The Order of Chivalry was fucked; literally, all thanks to a ruthless band of mercenaries known as the Kuro Inu or "Black Dogs" whose head was Volt, a leader who managed to unite humans, orcs, imps and other filthy races in a common objective, to create a "nation of servitude", where any free man could satiate his lust with any woman without any restrains. One by one, the nations of The Order was stomped in a few months in total by the might of the nicknamed by the travelers "Horny Army", until the avatar of the Goddess herself was defiled after admitting defeat by Volt himself.
(In front of an audience… of her subjects… who also participated in the posterior orgy)
A few days after the final battle, in a bar of a village whose name I don't want to remember, the audacity of the Kuro Inu was commented by locals, some were scared of the fact that their mothers, sisters, daughters and/or lovers will have fornicate with somebody else, without any law that could stop it, others were instead laughing they asses off for the most ridiculous details of some of the battles.
"…then the imps say to the knights "surrender and we are not going to rape the nuns" "ok" the knights responded "fool you, now we are going to rape the nuns AND you, bunch of dumbasses" and then the kingdom of Virtuous Beauty was no more" a muscular unaffiliated mercenary was narrating to his fellow drinkers, who couldn't believe how dense the Order of Chivalry was.
"By the way, hic, which was the one who has the first dibs of the Knight Princess herself?" a random drunkard asked.
"World of street says was the First Minister himself, which it handily explain why this one kingdom was easier than usual" the mercenary answered, causing greats laughs and cheers come out of the listeners.
"I'm surprised that orcs, humans and others kinds allied themselves in a single band" one of the most sober listeners added.
"It's because the great Volt is that awesome piece of a leader, now we, the orcs and everyone else are just like brothers. Now! Everyone! Let us drink for the good heath of King Volt"
"FOR VOLT, FOR THE NEW KING, FOR THE KINGDOM OF SERVITUDE, HURRAY" Everyone cheered and drank for the victorious general and his new Age of pleasure.
The bartender instead was cleaning and preparing in anticipation more drinks, while also having his own talk with a brown haired and mildly shaved outsider in worn silver armor.
"So what now?" asked the bartender "Since the war is over and this place is very distant of the main cities, things are going to become very boring soon. I don't ever think that you may ever that axe of yours"
The man, looked at his a bit better treated weapon, an battle axe indeed, whose opaque blade still looked sharp enough tear somebody's guts and the short but wide handgrip which has also have many strings as ornament, "One always must be prepared, neither in war, nor peace, security can be guaranteed" answered, suddenly darkening the general mood "buuuuut also I plan travel tomorrow to the Capital, they say that there are going the best women in the whole region, a man have to fulfill his needs after all" added with a broad smile, earning more cheers from the clientele.
"Well good for you" the bartender say "By the way, what is your name?"
"Baculus, sir" was the answer "What's yours".
The bartender wanted to answer, but then a sudden slam to the door announced the arrival of someone so angry that not even a hard hit from a cyclops could calm it down.
"BARTENDER! WHERE IS MY BLOODY CANE!" screamed a medium sized, white haired and with a mustache, thin but surprising healthy (and furious) old man wearing a brown pants and a white but dirty shirt.
"For the love of Kos, Guillermo, first calm your shit down, or the patrons here will give you a much deserved date with the grim reaper" calming said the bartender, pointing out the main crowd who already looked the elder with unamused expressions "And for your information, you gave it to me last night to pay your booze until you reunited enough coins to take it back"
"In that case, how many crappy coins are then?"
"253 silver coins" Then there was a sudden silence.
Everyone in the bar was shocked that the angry elder owned that much, but for different reasons.
"WHAT?" "He drank that MUCH!?" "That old liver must made of great iron" "That's the weirdest magic I ever seen" "THAT expensive is the drink HERE?!" "How much this geezer broke yesterday?" "There was a wild orgy yesterday, and you didn't tell us?" "Are you a half-orc by the way?" These were the most common reactions.
"Hahahahahaha" The mercenary from the earlier tale laughed instead, looking to a still stunned Guillermo "That's a good one. Let me tell you something, geezer, for amusing me I propose you something, beat my best man in a combat outside this place" pointing a big, bald and burly barbarian and a deserted yard near the entry "and I will pay your debt, deal?" offered the leader, with his open hand.
Guillermo snapped back, calmed himself down, he looked at his powerful opponent and looked back the merc "I'm poor man, I don't much to lose. Grant me a whip or a stick and you got your battle, jarhead" answered, shaking hands and sealing the deal.
Almost every one of the patrons left the tavern, preparing everything to the ensuring fight, making their bets or just going straight to home or another place, except the bartender and Baculus.
"Do you know an inn that isn't also a brothel near here? I wish leave my manhood expresses himself only with the best ladies" asked Baculus.
"There is one at 300 yards in Norwest from here; you will recognize it for an old statue of a bunch of weirds imp-looking things in the entrance" answered the bartender.
"That old man just sentenced his very own funeral" Baculus said with a half-sad smile, packing his axe and a medium sized leather bag, preparing himself to leave the tavern too.
"Sometimes I wish that affirmations like yours were correct" muttered the bartender, preparing to close the place early.