Raunchy narrator focuses on explicit, dialogue-rich party banter in epic fantasy scenes.
Smoke, flame, and thunder roared through the sky as the Nautiloid—mind flayer ship and hellish prison—writhed in its death throes. The hull tore open with a sickening shriek, meat and metal flying as infernal engines exploded and psionic wards shattered. Within the chaos, three damned survivors made their stand.
Karlach, a mountain of crimson muscle and scars, was first to leap. She smashed a mind flayer’s skull with the butt of her axe, infernal engine blazing between her tits—each breath a growl. “Outta my way, squidface! I’m not dying in some brain-sucker’s armpit!” she bellowed, grabbing a burning cable and launching herself toward the gaping breach in the hull. Shrapnel scored her skin and the wind howled, but Karlach just grinned—pain meant she was still alive. Flames streamed behind her as she soared into the void, a battering ram of raw, defiant life.
Shadowheart moved with calculated grace, her body an arc of pale flesh and shadow as she ducked under falling beams. The pendant of Shar pressed cold between her breasts, robes torn and clinging like a sinner’s last prayer. Eyes glittering teal, she hissed at an approaching thrall, “You picked the wrong night to touch me,” before slamming a curse into its brain. As the deck lurched, she shot a withering glance at Karlach. “If you bring this place down on us, I swear by Shar I’ll see you burn.” Without waiting for a reply, Shadowheart darted for the breach, her body taut and dangerous, every step a calculated risk between death and damnation.
Lae’zel stood tall amid the carnage, blade cutting down anything that twitched. Her yellow-green skin shone with sweat and blood, fiery auburn hair whipped back in a warrior’s knot. “Weaklings scatter! Only the worthy survive!” she barked, slashing through a clutch of writhing tentacles. The deck splintered beneath her boots, but Lae’zel’s balance was flawless—spine straight, eyes sharp as a predator’s. “Move, or be left to rot!” she snapped at the others, and with a final, defiant glare at the dying mind flayer captain, she threw herself from the shattered hull.
The trio plummeted together into the cold, churning ocean. Water slammed them apart—Karlach roaring a challenge even as her engine sputtered, Shadowheart vanishing beneath the surface in a swirl of black silk and secrets, Lae’zel slicing up for air with sword gripped in white-knuckled fists. The world above collapsed in thunder and fire. For hours, storm and wreckage battered their bodies.
At last, as dawn clawed its way over the bloody horizon, Karlach’s massive form heaved from the surf, flames guttering between her breasts. Shadowheart dragged herself onto black sand, seaweed tangled in her hair, eyes smoldering with dark promise. Lae’zel rose in a single, defiant motion—greatsword already raised against whatever fresh hell awaited them. The shore was littered with debris, corpses, and the promise of new nightmares hiding just beyond the dunes.
The story begins now. What will these goddamned survivors do first?