present, your rage and hate are not mindless things. No, they are a finely honed blade, a scalpel that lets you excise any feelings of mercy and compassion in your heart and proceed with the cold butchery that must be done. Weaker men would see the fear in the goblins' eyes and allow it to unman them, for they too have known fear and having good in their hearts they would not want to inflict it upon creatures who feel so helpless against the tools of civilization. It would blind them to the truth that sits right in front of them, the weight of the goblins' crimes.

The cold of your contempt freezes your empathy in its tracks and allows you to save it for people who deserve it. Mercy belongs to the repentant sinner, for they shall go and sin no more and strive to live a good life in the Light of the LORD. That gift is wasted upon vile creatures like the goblin, who only seeks mercy as a brief reprieve from the justice it so richly deserves, and returns right back to its evil nature the moment wrothful men turn their backs upon it. You intend to kill them all and let the LORD decide if any are worthy of a second chance.

And if any more of their victims decide to get in the way of your work, you will show them that same mercy.

Hammer and axe dance through the pit the goblins carved from the basement of your lighthouse, bringing the wrath of civilization to the unwashed cretinous savages that thought to make their nest upon your land. Your heart hammers in your ears like a beating drum, your arms begin to burn with the weight of your weapons, but your grip and your stance do not falter. Every swing is swift and heavy, shattering their shit-dipped spears and cleaving heads from shoulders in a single swing.

The bodies pile up at your bare feet. Some few foolish women join their goblin masters among the corpses, drunk off aphrodisiac and makeshift love potions into a slavish stupor that led them to protect their oppressors. Five becomes a dozen, a dozen become two or three or five after the LORD only knows how much time has passed. And then all that remains is their leader, their shaman chief, the one who brewed the potions that ruined the mind of all those women.

He tries to throw a vial at your head, but it's a weak throw, easy to dodge with just a tilt of your next.

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>>6372762

He spills the cauldron of potion as you stalk towards his perch with malicious intent. The green sludge covers one of the women and turns her into a panting, moaning wreck who cannot keep her fingers from her most delicate places. Whatever that foul brew must be, it doesn't penetrate the barrier about your feet, left by the silver bangles you slipt on this morning.

In a last ditch effort, he braces his staff and tries to wield it like a cudgel. Unfortunately for him, you shatter it with a flex of your forearm. And then...
>You choke the life out of him.
>You cleave his head from his shoulders.
>You give his victims some of the broken spears and tell them that he's all theirs.
>(Write In)

There are just under a dozen survivors remaining after this butchery. How will you deal with these women?
>Bring them out to the beach where it's sunny and warm, and signal for a passing ship.
>Bring them to your cottage, where you can find enough places for them to sleep... probably. Hopefully.
>Clean out this pit and set up a proper camp inside of it, where they'll be able to stay while you contact the local lord.
>See if you can dig up a boat from somewhere to take them back to the mainland. You swear you had one...
>(Write In)

>>6372764
>You cleave his head from his shoulders.
We must not make any mistakes by being inefficient or indecisive, we have to end this immediately.
>Bring them out to the beach where it's sunny and warm, and signal for a passing ship.
This is a place of horrors and the open air of the beach is probably better for them than crammed in our home where they may just cause us trouble anyway.

>>6372764
>You cleave his head from his shoulders.

>Bring them out to the beach where it's sunny and warm, and signal for a passing ship.
Letting goblin stock inside our nice clean home...lmao!

>>6372764
>You give his victims some of the broken spears and tell them that he's all theirs.

>>6372764
>You cleave his head from his shoulders.
>Bring them to your cottage, where you can find enough places for them to sleep... probably. Hopefully.

>>6372764
>You cleave his head from his shoulders.
keep it simple.

>Bring them out to the beach where it's sunny and warm, and signal for a passing ship.
Its our vacation island. we ain't gonna share. Besides, they were uninvited!

>>6372764
>You choke the life out of him.
>Bring them out to the beach where it's sunny and warm, and signal for a passing ship.

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With the lightning flash of steel your axe cleaves the head from the goblin shaman.

The tools of civilization lack the shear elegance of your grandfather's curve blade, a weapon so keen that the foes he cleaved in twain would not know of their death until they attempted to move. The man who could not call you his son would claim them far more useful than a tool that could only deal death. Grandfather would call them blunt and crass. Yet even though they might be blunt compared to the muon-thick edge of Grandfather's Melltorwr, it only takes a single swing to cut through the goblin's neck.

Its head rolls off its torso and bounces off the floor when it lands, rolling into the feet of one of its heavily pregnant victims. She recoils from it in fear, and stares at you with bloodshot brown eyes. Uncertain and trembling, hugging her naked body against herself, her countenance is as pitiful as this whole scenario is infuriating.

"Who here still has her wits about her?" your voice thunders through the cavernous tower, a contralto echoing with certainty and stability for the victims to cling to. When none speak up after a moment, you continue, letting a sliver of frustration into your tone. "Are there none? Did they pollute your minds as thoroughly as your wombs? Am I the sole human here, amongst a herd of goblin livestock?"

Good. You see anger their eyes. Even if none have the stones to bite back at your words, there's some saving them yet.

"Forgive us if we're all just a little traumatized at being dragged into the goblin rape pit." Finally, one of them has the stones to speak up, and her lack of amusement shows itself quite plainly in her tone. Good. That's very good. "I think everyone is just... processing. They're all dead."

"Yes." You turn to the woman and meet her olive-green eyes. With a flourish, you present your axe and declare, "I killed them."

"All by your lonesome," she says, somewhat bitterly. "How?"

As you contemplate your answer to her question, the woman pushes herself up from the filth of the pit and is the first of the victims to stand. She carries herself with the bearing of someone well acquainted with taking charge of every situation she finds herself in, unused to being questioned and certainly unfamiliar with anyone taking their time in answering her. Between that undying fire and a delightfully athletic body, you find yourself dismayed that you feel absolutely nothing when looking at her.

She would have been right in your strike zone just a few hours ago. You know on an intellectual level that her breasts are well shaped for their size, her thighs nearly perfectly proportioned, and while her face is more handsome than beautiful she is still quite comely to gaze upon. Alas, while the mind and soul influence the body, so too does the body influence the mind.

Before she gets too anyone with you, you give her a simple answer, "I am - as the children might say - built different."

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>>6373262

The woman stares at you as if a tongue of fire just descended upon your brow from the heavens and your mouth spewed forth the incomprehensible primordial babble-tongue that was the universal language before the Tower fell. "You're what?"

"I meant that literally. This body of mine is not the happy accidents of love that birth most children, but a mastercraft that I have optimized for a great many tasks... one of which happens to be combat." That should explain things without giving away too much. What sort of backwards world wouldn't have homunculus gestation chambers in common use? Though before she can ask too many questions about that, you throw her a curveball and say, "To be fair, so are you."

She scoffs. "I'm not the one who felled a hundred and twelve goblins in the span of five minutes."

"No," you agree. "But you are the only one showing zero signs of goblin-mania. The means by which the goblins parasitize a womb releases a particular cocktail of hormones into the bloodstream to render their victims docile, compliant, and - with long enough exposure - fanatically loyal to the goblin tribe that impregnated them. It typically starts from the moment the first goblinoid pseudo-egg implants itself on the uterine endometrium and begins to interface with the host-mother's cardiovascular system through the placenta."

"..." The woman gives you a long, blank stare as the biotechnical jargon flies right over her head. "I am going to pretend I understood any of that and ask how that makes me built different."

"Goblin pregnancies make their victims weak-willed, docile, sexually hyperactive, and - over repeated exposure - somewhat mad," you say, gesturing at all the women who are only now slowly rising to their feat. Some fire flickering again in their eyes as you list all the side-effects of a goblin pregnancy, but none as lucid as the woman before you. "You are none of those things. If I were to speculate, that means you likely possess the Complex B markers I engineered into this body of mine which accelerate the production of antigens that counteract these hormones upon exposure. As an added bonus, nine out of ten attempts for a goblin pseudo-egg to parasitize your womb will self terminate and..."

Your voice trails off as you see the slowly falling expression on the woman's face. The old you wouldn't have cared much about it, but your new body is more sensitive to the emotions of others - by design, you wanted your bed warmers to be very responsive and comforting. You almost feel physical pain until you ask, "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

A very complicated smile crosses her face as she answers, "About as well as I can be after... it doesn't matter. I've just never been so happy to be infertile before."

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"That can't be it, one of the psychological attack vectors by goblins are 'miracle pregnancies' experienced by infertile women." You explain, though some part of your body is crying out for you to stop right where you are for some reason. Huh, are you better at reading micro-expressions, in this body? That's useful. "They evolved the ability to parasitize barren women specifically because they responded more positively towards bearing the little monsters. So that wouldn't normally-"

"My infertility is, uh..." the woman scratches her head for a moment, that complicated smile never leaving her face. "Special, if you don't mind leaving it at that. Not that I'm ungrateful for your aid, but..."

"Right..." you say, trailing off and not really knowing where to go from there.

An awkward silence hangs in the air for a few minutes as the two of you avoid looking directly at one another, searching for some way to either change the direction of the conversation or find something to take you on a completely separate course. Happily for the both of you, one of the women had been quite vigorously doing inappropriate things to herself, and breaks the silence with a very inappropriate noise that reminds you of the fact that there are people who could use some help.

"I'll need your help getting everyone onto the beach," you tell the woman. She nods her head quite happily, eager to leave the tail end of the previous conversation in the past. "I'll get some shelters set up for them. Would you be able to build a signal pyre and keep an eye on them while I work?"

She takes a look at the two dozen or so women who remain after all the butchery and nods. "I'll see if my subordinates are up to help with that as well. A knight should not lose to the depravity of a mere goblin."

You hold back the unfortunate truth that biology does not care one way or another about her subordinates' honor or valor... unless that came with some manner of paladin-blessing. Though if it did, they should have been able to cleave and smite their way through an infestation as minor as this one. "I'll pray they've still their wits about them. Oh, and I'm Rinaldo, by the way. The Great Artificer."

She stares at you, and for a moment you think she recognizes your magnificence. Unfortunately, the words that follow leave you with the complicated and somewhat forced smile. "Isn't that a man's name...? No, never mind. Thank you for your aid, Rinaldo, I shall see you justly rewarded for it, on my honor as a Knight of the Golden Moon. I have the honor of being the Lady Francesca Margareta la Poire de la Fontaine, Grand Master of the Knights Aurelune."

Huh?

How does a Grand Master of a Knightly Order get defeated by a mere hundred goblins? That doesn't make any sense to you. Well, you can ask her later, for now it is time for you to enter your Building Place
>You shall build them lean-tos on the beach to keep the sun off.
>Lean-tos are for the weak and lazy. Cabanas are the appropriate beach structure!
>You shall build a row of small beach huts, with roughshod furnishings for them to rest on.
>No, you will build more! The beach huts shall be fancy! FANCY!
>The building place consumes you. What... what have you done...!?!?
>Write in

>>6373270
>>No, you will build more! The beach huts shall be fancy! FANCY!

>>6373270
>No, you will build more! The beach huts shall be fancy! FANCY!
We bothered to make these tools finer than strictly necessary out of pride and that pride no doubt would also demand we make something actually decent.

>>6373266
Oh god we gave our real name? We're not at all worried about the Jade Star Emperor finding out we're still alive?

>You shall build them lean-tos on the beach to keep the sun off.
We have more important things to do with our abilities than build temporary residences, I'm sure.

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>>6373270
>Lean-tos are for the weak and lazy. Cabanas are the appropriate beach structure!
Fight with all my will against the imulse to artifice more and more grandiose artifacts into the world and settle for Cabanas. The tools of civilization should be able to create suitable lodges swiftly enough.

>>6372613
>This quest is just an excuse for OP to post his waifu but I can’t prove it.
There are two things I hold great love for: Elves and Lady Knights. If it wasn't obvious, the Lady Knight introduced this last post is going to be somewhat of a recurring character.
>>6372924
>Its our vacation island. we ain't gonna share. Besides, they were uninvited!
It is one part secret vacation island, one part secret fallback position as far away as possible from people who might get pissed off at you. While the Jade Star Empire does not officially have borders and claims every human world under heaven... in practice, that's like the PRC pretending they own Taiwan. They really don't, and everyone really knows they don't, but all the other lands pretend they do because they know the Jade Star Emperor will throw a hissy fit if they deny it.
>>6373290
>We bothered to make these tools finer than strictly necessary out of pride and that pride no doubt would also demand we make something actually decent.
Look. You were originally half dwarf and half elf. NEITHER of those peoples have an appreciation for the mass produced slop you'll find rolling out of most human factories, because they think it's garbage. They'll take one look at a factory simulation game and give it a one star review as "Sloppa Simulator 47". A big part of that is because they live so goddamn long on average that a pair of shoes that lasts 2-3 years before needing replacement is to them what a pair of shoes that lasts 2-3 weeks to us.
A dwarf will make a simple, long lasting tool that will get the job done, without any bells or whistles.
An elf will make a work of art engineered to such precision that despite its complexity it will last you two or three centuries.
A human will set up a factory that will constant churn out cheap replacements for all the shit they make that breaks.
>>6373295
>Oh god we gave our real name? We're not at all worried about the Jade Star Emperor finding out we're still alive?
Happily there are maybe a dozen or so individuals on this planet that know the Jade Star Empire exists, and you can count the people who have had contact with them on one hand. One of those people - and the only one in recent memory - being you. This place is a mondo backwater, well outside the unofficial borders of the Empire and not someplace they're looking to conquer or colonize in the immediate future.

Also, the amount of pretenders is going to be kind of bonkers. There's a lot of people who read your papers on the motion of souls and are going to claim that they're you, and it's going to give the Jade Star Emperor a massive headache.
>>6373295
>We have more important things to do with our abilities than build temporary residences, I'm sure.
The MC did inherit his father's Dwarven Artism, and that's a product of the soul, not the body.

>>6373270
>Lean-tos are for the weak and lazy. Cabanas are the appropriate beach structure!

>>6373270
>>No, you will build more! The beach huts shall be fancy! FANCY!
Every hut should have their own shower and jacuzzi

>>6373270
>No, you will build more! The beach huts shall be fancy! FANCY!

>>6373274
>>6373290
>>6373414
>>6373451
GRAAAAHHHH! I WILL BUILD MORE! THE BEACH HUTS SHALL BE FANCY! FANCY!!!

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The humble lean-to ought to be sufficient shelter for the victims of the goblins until a ship arrives to rescue these women. Such a simple construction would be an efficient use of your resources to achieve the stated aim of providing them with a place where they can get out of the sun to avoid overexposure while they wait. With your skills it would take only a few minutes to construct them, practically the blink of an eye. Of course, they would only last so long, perhaps being washed away in a particularly violent storm in a year or maybe two to become driftwood. By then they would have well served their purpose, and their loss would be meaningless.

That is how a human would think, at least.

For better or for worse you do not think like a human, not exactly. Elves, Dwarves, Beastkin, Humans and their various halfbreeds all think close enough to one another that their thoughts are not truly alien to each other. Even the Halflings who reject the foul ways of their Gnomish brethren think along those same pathways. Their perspectives and instincts may be different, but they are ultimately comprehensible. Beastkin see every interaction as part of a hunt, Humans think first of the here and the now, Elves strive towards perfection in every craft, and Dwarves value reliability above all things. So a human would see the greatest value in establishing a shelter for here and now, expending the least effort needed to achieve the minimum required outcome because they have so little time to live with and want to get on to other things.

You do not think like a human at all, in that regard. You are a bastard born of love over duty - the literal meaning of the Dwarven Rune for bastard - between an Elven seamstress and the Mountain King of Vulkan Orbital. There very thought of doing the minimum, of debasing your craft such when you could have taken more time to make it better, does not even cross your mind - and if it did, it would offend you. Your soul sings with both the elven desire to create something perfect and the dwarven desire to create something reliable that will stand the test of ages.

Wood will not do. Wood will not do at all for what you plan, not when you've a perfectly fine granite cliffside to carve into for your foundational materials. You do not have the rare metals required to inlay magic into the structure, but there are numerous mundane means by which you can make this building a long lasting place of comfort that you would be unashamed to call a surf-side shack.

But just how far are you willing to go beyond the basics? (Choose as many as you wish)
>Why wouldn't you put in a bath house? They need to get clean!
>A stone garden is a necessity! For their sanity and relaxation!
>A monument to the fallen is a must, of course.
>A pier! For fishing! They'll need to get food somehow!
>Who WOULDN'T add a cold room to the basement!?
>OBVIOUSLY you built a workout room, to help them recover!
>(Write In)

>>6373650
>Why wouldn't you put in a bath house? They need to get clean!
An onsen episode already?

>>6373650
>Why wouldn't you put in a bath house? They need to get clean!
>A stone garden is a necessity! For their sanity and relaxation!
>OBVIOUSLY you built a workout room, to help them recover!

>>6373650
>Why wouldn't you put in a bath house? They need to get clean!

>>6373650
>Why wouldn't you put in a bath house? They need to get clean!
>A monument to the fallen is a must, of course.
>A pier! For fishing! They'll need to get food somehow!
I’m tempted to just pick all of them, but that would be too easy.

>>6373661
I'll (>>6373657) second these, too. After all, we're bound to have left over granite from the artificing. It'd be a shame to waste materials.

Rolled 46 (1d100)

Not going to be able to update today, rolling this for the general quality (that is, how good are the structures from your perspective).

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You can see the plan for the new structure in your mind's eye.

A dwarven-styled beach resort with lunarian and elven influences on the architecture. The normal stout brutalism replaced with sweeping curves, the walls themselves a work of art that shall stand the test of a thousand years weathering. The cave left by your quarrying shall serve as the bathhouse, for why waste the space? You will simply need to carve out the stone in the proper patterns, and ensure that you tap the mineral springs that exist beneath the island to fill the pools.

Alas you cannot feel the warmth of the earth roiling beneath you anymore than you could three hundred years ago when you broke ground upon your cabin. So that will mean that a fire chamber will need to be dug beneath the reserve pool to maintain temperature. Easily incorporated, easily planned, easily done.

The other necessities for the resort... an area for general exercise will not take you long, but fashioning devices for strength training - with all their moving parts and dense metallic weights - is something you will need to forgo due to time constraints. Instead, your plan is to set out arenas for the sports of your mother's people: namely, tennis and pickleball. That should get them all onto their feet for some good, wholesome fun.

Of course, the stone garden goes without saying.

You've already constructed it, blending it with the beach to make it a more natural construction. It simply looks like stones pushed by a glacier, but to your eyes - as keen as an elf and with the same knack for stone as your father - it is a soothing arrangement that banishes the darkness in the hearts of men and women. Ever peaceful. Ever beautiful. An immaculate slice of the universe that stills your blinding rage at the fact that goblins were in one of your buildings, doing horrific things to innocent women.

"Were these stones always here?" Francesca approaches from the lighthouse with a few sullen looking women in tow. She admires the work of your stone garden with curiosity and a gentle pinch of confusion, before shaking her head and saying, "Nevermind. I managed to wrangle together a work crew to help get the basics together. Where do you think we'll be most useful? If we cut down some logs, I can help assemble the lean-tos."

"Huh?" Now you're confused. You told her that you'd be making shelter for everyone. "What lean-tos?"

"You said that you were going to be making shelters for everyone?" Francesca's statement is more of a question. Did she think you were going to assemble some subpar structure meant for a handful of uses before being discarded? "I assumed it was going to start simple, at the very least."

"Get a foraging party going," you say, tossing her a few stone knives that you crafted while thinking on the house's design. "I'm sure that the other women will appreciate getting something substantial in their stomachs. Gather some wood as well for a signal fire... and for cooking, too."

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>>6374656
"You won't need help with the shelters?" Francesca asks.

With a shake of your head, you array your tools before you. Shovel, hammer, axe, and pickaxe, those will be everything you need to construct the basics of the basics by the time they return from foraging. Fracesca blinks as the drop out of your voluminous sleeve, for even as billowing and large as it is, it's too small to have held them all. You give her a reassuring smile and say, "Leave the shelter to me. Tend to your people and get something warm in their bellies, I'll worry about keeping the rain off their heads."

She gives you a nod, and then waves to the sullen women to follow her. The knives might be stone, but they're a product of your craftsmanship. They ought to be able to cut down a tree with two or three blows, if it comes down to it, and gathering tasty roots and berries ought to be no problem at all. Hopefully none of them get pecked too hard by the wild turkeys you accidentally introduced to the island.

Then again, turkey soup sounds really good. Thinking of that, you lift your tools and you get to work pulling together everything that now exists in your mind's eye.

===

"Hey, Rina!" Later in the day, a very energetic sounding Francesca calls out to you. You can see her jogging across the sands of the beach, turning towards the cove where you've been working. "We shall be eating most splendidly tonight indeed! Marianne managed to catch a wild tur-"

She comes to a skidding halt when she sees what work you have wrought.

"-key... huh?" With wide eyes, she stares up at the honestly rather shabby resort house that you've thrown together. Everything passes muster for something put together in less than a day, but there's an itch to take a second pass at it eventually because you know it can be better. "Uh, Rina, where did this house come from? I don't remember there being a house here this morning, unless I missed something..."

"You missed nothing, Lady Francesca," you say, wiping off the sweat of your brow and hoisting your hammer over your shoulder. "I told you I was going to take care of shelter for you and your people, and I have. They will need to share two to a room, but at the very least it ought be far better than the loathsome accommodations those wretched beasts gave you."

The resort house juts out from the cliffside and into the cove, where a foundation of stone and sand support a graceful structure of hewn and polished masonry. The tiles of its roof follow an old elvish pattern, the slope curving upwards to catch and carry away the rain. Its curve follows the beach, where doors exit to the tennis courts and stone gardens, while steam from the hot pools pours out from the cave. You lucked out tremendously in finding a firestone to process, making the matter of keeping the onsen warm much simpler.

"There are rooms? Francesca asks with a voice thick with disbelief.

>>6374657

"There are beds," you say with a smirk, and the expression on her face is absolutely priceless. "More importantly, there's a bath. Meaning no offense, my lady, but..."

"Say no more," Francesca winces, but then a dreamy look comes across her face. She shakes that away after a moment and then asks, "How did you come by this? I doubt not the skill of an elf in construction, but the speed of it is the sort you only hear in tales of Martin the Mason or the Wandering Carpenter..."

How do you answer her question?
>Honestly
>Stretch the truth
>Claim a fairy helped you.
>You sung it into existence as all elves do.
>(Write in)

What is the first priority for the evening.
>Getting Francesca (and her people) clean.
>Food. All this building made you work up an appetite.
>Flirt with one of the women. Realize that it does nothing for you anymore. Cuddle in misery.
>(Write In)

>>6374658
>You sung it into existence as all elves do.

>Getting Francesca (and her people) clean.
Elf bath scene, realize we have tits instead of a weapon now + we want no filthy gobbo cum in our resort

>>6374658
>Stretch the truth
>Getting Francesca (and her people) clean.

>>6374658
>>You sung it into existence as all elves do.
>>Getting Francesca (and her people) clean.

>>6374658
>I'm just that good
>Getting Francesca (and her people) clean.

>>6374658
>Stretch the truth
>Food. All this building made you work up an appetite.

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Is this heave, or is this hell?

The scene before you is something out of your dreams from before your death. Steamy and warm, a misty haze clouding your vision of a dozen beauties frolicking in the baths, their bountiful treasures swaying with a hypnotic rhythm that would entrance any man who had the joy of peeking in on them. Yet you feel nothing. There is an admiration for the form, a critical eye for the substance, an appreciation that yes: adventuring breeds a finer class of woman, for every shape and size imaginable comes to rest upon a wholesome and tomboyish core.

The excitement that you would have felt the other day, not just beholding such revelries but participating in them, is completely and utterly absent. There is no sapphic desire in your heart to find comfort in their embrace. No urge to grasp their bountiful treasures in your hands, even to compare them to your own. You have traded your once mighty sword for a scabbard and two lovely orbs made precisely to your former self's preferences, and with that exchange your desire to sheathe your blade evaporated.

Yet you don't feel all that put out by it. After all, you still get to appreciate such beauty, if only from an aesthetic perspective. Perhaps that's for the bes. These women have gone through a lot, and are surely more comfortable around you as a fellow woman than they would be about some lustful beast whose eyes - even if well intentioned and respectful - would not be able to hide their desire.

With a sigh, you sink into the waters of the artificial hotspring.

You did a good job putting these together. The spring is rich with minerals, and the refined firestone keeps the pools just warm enough for comfort, balancing with the flow of the spring to keep the temperature somewhere between tepid and scalding.

Of course the victims enjoy themselves. After spending so long within a goblin pit, how could they not? Washing away the filth of those rapacious beasts and the stench of their victimhood must feel as great a relief as being saved. Cleaning the body cleans the soul, and you can see the baggy eyes and life-weariness evaporate in real time as they wash themselves in the washing pools, and then join you in the hot-spring's warmth.

>Of course, you helped them clean themselves. That's one of the reasons you know that their bodies hold no charm for you.
>Of course, you kept your hands away. It would feel wrong to grope around them, as they were.
>Of course, when Francesca offered to wash your back, you let her and returned the favor. Though, is it normal for... nevermind.

>>6376347
>>Of course, you helped them clean themselves. That's one of the reasons you know that their bodies hold no charm for you
Perhaps they can help us understand our new body

>>6376347
>Of course, when Francesca offered to wash your back, you let her and returned the favor. Though, is it normal for... nevermind.

>>6376347
>that pic
Serie ain’t got all that.
>Of course, you helped them clean themselves. That's one of the reasons you know that their bodies hold no charm for you.

>>6376347
>Of course, you helped them clean themselves. That's one of the reasons you know that their bodies hold no charm for you.

>>6376347
>Of course, you helped them clean themselves. That's one of the reasons you know that their bodies hold no charm for you.
Sex with Serie!
Vigorous, babymaking sex with Serie!!

>>6376347
>Of course, when Francesca offered to wash your back, you let her and returned the favor. Though, is it normal for... nevermind.