Short Stories and poems

Dungeon Delving With Werewolves and Vampires

A TTRPG group gets some new players.

The muscular human was polishing the blades on their Great-axe. Anyone with decent eyesight would see the muscles, and know how strong they was, while those who really knew what to look for, would look into their eyes. Those eyes beheld the truth about the human. The foolish would see them as mere muscle, a pack animal, or even, some sort of sex slave for those who liked a bit of a challenge, but the smart ones would see the cunning, and calculating mind that belied their intelligence.

They were a Free Human. They had no Master. No one told them what they could, or couldn’t, do. A necklace of teeth and claws told others about what they’d been capable of doing. They had been hired to deal with a drake that was endangering the locals.

There was a noise behind them. Barely seeming to react, the human adjusted their hands’ positions, to use the axe quickly, if need be.

A male and female human both sat beside them. The male was armored, while the female wasn’t wearing much in that regard.

“Quiet night,” the armored one said. They looked at them. “I’m Randal. My sister is Rebeca.”

The muscular human blinked. “Forgive me, but, is that really your names?”



The scene shifted, to a table, where a group of young adults, a mixture of werewolves, vampires, and humans, were sitting around. A young male human, who had a collar indicating that he was a Pet, chuckled nervously.

“Um, sorry, I’m not too used to this,” he said, as he looked at the one he was speaking to, a male human that had some rather interesting markings upon them, and wore a necklace, one that had a collection of teeth and claws – a Feral.

“It’s alright, Randal,” the Feral said. “You and your sister probably didn’t expect to get to actually play anyways.”

A female human, who also wore the collar of Pet, looked at a female werewolf. “Um, thanks for helping my brother and I to make our characters, Mistress Sasha.”

The female werewolf waved her hand. “It’s not that difficult to make Sidekick characters, especially ones that compliment your owners.”

The Feral glanced at the two werewolves that had joined the group, in addition to the two pets. They too were brother and sister. The male liked playing the spell-slinging wizard, while the female liked to play a bow user. As a result, the pets, at their own requests, were playing something based off of a Guard and an Acolyte, allowing Randal to protect his Mistress, and allowing Rebeca to heal her Master, as need be. As a result, their characters were fairly basic - Defender Warrior and Expert Sidekick, respectively. By contrast, his own character was a full-fledged Barbarian, not some Tribal Warrior, one that was a Warrior Sidekick with the Attacker role, though he had no issues playing that sort of thing, if need be.

“We’re actually glad that you’re giving them a chance to play, and not merely making them something like Commoners, especially ones that don’t even have Sidekick classes,” said the male werewolf.

“I’m also glad that you don’t use the For Keeps rule,” the female werewolf said.

The Feral turned his head, and spat. “It’s a dumb homebrewed rule that some think is a true one.” He looked back at the pair. “Allegedly, the story is that a werewolf group had a human mascot, one sick with cancer, who liked playing Dungeon Delving with his Master. Cancer got real bad though – he had six months, or less. However, they wanted to be remembered, and thus wanted a nice send-off. So, with his permission, they agreed to give his character a Warrior’s Death, where he died trying to protect his Master. Then, to prevent the BBEG from turning him into an Evil Undead, the Character’s Master ate the body. Afterwards, the ill human’s owner gave them a nice send-off, as it were, as if that human was indeed their character, before gulping them down. Heartwarming story actually, one that I can respect.”

“The issue comes from those who believe that if a human character dies in the game, so should the human player in real life,” said Sasha. “We don’t approve of that sort of ruling. Now, if you want to give them a Belly Bath, or a Mock Draining, if their character dies in-game, that’s okay, but we don’t play For Keeps.”

“Unless you’re willing to play For Teeth,” said the Feral.

“How does that go?” the male werewolf asked.

The Feral looked at them. “Have you heard of this park’s Feral Hunts?”

The werewolf nodded. “We’d make an agreement, and I’d hunt you, right? I’d get First Dibs on some body part of yours when you died, if I caught you.”

The Feral nodded. “Likewise, I’d get to yank one of your teeth if you lost, and add it to my necklace.”

“It would be annoying to have a gap for a few weeks, but teeth grow back,” said the female. “So, what’s so special about the For Teeth rule?”

The Feral grinned. “Quantity.” He placed a pouch on the table, and opened it, revealing the glimmer of sharp, white, teeth. He then reached in, and carefully pulled one out, the rest following, attached to a length of sinew.

The werewolves, and pets, looked at the necklace, before looking at the Feral.

“Color me curious, but how did you manage to pull this off?” the female werewolf asked.

“Had a werewolf player, who was rather large, strong, and, if I’m being honest, very intimidating,” said Sasha. “He had this habit of trying to get his characters to sleep with those played by a female human pet that is owned by a vampire Park Ranger. He was also cheating, but because of how he did it, it was hard to prove.” She looked at the Feral. “That was when Steve here decided to join the group. He played as a Rogue, to match up against this fella’s Paladin.”

“Of course, Rodger didn’t like that Sasha was willing to let me play as a full character, and not as a mere sidekick,” said Steve. “He complained about that, until Sasha pointed out a clear fact – she’s the DM, and thus makes the rules.”

“So, what happened?” the male werewolf asked.

“Well, first thing you might want to know is this; a Feral is unlikely to just try to liberate a human that’s a Slave, Pet, or even Livestock, unless there’s a good enough reason for it,” said Steve. “If Randal and Rebeca were kin to me, I might have reason enough to try, especially if you were abusive to them.” He chuckled. “Still, I got a half-aunt that’s owned by this Garlic and Silver agent – she’s not in a hurry to get her freedom, and thus far, my father has respected her decision to remain with the one called Rex Fafnir.”

“You’re talking about one of the top GaS Agents in the area, right?” the female werewolf asked.

Steve nodded. “Father even helps him out on occasion, to try to catch difficult criminals,” he said. “Seems my grandfather, and even my grandmother, used to do something similar. But, back to as I was saying, there’s no reason for me to try to ‘liberate’ Randal or Rebeca, especially I don’t know if they have useful skills that my herd could use – like higher quality medical or food preparation knowledge – which would make up for the fact that they probably don’t know how to hunt or fight, although Rebeca might be a bit more useful, as she could have children at some point. Randal, he’d better either kill a deer, or a bear, or a dangerous enemy, or somehow save the life of a member of the herd he’s trying to join.” At this, he chuckled. “Know of one that did that actually, but I’ll talk about him and my half-sister later.”

“So, the average Feral isn’t going to just take someone like Randal or Rebeca, because they aren’t worth taking, right?” the female asked.

“Yes for two very good reasons,” said Steve. “The first being that every mouth that wants to eat has to be able to work for it, in some manner. Since neither of them know how to hunt, fish, or forage for food, they’ll need to provide some sort of trade as a means to make up for it – medicine, crafting needed items, know how to take care of plants in gardens, or some such thing – unless they somehow attract the attention of someone important to the herd, and do things for them.”

“Like what?” Randal asked, cautiously.

“Simply put – either you help them with their things, like making Strong Juice, or you make things easier for them, such as pleasuring and comforting them,” said Steve.

“So, help them with work, or have sex with them, right?” Rebeca asked.

Steve chuckled. “You’re not wrong, as that’s a possibility, but sometimes the older ones need an apprentice, or two, to pass on the important skills to, or a crippled one might benefit from someone who is skilled with giving out a basic massage to help relax a painful joint or two from either age or injury.”

“What’s the other reason you wouldn’t just liberate our pets?” the male werewolf asked.

“Searchers, and the like,” said Steve. “Unnecessary attention in the area isn’t too good – drives away wildlife, makes getting things trickier, and sooner or later, it can lead to trouble.” He frowned. “Sometimes a herd has to make a tough choice, and drop off both the would-be escapee, and the one that tried to liberate them, at the location of a vampire or werewolf that the herd knows of, in order to end the search in their area. Sometimes it’s enough. Sometimes, it’s not – in which case, the herd better move.”

“Have you ever seen it happen?” the female werewolf asked.

“Not personally, though the Wrangler herd did have to do some serious moving once, over forty years ago, because of a vampire being killed by a Greater Bear,” said Steve. “Lead to an interesting series of events, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll say that,” said Sasha. She looked at the siblings, werewolves and humans – each set were twins. “Long story short – his grandfather saved mine, getting seriously injured as a result. My grandfather Claimed him, got him declared Protected. Fast-forward a few decades, and there’s this park, established in their honor, more or less.”

The four looked around, admiring the view. The table, a large one, was an outdoor one.

“Anyways, back to the story,” said Sasha. “Rodger didn’t like Steve playing as a full-class character, while trying to make a claim upon a human pet that wasn’t his, while her owner was on duty. Likewise, he was also cheating – and Steve managed to figure out how.”

“Turns out that he was using four of those d20s – two red, two blue,” said Steve. “Now, while the colors don’t matter, nor the fact that he had four of them, but the important thing is, we didn’t know that he had two red and two blue d20s. We thought that it was simply a red and a blue. Long story short – he rolled high too often, even with Disadvantage. Then, I saw it. Thought that it was merely a trick of the shadow, until it happened again. Well, I got my own Real Life Sneak Attack trick.” Steve flicked his wrist, and a short blade came out from under a wide band he wore. “I grabbed his wrist, and held the blade against those blood vessels – he couldn’t tell if it was merely steel, or if it had been silvered. In any case he was surprised enough to drop all four d20s. Well, he complained, claimed that I’d acted with Aggression, and thus was to lose my Protected status, and thus he was within his rights to eat me. Well, we decided to have a Hunt, For Keeps. If he won, he’d get to eat me, a Prime Grade human worth over five million dollars. But, if he lost, well….” Steve indicated the necklace. “He learned to appreciate soup until his teeth finally grew back in, and has a yearlong ban from the park, for trying mess with the local Ferals in an inappropriate manner, officially.”

“Officially?” Randal asked.

“He had set up a buyer for that particular female human pet,” said Sasha. “She’s a B+ grade worth about a million dollars, and her unborn child, an A+ grade, is worth another two, and that’s in terms of meat value. Worth easily double that, given that she’s a Pet, though that barely matters, given the Emotional Damage that would have happened. So, he’s lucky that he’s just in trouble for interfering with the local wildlife.”

The werewolf siblings nodded at this. While Pet humans might have been worth more than Livestock humans, it was tricky to put a price on Emotional Damage, which could be a lot higher than meat value alone. A mere D- grade pet human, being petnapped could cost the abductor several million dollars, in Emotional Damage alone, despite being worth maybe half a million dollars normally. That particular werewolf had gotten away with what was basically a humiliating punishment for a misdemeanor.

“Still, I hope that I never have to do something like that again,” said Steve, as he put the necklace away. “He’d claimed that he was tough – I don’t think that he was. He was crying like a baby by the time I finished pulling the last one out.”

“So, what happened?” Rebeca asked. “Did you hit him with a club or something? Some of those teeth looked like they’d been broken.”

Steve grinned. “He wishes that I had,” the Feral said. “Dumb fool tripped on a root, and not even one that was hidden, and busted his jaw on a rock. Teeth were going to get yanked anyways – had to pull some from the roof of his mouth. It was kinda funny actually – then, we found out about the would-be selling attempt. Well, let’s just say that I took out the last tooth with a silvered blade – that will be one gap that’s permanent.”

The werewolf siblings chuckled nervously at this. It was a well-known fact that injuries caused to werewolves by silvered objects didn’t heal right, unless they’d consumed a hundred plus pounds of meat recently. The same thing happened with vampires injured by things that were infused with garlic oil or something similar.

“Um, back with the game,” said Randal. “Is it okay to play as something you’re not?”

“Well, if you wish to play as a werewolf, or a vampire, or one of these fantasy or sci-fi races, go ahead,” said Sasha. “You should see Steve’s impression of either a vampire or werewolf – sometimes it’s exceptionally funny, and other times, it’s downright scary.”

Randal chuckled nervously. “Useful to know, but not quite what I was talking about.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

Randal blushed. “Um, if I wanted to play as a female character, would that be okay?”

Steve chuckled. He then passed over his sheet, and tapped on the drawing of his character. Randal looked at it, his eyes widening as he looked at it.

“Seriously?” the human pet asked.

Steve grinned, as he took back his sheet. “Yep.”

“Mind if we take a look?” the male werewolf asked.

Steve nodded, and passed it over to them.

The werewolf siblings, and Rebeca took turns looking at it. The eyes of the three likewise widened upon seeing it.

The image was of a muscular woman, with cold-looking eyes. By her side was a great-axe. She wore a necklace full of teeth.

“Looks kind of like you, only, not quite,” said the female werewolf.

“Based it off of an image I saw of my paternal grandmother,” said Steve. “She was one of the most dangerous Ferals around, possibly more dangerous than my grandfather even. Easily a hundred vampires and werewolves lost their lives to them, combined.”

“And don’t you dare mess with his aunt,” said a vampire player. “Even while pregnant, she has no issues kicking a werewolf’s ass!”

Steve chuckled at this. “Aunt Roberta’s a handful if you upset her,” he said. “Got a lot of strong-willed females in my family, as well as males.” He looked at Randal. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you have a reason as to why you’d want to play as a female character?”

The pet human’s cheeks turned red, and he began to chuckle nervously. “Um, I like wearing female clothes.”

A werewolf player started to chuckle, only for Steve to look at them, all but causing them to become quiet.

“George, we know you like wearing drag,” the Feral said. “He’s not much different from you there.”

This caused everyone else to chuckle. While humans that were Slaves, Pets, and especially those that were Livestock, tended to be quiet, compliant, and demure, as were the Free Domesticated ones, Ferals had no issues speaking their mind to a Vampire or Werewolf. After all, while a Vampire or Werewolf might be able to easily force their will upon the average, Slave, Pet, Livestock, or Domesticated human, a Feral was a different creature. Ferals spoke their mind, and didn’t worry about what Vampires and Werewolves thought of them.

Steve looked back at Randal. “There’s no issues with you doing a cross-gender character,” he said. “We can even retcon the one you’re currently using to be female, if you want to go that way.”

Randal gave a polite smile. “Thank you.” He looked down at his sheet, before looking back at the Feral. “Do you ever get scared, playing with vampires and werewolves?”

Steve chuckled. “I’ve grown up with the Wolfe family in my life,” he said. “Sasha and I are pretty close, to be honest. Aunt Roberta and Uncle John aren’t the only Wrangler and Wolfe pairing, if you get my drift.”

“But, do you ever get scared?” Randal asked.

Steve grinned. “Yes, I get scared,” he said. “I get scared for the fool dumb enough to try to attack me, because I don’t know what I’ll do to them. I might merely be able to just settle for their teeth, and an understanding that they not do that again, or I might have to go all the way, and kill them.”

“Um, have you ever killed someone?” Rebeca asked.

“Thankfully, I haven’t had to worry about that,” said Steve, as he fingered the string of teeth and claws he wore. “Aside from Rodger’s teeth, I’ve only collected a tooth from one other.”

“Who?” Randal asked.

Sasha chuckled. “He earned one of mine during a Fun Hunt.” She then grinned as she looked at Steve. “On my next attempt though…” She licked her lips. “That was Certainly memorable.”

“Did you let her win?” Rebeca asked.

Steve looked at the female Pet. “No. She caught me fair and square, in accordance to the rules of a Fun Hunt.”

“So, what happened?” Randal asked.

Steve looked at the male Pet. He then chuckled. “Let’s just say that I’ve been Inside her, in Both senses of the phrase.”

“Um, did you enjoy it?” Rebeca asked. “As in, Really enjoy it?”

Steve looked at the two Pets. He looked at the subtle markings upon them – faint, but noticeable for those who knew what to look for. Among other things, they got sexually excited when being swallowed or drained – a trait highly common in those whose lines had been “Domesticated” for a long time, ten plus generations.

“Piece of advice, don’t go around asking Ferals That question, in That manner,” said Steve. “For them can be highly embarrassing if they do, as it means that, somewhere, in their lineage, there was a Highly Domesticated human – a Slave, Pet, Livestock, or a Free Domesticated one – that somehow managed to have a child with a Feral human.”

“Oh, sorry,” said Rebeca. “I didn’t know.”

“That being said, if what was said about my great-great grandfather was true, I’m proud to be of his line, as well as that of my great-grandfather, along with that of my grandfather, to say nothing about my own father,” said Steve. “They did things that Any Feral would give them the utmost respect for, even if they’d been enemies. They made the ultimate sacrifice, that of their life, to save that which is most precious – the life of their son. Great grandfather did something similar, as did my grandfather. Father hasn’t made that one, but he has been willing to do so at times. He was willing to throw away his Protected status, if it meant saving my half-sister.” He chuckled. “Funny how that turned out.” He then grinned. “Still, to answer your question; yes, I do find Belly Baths to be Very Pleasurable, as does most of those of my great-grandfather’s line – I hear that grandfather enjoyed it when he did it with Robert, and I know Aunt Roberta does when she does it with Uncle John. Don’t know about my father – I’ve never asked him, and he has never said if he does.”

“Have you ever thought about ending your life inside the belly of Mistress Sasha?” Randal asked.

Steve looked at him. Most pet humans tended to end their lives in the belly of their Masters, as did slaves. This was usually when they were in their late fifties, early sixties, although it did depend upon a number of things – health, money needed for the care for a human that was aging, what the human could still do, and perhaps even the mentality of the Master themselves. After all, past a certain point, the meat quality of even a Prime Grade human would start to decline. At a certain point, they were basically F-Grade – “Fertilizer Grade,” as the saying went.

Steve went through the scale in his head. F-Grade was only fit for Fertilizer. D was basically Pet/Livestock food for pets and livestock that ate meat that weren’t human – as in Dog Food. C-Grade was Common, where anyone could afford the human to eat it on a semi-regular basis. B-Grade was Better, and could be found in restaurants. A-Grade was Awesome, found in higher-end restaurants. This was followed by Prime Grade, and even the exceptionally rare Supreme Grade, who were usually used for breeding purposes, and very rarely ended up on the dinner table, unless they died. There were even those marked as G-Grade – Garbage not fit to be processed into fertilizer in the usual manner – but that tended to be even rarer than Supreme Grade.

“Another question to be careful of, because Ferals don’t fancy dying for no reason, and many would take exceptional offence to it,” he said, as he looked at Randal. “Still, if I had something like cancer, or I was seriously injured, with no chance of recovery, and survival was unlikely, maybe. However, I don’t plan on making that decision until I’m in my sixties, if not older, hopefully.”

He then looked at a calendar visible from the table – August 8th. He knew what it meant, in many ways. It was Big Meal Day – the Wolfes would be hosting a very large supper, filled with cattle, pig, sheep, deer, and more. All were welcomed to join in. It was also the anniversary of the day his grandfather had freed the Wolfe Family Farm herd.

“In any case, we have like an hour or so before we need to give up the table, so that it can be placed with the rest for the feast,” he said. “So, let’s get back to the game, and maybe folks will have some time for some fun before it’s time to actually eat.”

“He’s got a point,” said Sasha. “Let’s get onto it.”



The group of three female humans soon came upon the opening to the cave of the drake. They were scouting ahead of the rest. The human in armor was eager to enter, and put their spear to good use, and the acolyte was eager to follow. The woman with an axe grabbed them by the shoulders.

“Fools rush in, and get killed for no purpose, or reason,” she said. “Better to sneak in, get a good feel for where the traps are, or might be, along with if this drake is here, and what it’s up to. Also, I must ask you two an important question; are your Masters worth following and obeying?”

The two slaves looked at each other.

“Our Masters are good ones,” said the armored one.

“They’ve promised to have our lines decreed Protected for helping them,” said the acolyte. “Even if we don’t make it, our children will be Protected.”

The Feral nodded. “Commendable,” she said. “If nothing else, I’ll make sure that they keep their word, even if you’re dead.”

“Really?” the armored one asked.

The Feral tapped their tooth necklace. “Unless they wish to add their teeth to my necklace.”

“What are you doing this for?” the acolyte asked.

The Feral gave a gentle smile. “You’re not the only ones who have children that you wish to be Protected,” she said. “I want mine to be able to enter a shop, and buy something, and not end up as something to be bought or sold. The Lord of the area has promised me this, if I assist in this job.”

“What’s to make the Lord keep his promise?” the armored one asked.

“Never cross those who know your secrets, like how he got a particular set of scars from when he claimed to have killed a Greater Bear that was menacing some locals when he was younger,” said the Feral.

“Did you give him those scars?” the acolyte asked.

The Feral chuckled. “No, he got those from that bear alright,” she said. “However, I was the one to Kill the bear, After it had swiped him across the face, taking his eye at the same time. Guess it denned in an abandoned silver mine as it had silver dust on those claws, which is why the injuries inflicted upon werewolves never healed right, much like those the Lord got.”

“So, what’s to make sure that he keeps his word?” the armored one asked. “I mean, in case you die?”

“Oh, he’s got a teenage daughter that loves to walk through the woods without any protection from any guards,” the Feral said. “It would be a shame if something happened to her, because my mate told his warriors and hunters not to give her any covert protection from dangerous beasts and would-be abductors.”

“What does that mean?” the acolyte asked.

“The Lord keeping his word means that his daughter will Stay safe from those who would otherwise try to harm her,” the Feral said. “Mind you, he knows that my herd has been protecting her, so he wouldn’t want to jeopardize that little arrangement.”

“Why is that?” the armored one asked.

“We have an understanding, as it were,” said the Feral. “He doesn’t send his hunters after my herd, his people can come into the woods to get anything else they want. It would be very bad if things became otherwise.”

“How bad?” the acolyte asked.

“I’m sure that you’ve heard of the occasional vampire or werewolf that is found on the edge of town, all beaten up, with some of their teeth missing,” said the Feral. “Usually, they might have charges on them, like banditry and theft added to them, along with perhaps poaching, maybe even murder.”

The two slaves looked at each other. “Yes.”

“We tend to do that sort of thing,” said the Feral. “Now, imagine if we just let them do what they were doing, or applied the beatings to all who entered the woods, or even killed those that entered the woods heavily armed. We silver and garlic our weapons, at least those dedicated to fighting vampires and werewolves. Hit-and-run tactics is our style – we won’t be found if we don’t want to be found.”

“Sounds like you’d want folks to fear you as much as they’d fear one of these drakes,” said the armored one.

The Feral chuckled. “Wouldn’t mind if they did fear me,” she said. Then, she started sniffing. “Follow me.” She went into the woods.

The two human slaves followed after her. After a short distance, they stopped. The Feral knelt to look at something, like a strange log. She pulled out a knife, and began to dig away at a bump, revealing something oddly familiar to the slaves.

“What is that?” the armored one asked.

“That is a bone,” the Feral asked. She soon finished scraping, and pulled the bone out. It was a skull, of something canine. “Guess a drake’s stomach acid was too much for this werewolf to keep healing up from.”

“How do you know?” the acolyte asked.

“Cause enough damage to a werewolf or vampire, and either they’ll need food right away, or they will die, even when the cause of the injury Isn’t silver or garlic based,” the Feral said. “Being kept in a pool of acid will do enough damage, after a while. The healing ability runs out of fuel to make it work. Then, the victim dies.”

“Are you telling me that this is a drake’s toilet?” the armored one asked, as they glanced around.

Not too far away were more “logs”, some with even more bones exposed.

The Feral spat. “Looks like it.” They stood up, got out a flask, walked over to one set of bones, which, based on the lack of extra-long canines in the skull, was most likely human, and poured some of the contents of the flask onto the skull. “Rest easy,” they said. “Revenge for you is here.”

“Someone you knew?” the acolyte asked.

“No,” the Feral said. “Still, it’s a good idea to show some respect for the dead.”

“What’s in that flask?” the armored one asked.

“Strong Juice,” the Feral said. “Made from grapes and apples, in this case. Useful for peaceful chats, cleaning wounds, and telling the spirits of the dead to pass on to the Afterlife. Also useful for cooking too.”

“What kind of stuff do you cook with it?” the acolyte asked.

“Meat is a popular option,” the Feral said. “Chicken, rabbit, mutton, venison, beef, and so on.” They looked at the two slaves. “As it is, I hear from trustworthy werewolves that humans marinated in it taste pretty good.”

“You mean, if we were to fall in battle, you’d pour some of that on us, so that we’d taste better to our Masters?” the armored one asked.

“I’d pour it on you to help your souls pass on,” said the Feral. “Your bodies tasting better to your Masters happens to be a secondary benefit.” She checked to make sure that the flask was sealed. “Also, I’ve found the back way in – should be less traps, if there’s any.”

“Do you think that there are traps?” the acolyte asked.

“Drakes aren’t stupid,” said the Feral. “They know how to make pit traps and hide them. We’d best get the rest.”



“So, you’ve found a back way onto the den,” said a heavily armored vampire.

“Pretty sure of it,” the Feral said. “That, or something that we could use to sneak inside of the place, without setting off too many traps.”

“So, what’s the plan you think would work best here?” the vampire asked.

“We divide into two groups,” the Feral said. “First group enters through the front way – acts as a decoy, as well as a first front. Second group enters through the back way – takes the drake by surprise when it’s attacked from behind.”

The vampire nodded. “Good idea. We’ll use it. Do you want to lead the Decoy group, or lead the second group?”

“Decoy group,” the Feral said. “That way you can rescue any prisoners that are in the back, and not worry about if they’ll do something foolish.”

“I’m somewhat surprised that you’re willing to let a Feral lead a group,” said a wizard. “I mean, my sister and I were still surprised at you allowing them, along with our slaves, do the scouting.”

“Abdulla here has led her herd against plenty that would threaten our area, including bandits and renegades that would destroy our city,” the vampire said. “She’s earned our Lord’s respect in this sort of thing.” They then looked at Abdulla. “Who do you want in the group?”

The female Feral pointed at the two slaves, and their Masters. “Those four. If nothing else, we’ll distract the drake long enough for the rest of you to free any prisoners, and attack the drake from an angle it isn’t expecting.”

“So, what if there’s more than one drake?” the armored slave asked.

“Then we’d better fight harder to distract them all,” said Abdulla. She then sketched a diagram of the layout on the ground. “Here’s the main entrance.” She placed a rock on the ground. “Over here is the rear opening.” She shoved a stick into it. “We’ll distract from the front, you take them from the rear.”

“So, while they hammer on you, we’ll stab them in the ass,” the vampire said.

Abdulla grinned. “A good analogy.” She looked at the rest of the group. “Good enough?”

The others agreed.

“Let’s move out,” said Abdulla.



Abdulla and her group were at the entrance.

“Remember to watch your spells, arrows, javelins, and anything else you might let loose or throw,” said Abdulla. “There are potentially prisoners in there, as well as our other teammates. Likewise, I’ll be Very upset if one of you got me from behind. I’ll be collecting your teeth for that.” She fingered her necklace.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” said the archer.

“Alright, let’s go,” said Abdulla.



The battle turned out to be much harder than expected. There wasn’t just one drake, nor two, but three of them. And that was just those that Abdulla and her group were facing. The Feral human heard more sounds as she swung her axe, trying to kill the drake she was facing. The armored slave was battling a second, and the archer was directly facing a third, when that one had showed up. The acolyte slave was trying to heal those who were injured, but they ran out of that ability rather quickly.

Then, a blow came that changed everything. The second drake hit the armored slave pretty hard, sending them into a wall, badly injuring the slave, before turning upon the archer. Abdulla swung her axe, scoring a good blow upon her opponent, only for the second drake to make an attack upon the archer. The blow hit – the armored slave, who had somehow found the strength to place herself between the drake and her Master. The werewolf’s face was one of shock and fear, which turned to anger, as the slave flew into the wall again. She struck the third drake, trying to kill it quickly, before the second one tried to fight her again, or even the acolyte slave, who wore very little in the way of armor, and wasn’t all that good at taking damage.

However, none were more surprised, than there werewolves, when Abdulla, in a fit of rage, managed to decapitate her foe. Then, she threw her axe, and planted it into the back of the second drake’s head, killing it, finally. She then grabbed the armored slave’s fallen spear, and together with the archer, took on the third drake. With some assistance from the wizard, the third creature was soon killed.

The archer looked at Abdulla. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“You’re part of my herd,” said Abdulla, as she removed her axe from the second drake’s head.

They walked over to the fallen armored slave. Abdulla looked them over. She’d seen death plenty of times to know that the slave wasn’t long for this world. Granted, it was possible that one of the other might have some healing magic left, but given the sounds she was hearing, it was rather low.

“Abdulla, do you have any of that Strong Juice?” the armored slave gasped out.

Abdulla nodded, and got the flask out.

“Mind if I have a drink before you….” She started to cough.

“You may.”

The Feral helped placed the drink to the slave’s lips, and helped her to take a sip.

“That was wonderful,” the slave said. “I wish that I could have more.”

“We’ll see.” Abdulla got out a cloth, wetted it, and wiped the slave’s face with it. “Just in case.”

“Thank you.”

“You rest, until we get back,” said Abdulla, as she put the flask away. She looked at the other three. “We’ll leave her off to the side, and see about helping the rest. Then we’ll come back, and either heal her, or give her a Hero’s Funeral Feast.”

“What’s with the flask?” the wizard asked.

“Strong Juice, this version being an apple cider-grape wine blend,” said Abdulla. “It will allow her sprite to enter the Afterlife, and make her body taste better, if she doesn’t make it. Now, let’s go.”

At this, the group ran further into the den. They soon came in contact with the rest, who were battling four drakes.

Abdulla let out a roar as she charged into the fight, taking out the drake that was threatening the armored vampire, as the archer charged another.

“Thanks,” the vampire said, catching his breath.

“Tell me that you still got some healing power in you?” Abdulla all but demanded.

“Some,” the vampire said, quickly looking the arriving help over. “Who needs me?”

“The armored slave – we had to leave her back there,” said Abdulla.

“Understood,” said the vampire. “Got to deal with these first.”

“Understood.”

They re-engaged the drakes. Soon, the creatures were dead.

Abdulla and the rest were tired.

“Were there any prisoners?” the Feral asked.

The vampire nodded. “Sent them out the back way. We were coming towards the front when we encountered this group. Glad you got here when you did. A few were about to go down.”

Abdulla looked them over. “They can have drake blood and meat to use to heal up. This human needs something else.”

“Right,” the vampire said. “Better hurry.”

The group ran as fast as they could. But when they got to the armored slave, she was already dead.

“Is there anything you can do?” the acolyte asked.

“I lack the power to bring the dead back to life,” the vampire said.

At this, the acolyte began to cry. She sat down in the dirt floor, and held onto her sister.

Abdulla looked at the archer. “You’d better make sure that her offspring are Protected, or I’ll be coming for your teeth, and I might use silver to get them out.”

“I understand,” the archer said. “Mind if I try that Strong Juice?”

Abdulla passed the flask over.

“Mmm, tasty,” the archer said, after a swig. “Got more of this? It should pair well with her.”

Abdulla nodded. “I got plenty.” She took the flask back. “Now, let’s get her out of here.”



A little while later, Abdulla was looking at the dead slave, as it roasted over the fire, alongside some deer. She’d poured plenty of Strong Juice as the body cooked, once it had been gutted and cleaned out, the more edible organs cooking in more of the strong drink. Soon enough, the body was placed before the archer, who said some nice words before they basically swallowed the body.

Abdulla looked at the woods. Soon, she’d be home, awaiting word from the Lord, over if her herd was indeed decreed Protected for doing this job. But, that would be later. But for now, there was the matter of bringing in the drakes’ heads, after she removed teeth from them.



The table erupted in cheers at a job done well. The exception was Randal. He was crying.

“She’s dead,” he said, as he looked at the 1 that was up.

Steve smiled. “True, but look at it this way; she died protecting someone she cared for.” He looked towards the human’s Master, before looking back at him. “Heck, she didn’t even tell you to use your Reaction to take the hit. You just did it. That is something that a Feral, like myself, can admire.”

Randal looked at him. “Really?”

Steve nodded. “And since we tend to put something of ourselves into our characters, I have to wonder if you, yourself, would do something similar, if the situation occurred. If that’s true, then you probably would be able to join a Feral herd fairly easily.”

Randal smiled at this. “Um, thanks.”

“And with that, there’s thirty minutes to have some fun if you want to have Fun Belly Baths, sex, or whatever,” said Sasha.

“Say, do you got any of that Strong Juice you mentioned?” the female werewolf asked, as she eyed Randal.

“I got the non-alcoholic version,” Steve said, as he set a flask on the table. He also set down a cloth. He looked at Randal. “So, do you want me to wipe your face before your Mistress has fun with you?”

Randal smiled. “Sure.”

“Could you do me too?” Rebeca asked.

Steve looked at her. “Sure.”

Steve wetted the cloth, and then wiped the faces of the two pets. Then, their Masters removed their clothes, and loosened their own. Steve watched as the two werewolves gently held onto the pet humans, placed their jaws over the heads, and soon, began the process of swallowing them down.

A little bit later, the werewolves finished.

“That juice sure added to it,” the male said.

“That it did,” the female said.

Sasha set down a timer. “Ten minutes – give you time for pleasure, and time to clean them up.”

“I’ll be in Cabin 8,” said Steve.

“I’ll see you there,” Sasha said, as she started to clean things up.

“Kinda surprised that he’s not helping,” said the female werewolf. She groaned in pleasure. “Ah, Randal, that feels Good. Rub me some more there.”

“Steve has his reasons,” said Sasha. “Trust me there.”



A little while later, Sasha was in Cabin 8.

Steve was looking down at his groin. “Every time.”

Sasha walked up to him. “Still like that?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “I’m lucky that I was able to walk without bumping into someone.”

“In that case, let me help you out,” Sasha said, as she removed her clothes.

“Do you want to?” Steve asked.

“I wouldn’t have gotten naked otherwise,” said Sasha. “So, do you want help?”

Steve removed his clothes, revealing his issue.

“Well, time to fix your problem.”



Soon enough, Steve was in a Very relaxed state, as he kissed Sasha.

“Feeling better?” Sasha asked.

“I guess,” said Steve. “Gets embarrassing, you know.”

“Maybe, but I know of one benefit,” said Sasha.

“Besides giving us an excuse to have sex, what?” Steve asked.

“No pups,” said Sasha.

Steve chuckled at this. “Right.”

“So, what do you think of these four?” Sasha asked.

“They seem to be okay,” said Steve. “They played well.”

Sasha smiled. “Good to hear,” she said. She held up a damp cloth. “Now, let’s enhance your taste a bit.”

It didn’t take the werewolf long to wipe the human’s face, and in short order, gulped them down.

“Ah,” she said. “You taste so good.”

“Ten minutes,” came Steve’s muffled voice.

“Of course,” Sasha said, setting a timer. “So, what classes do you think those two will want to be?”

“Probably a Champion Fighter and a Life Cleric,” said Steve, as he rubbed Sasha’s belly.

“Good choices, and, oh, that’s a good spot Steve,” said Sasha. “Keep it up.”

“Sure thing, Sasha.”

“I wonder what they will name their characters.”

“I wonder that too.”