Adventure Is the Spice of Life

Story by Harem

Alrighty, here's a new story that's been nagging me for about a week. There won't be much sex in it at first.

Sorta based on D&D rules, settings, and other stuff.

Comments always appreciated.

Author's Note: So far, Part 2 is completely seperate from the story, meaning you can read it stand-alone if you're simply looking for fap material. Part 3 is a direct continuation of Part 1, so if you'd rather avoid the icky sex, you can read Part 1 and 3 while skipping 2.

Prison duty was boring.

This was always true, Jack the Guard thought drearily. Even though the jail housed quite a few criminals, hardly anyone ever visited them. There was almost always a quick turn-around. Stole some fruit? Lose a hand. If you died from bloodloss or fever, served you right. You did your crime, and you payed your fine. If you could. Couldn't? Always room at the gallows or in the work gangs.

Hardly any visitors indeed. If ever there WAS a breakout attempt, it'd certainly not come through the front door. Guard duty did have some perks, though. Jack was able to sleep most of the day and spend his princely salary--earned without fear of conscription due to already having an 'important role to the safety and well-being of King and Country'--on the local ales and harlots.

In fact, he was having a rather delightful dream about a pretty little redhead when a heavy thud hit the door. Jack almost fell off the creaky, wooden chair upon which he had been reclining. Luckily, the two legs being held in the air by his leanings cracked down on the planks instead of his rear and his pride. Still half asleep, Jack grumbled around in a confused manner before several other sharp raps on the portal focused his attention.

Letting fly a quick half-dozen curses--from heathen gods, of course, not the right and proper ones--Jack hoisted himself off the stool with a grunt. He took hold of a heavy, well-worn club in one hand and in one hand and with a metallic clatter pulled a set of iron keys from their hook on the wall. It was mid-morning, so there was plenty of light and fresh air outside of the dark little corner to which Jack the Guard had repositioned his desk.

As a young man, Jack had been strong and proud. Now approaching his forties, time had ravaged him. His gut had started to become somewhat noticable, and he couldn't swing his sword as fast or as hard as he used to. Unlike others his age, he had never served in the army much less any wars. He didn't have the experience of a grizzled veteran to offset his poor physique, so he made the same pact with himself as he did everytime he had an unexpected visitor--if they wanted a prisoner and were willing to go through him to get one, he'd damn well let 'em, and he'd also let the guard handle it in their own city. Heck, if he were bludgeoned a little, he might get a medal. Or paid leave.

He swung the peephole portal open. He didn't see much of the person except they were alone and that long, blonde hair. "Yeah, whaddya want?" Jack said in a gruff, impatient voice. He didn't hide that he wanted to get back to his napping.

"Pardon the intrusion," said the stranger, the soft tones telling Jack it was a woman. His eyebrow raised at that, as well as the polite and well-pronounced words. Now what did a lady like this want in this dung-heap? "I am here to see a prisoner."

He let out a groan. Clearly he wouldn't get back to bed soon. "A'ight, stay here," Jack said brusquely before slamming the portal closed. Muttering more curses, he waddled to his desk and retrieved several yellowed sheets dotted with precious black ink before returning to the door. Once more, he opened portal. "S'what's 'is name, ma'am?" Jack's mother raised him to be propper. Also, he knew that the educated tend to have and spend money more than backwood hicks.

"Blackwell," said the woman.

Straining to remember his letters and shuffling the three pieces of papers, he looked over the list. Most of the names were crossed off, having been dealt with one way or another, but it was all a confusing mess, even for Jack who made it that way. Names were scribbled wherever space was to be had--in the margins, among the sides sides, even scrunched between long-crossed names, across the back, and so on. It took some time before he was able to look over all of them.

"S'ry, ma'am. No Blackwell," he said after several moments. " 'ave a nice day, ma'am," he murmurred, as if by habit, before slamming the portal closed. Or trying to.

"Wait!" said the woman, two long fingers slipping into the portal to keep it from closing fully. Jack was able to clearly see leather and metal--the woman was wearing a gauntlet. Immediately, Jack had wished he hadn't left his club at his desk when he retrieved the pages. Not that it would have helped him against a skilled opponent, but he'd at least feel more easy with it. "Are you sure you do not have a Blackwell, good sir?" she implored before continuing. "Beth

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