It is often said that it is far easier to break out of a fortress than to break in.
It just depends on how paranoid the fortress builders are.
Are. You. Kidding. Me?
In the middle of a cold autumn night, a certain elf HAD thought he had escaped.
He had successfully fooled his watchers into thinking he had gone to sleep.
He had successfully made it out of his surprisingly unlocked room.
He had successfully secured clothes.
Maybe.
Granted, they were a young girl’s clothes and they were a bright white in color, it was still better than nothing, right?
Maybe.
Then again, he clearly was not a human, had easy-to-spot silvery-blue hair, and his stealth capability was already in the negatives. Wearing a white dress straight out of a laundry bleach commercial couldn’t make things any worse, right?
Maybe.
The massive front door of the tower, built to withstand direct attacks by catapult (or the occasional rock-throwing giant), had also been surprisingly unlocked.
He had successfully grunted the damn thick thing open.
One might forgive him for thinking he was all clear.
Unfortunately, the people of Bowen Village were FAR more paranoid than he expected.
He was completely surrounded by walls again.
While the tower was a four-story building, the inner ring was three stories. The bottom floor was mostly wall, with the occasional door for the residents, while the upper two floors had fenced balconies for fresh air -- and for ease of anti-air archery should the tower be attacked. Also in front of him were two huge doors, just like the ones he had just passed through.
“Map.” He whispered.
The minimap turned back into the large scroll-looking version.
He wasn’t alone.
White NPC triangles moved sluggishly nearby. Due to the miracle known as “BLOODY COLD WEATHER”, they hadn’t noticed him yet, as two were pointed at each other to his right (he could hear quiet conversations), one on the opposite side of the tower moved back and forth (probably trying to stay warm), and the last one…
The last one was just to the left of him, less than fourteen feet away.
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Mike Evans was NOT having a good night.
He hiccuped a bit.
It's all that damn elf’s fault.
He liked LADIES, dammit. He shouldn’t be having thoughts about anyone other than Sister Teresa…
and Robin…
and May…
and Janet…
and Nancy…
… and either way, he wasn’t one of THOSE, alright? When Lord Bowen chewed him out for leaving his post and not guarding a possible intruder properly, he wasn’t aroused AT ALL, alright?
It's all that damn elf’s fault.
He had to do tonight’s shift walking the perimeter on this godforsaken night, in this godforsaken weather, freezing his ears off…
Ears…
The elf had those ears…
That song was right. Those ears were the elf’s weakpoint.
And when he had touched those ears…
NO!
Don’t think about it.
Do your job.
Stand out here and guard.
Look at that wall and make sure it doesn’t try anything.
Lean against this door so it doesn’t get stolen.
Stand out here and freeze.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
He took another gulp from his bottle.
It's all that damn elf’s fault.
He yawned, and then hiccuped again. The cold always made him feel sleepy, but tonight he was too wound up to sleep. Thank goodness he found that bottle of white liqueur Daniel Bowen hid behind his chair in the hallway. Somebody was looking out for him, because this was EXACTLY what he needed.
He yawned once more.
He drank once more.
The crouching position he took swiftly turned into a sitting position.
The wind didn’t blow around this section of wall.
Perhaps he was… having… a good night… after all…
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Perhaps he WAS having a good night, after all.
The guard next to the main doors looked asleep.
He just sat there, next to a small alcove between the main arch for the doors and the rest of the wall.
He was cradling a bottle of… milk? …in his arms.
Now’s my chance!
As quietly as he could, the barefoot elf crept towards the main doors.
They were locked.
Of course they are, dammit!
...
…
He looked at the guard, still asleep.
Perhaps… he has a key?
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Mike Evans awoke to cold, but not unwelcome, fingers in his pants.
He remembered this feeling…
Kathy used to greet him this way.
She said she liked saying “Hi” to his better half.
How nostalgic…
The hands… were wrong though.
They were gentler than Kathy’s.
Smaller.
Who…?
He opened his eyes to see a beautiful elf fumbling in his pockets.
You? I had the worst day because of…
The elf was wearing a white one-piece dress.
Oh.
Oh. So “he” was a “she” after all…
The elf was a girl.
There was nothing wrong with him.
This sudden turn of events made him VERY happy… in more than one way.
What a light dress though. Aren’t you cold?
She leaned over, and the baggy top part of her dress showed him a small paradise:
Two erect nipples.
The breasts were much, much smaller than he would have liked, but when a girl offers it is QUITE ungentlemanly to refuse, after all.
His right hand grabbed hers, and led it to the proper spot to rub.
His left hand plunged down her dress, and played with the closest nipple.
“[EEP!]”
The elf leaped away as though hit by a lightning bolt. A small bit of metal flew into the air and landed between the two. A key.
He chuckled the chuckle of a dirty old man as he unsteadily got up again.
"Now, now. YOU came to ME, after all..."
My apologies to Alkanyseus, but the village layout will have to wait until next chapter, and how magic works -- I do have it worked out and am looking forward to describing it to you -- will have to wait until my character successfully escapes the village... with or without his virginity...
"Where am I?"
"In the Village."
"What do you want?"
"Information."
"WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?"
"That would be telling. We want information... Information... INFORMATION..."
-- The Prisoner