Swords, Sorcery, and Sex in the World of Greyhawk - Chapter 1 - Part 1

Chapter 1: Arrival - Part 1

"So anyway, last fall I had to take Intro to Political Science. Lame general education class, you know?" Said Robert Sawyer, a tanned 22-year old with a handsome face and windswept hair. He leaned back in his chair, wearing a red polo shirt embroidered with his fraternity's letters, and continued his story.

"So I'm in there with a bunch of freshmen, right? And there's this one guy, shows up in overalls, talking to the hick next to him about how 'he 'n his paw done tree a passel o' coons t'other night.'"

He snorted, drawing laughter from the three sharing his table. Erica Roland tossed her bleached blond hair as she laughed, eyes bright in her delicately proportioned face. She was president of the Delta Zeta chapter; her face, slim figure, and D-cup breasts made her a campus hottie and she knew it. Maria Torrez was a second generation Honduran; she wore a plunging v-neck shirt to keep men's eyes on her busty chest instead of her bulging waistline. Her lustrous black hair was tied up in a ponytail, with fingernails painted black to match. Next to her was Steve Kim. The short Korean-American wore his ROTC uniform and kept his flat facial features carefully neutral with the ease of long practice.

Three others sat at a neighboring table, pretending they weren't listening. Mickey Bell lived up to her name with flaming red hair and a pert nose. Not particularly tall, she wore a bolero jacket and plaid skirt. Ashley Rein, seated beside her, had a whip-thin body, covered by a black sweater that was just gauzy enough to reveal the bra covering her small breasts. She had hair to match her sweater, a silver torc on the side of one nostril, and a rainbow of gemstone studs in her ears. Her jeans rode low on her narrow hips, exposing the edges of a Tinker Bell tattoo on her lower back, bright against her milky skin. The final occupant of the room was a man, Peter Triplett. He'd pushed his chair back to accommodate his massive frame, six and a half feet tall with thick, fleshy arms and an enormous belly. As he listened, he wiped his nose with a handkerchief, unsuccessfully trying not to rub it on the unruly beard that covered the lower half of his face. All seven were seniors at Carolina Mountain University, waiting to be introduced at a year-end awards banquet.

"First day of class--we get the syllabus, all the usual BS. Second day of class we started talking about, Hell, I don't know. Anyway, class ends, and this guy goes up to the prof, and he says 'Uhhh, excuse me sir. This is POL 101, right?' And the Prof says 'Yes." And then this dope says--he says 'Well, sir? Ah was wonderin' when we is gettin' to the poultry." Even the trio at the other table broke out with mocking grins, quickly smothered.

"Poultry?" Peter didn't get it.

"He saw P.O.L –he thought that meant--" Mickey explained while Robert rolled his eyes.

"Ahh." Peter finally understood.

"How much longer is--" Ashley started, scowl returning to her face, when the door suddenly burst open. In the doorway stood a gnarled old man, wearing an ivory-colored vest and harem pants, with snowy hair cascading around his sunken cheeks and ashen countenance. Gold bangles adorned both wrists, and in one athritic hand he held a strange instrument, a brass triangle festooned with rings and projections.

"Come, all of you." He spoke in an accent they couldn't place, holding the door open with his free hand and motioning them through with the instrument, continuing urgently. "Hurry! There is little time, you must all come with me at once."

"Don't profs wear black robes? With those funny hats?" Steve asked Pete as they moved towards the door.

"Who cares? I just want to go eat." He shrugged, following the others. When all seven were in the hallway, the old man stopped.

"Come closer. Closer!" He raised his arms as if to enfold them. Looking down the hall, Ashley could see Dean Shook coming from the banquet room with a puzzled expression. The old man in white raised the instrument to a series of clicking sounds as the rings turned and projections shifted.

"What--" She tried to ask, before the world dropped out from under her.

The beige corridor walls morphed into psychedelic whorls of color that flew at them, through them as they fell. The sound of Dean Shook's querulous voice grew deeper and slower, like a record played at half speed, and when it faded away all was silent. In mid-fall, each of them felt a sudden wrench sideways that left their stomachs behind. After an instant, or maybe an eternity, they landed with a lurch, crumbling to the floor.

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The eight found themselves in a wide room, with a vaulted ceiling that hung above them with no pillars for support. The floor and walls were an unbroken white, without any joint or mortar, and glowing as if they were lit from inside. A circle drawn on the floor enclosed them, inscribed in glowing red lines that twined amongst multi-colored hieroglyphs. Fighting nausea, they tried to stand, but the floor gave under them as they tried to move, like walking on a mattress.

Adding to the shock, they found themselves surrounded by alien figures - feathered humanoids, with thin limbs and bulging joints. Red and orange plumage adorned the wings folded under their arms, matched by bright crests emanating from their beaks and ending in a tuft atop their skulls. Lighter shades of downy feathers covered their naked torsos and groins. Each of them held a wickedly barbed javelin in their wing-claws, pointed at the students.

"You!" The old man cried, rising to his feet and pointing at the lone human among the birdmen. He wore a Fu Manchu robe, but black, and woven thick with hieroglyphs. A dense black beard hung in woven plaits from his sharp chin, and high cheekbones gave his face an aristocratic look.

"Of course it's me, you ancient fool. You think I didn't know the Order of Sorcery was watching me? And who else could pluck your tunnel from the Astral Plane and bring its mouth here?" Laughing, he descended from a dais towards the sprawled figures.

Behind him trailed sex distilled into a naked body. Wide eyes lit her sculpted face, and waves of golden hair cascaded down her back. Her tits were perfect globes floating weightlessly above her chest, topped with pink nipples that stuck out far enough to flirt with obscenity. The curves of her legs and her hourglass waist met in a trimmed triangle of honey-colored fur. While the seven gawked at her she smiled, revealing a set of fangs, stark white against purple lips.

Ignoring her, the old man staggered, coughing, with one hand on his chest. The instrument he'd held fell silently to the floor. Facing the seven, he tried to speak.

"Listen to me. You must work together - all of you. We're counting on you to-" Another bout of coughing wracked his body, spilling bright red blood down his white robes. Suddenly his eyes opened wide as the point of a blade emerged from his chest. Blood pulsed out from the wound in slowing jets that echoed his stopping heart. His mouth kept moving, desperate to tell them something, but no sound came out before he toppled to the floor, dead. Behind him stood the man in black, dagger in hand.

"I think that's about enough of him, don't you agree? Always the same trite clichés. 'Work together, save the world, blah, blah, blah." He gave the old man's body a kick. The woman licked her lips as the metallic smell of blood filled the air.

"What the hell is going on here!?" Robert was the first to react, glaring at the man in black.

"Hell. Mm. Yes, I suppose you could say that." He cocked his head, looking at Robert like a coyote looking at a hole, wondering if the gopher was coming out or not.

"I am Malrion, called the Peregrinari, for I have traveled far to find knowledge and power. You have heard of me, no?" He asked. Steve and Peter pulled their eyes away from the naked beauty and exchanged glances with the others, confused.

"You have not heard of how I drowned the Dullstrand Coast?" He asked, taken aback. None of the students responded.

"No? What does an evil sorcerer have to do around here to be properly appreciated for his genius?" He asked in an anguished voice, shoulders slumping.

"Don't let them get you down, dahling." The woman's voice was like a glass of port--thick and rich, with just enough sweetness to balance the husky sound. Nodding in agreement, the robed man put a hand on her ass, and she rubbed her nipples against his back like a cat. From between her slightly parted legs, the seven could see his fingers sliding into her crack with a small, wet sound.

"No matter, you'll be screaming in wordless agony soon enough, so there's really no point in worrying about little details." He said, good humor returning at the prospect. The students shrunk together as the ring of armed birdmen grew tighter.

"Let's start with him." The woman said, pointing a candy red fingernail at Robert. "He looks...scrumptious." Shrugging, Malrion turned to a birdman with a woven gold chain around its neck.

"He stays here." He said, pointing at Robert's red shirt. "For now, take the others to the holding pen below."

With high-pitched squawks, the birdmen surged forwards, separating Robert from the others with the points of their javelins. Too stunned to protest, the other six allowed themselves to be herded away. The birdmen led them through a pair of iron-banded doors, ugly against the white purity of the walls. As they left, they could hear the man talking to Robert.

"Now then, my young friend. Where shall we begin? With your skin, perhaps? It does get in the way of so many nerves, you know. I find that humans are much more sensitive when it's gone. Or perhaps with your eyes? Not being able to see adds so much to the feeling of suspense, don't you think?" He burst out in a bass laugh that would have echoed magnificently in a room with decent acoustics.

"Oh, honey. You promised to leave them alive long enough for me to have fun too." The woman pouted.

"Hey. Hey!" Robert's voice suddenly rose in fear, then the door closed behind them and they heard no more.

Too scared to speak, the remaining six exchanged wordless glances as the birdmen herded them down a spongy ramp, through a maze of corridors, down another ramp, to finally stop before another iron-banded door. Instead of a handle, it had a pair of holes, into which the birdman inserted his talons and turned. Pulling it open, he gestured to the others and the six were shoved inside. The birdman officer gave a last cry and closed the door behind them, which locked with a loud click.

They reeled, stunned by the sudden series of events. Ashley and Erica stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly across their breasts. Steve knelt by the door, running his fingers over the metal in search of an opening. Maria crumpled to the floor, head between her knees while Mickey sat beside her. Peter chuffed, then sat heavily in one corner, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"What. Just. Happened." Erica finally managed.

"If this is dream and y'all just left me sleeping in the waiting room I'm gonna'..." Pete warned.

Mickey pinched herself, grimacing silently.

"This is seriously freaking me out." Ashely said, ignoring Peter.

"Freaking you?!" Maria finally spoke, her voice cracking with her tears. "What about me? I hate all this Goth stuff."

"Goth?! What do you-"

"I just want to go back and-"

"It's okay. We all do. We all want to go back." Mickey said in a soothing voice, putting her hand on Maria's shoulder.

"I don't want to be here." Maria repeated, more quietly.

"Alright. No one knows what's going on, right?" Erica looked around but no one responded. "Let's just play along. Someone must be playing a game with us. I don't know who, but-"

"A game? But Robert-" Peter protested.

"Maybe Robert's in on this too." Erica insisted.

"It's not just Robert. Those...birdmen...I've worked costuming in the theater-" Ashley said.

"Of course she's into theatre, just look at her..." Maria muttered.

"-and those didn't look like costumes." Ashley finished, ignoring the interruption.

"Oh, right. And you've seen real birdmen running around? I say we play along like it's a game. Anyone have a better idea?" Erica said, looking around and daring each of the five to object. She was president of her sorority and the strange circumstances didn't stop her from acting like one.

"So...what next?" Steve asked, not finding any way to open the door.

Continued in Chapter 1: Arrival - Part 2

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