Ram'adelle the creamy coated centaur

A long while in a fast yet bumpy ride then we stopped at the town's park where trees and bushes mimicked the houses arranged in grids, maketh a perfect cover for star-struck lovers to sucked lips and occasionally the long sausage of pure meat and said same bushes of all colored shrubs did gave us cover.

People buzzing here or anywhere in the town, so were the guards with the speed of always late– Almost all of them flocked to the scene in the inn, lucky for us there were fewer audiences leftovers so busy or sophisticated enough to not care of a meagre burning house or a fucking full throttle centaur stampeding on the road with a naked afro dangling his treasures in one hand and a puking mess leaving behind gunks of trail in the other but as it seemed we were left to our own fuckery, nude and puking to be direct.

Halting its hooves that crackled with every steps at the thickest reaches of the park, the centaur dropped its grip on Rip- the latter then in a forthwith dropped on all fours and puked a much deserved bittery gunks of the night before's diet, this was his second song of hurl.

"Yeah serves you right!" I flattered myself in his demise, standing buck nude and over him.

Times I spent to savor his torture, "It's impossible for me to help you." Jeering at him, a medicine for how he treated me before.

"Fu-rlcgh– Fuck you!" he barely uttered with a finger he showed me.

"I can't even look at you right now, disgusting!" I was on a roll, jokes just slip off of the tongue.

Though finally I sought it best to leave him to his own pukes for I haven't thank the mighty one who saved us.

"Thank you!" I turned to the centaur with the privates pendulous in motion as I did but as though its might comes with the costs of being timid, the mighty creature as I spoke to- Abruptly turned and faced me not.

Set aback by how the mighty reacted, I thought, 'Are they so manly that thanking them is disgusting?' I was not sure if the magnificent mighty being with a horse's ass was a player like thine or a normie of the world, scanning the horse's ass flaunting man did not occur to thine in that time.

A timid mighty force of nature- I found no words for such a predicament, "Uh!" searching the archives of the brain to search for any a thing to let thine tongue spout, as I guessed in the while the great mighty thing brought out a sheet of paper and a pen with a feathered butt.

It looked on up at whatever amongst the cloud and with a heavy thump of a mighty leg he jotted then showed, "I saw the three men coming after you from the ruckus and some people there were taking videos I think."

"Oh!" nodded I, maybe it was just shy?

"It's okay I don't mind… it grew!" my tongue spoke true but what the thing said irked me an angry vein in the forehead as I thought, 'Its a player too? And he can be a centaur?' I was maddened- more so now than ever at the fucking wisp, the little shit gave them this forms whilst I was made to adorn this afro and that I know cause there were not any item described for an ability to shapeshift in the guide that I half-heartedly skimmed through. Only weapons, chests, shoulders, gauntlets, boots and leg armors were all the items that could boost you in terms of combat.

Each one with different qualities gives you the possibility to enchant it with a core, a higher ranked core for a better metal and that in turn boosts your over-all mana numbers.

And since the centaur had not used his aura, twas clear now that what the wisp called a fucking head start was available for all and out of all possibilities the little shit gave me an afro.

Gritted the teeth I did- promising to chew the wisp if I ever saw the little shit again, "Thank you again!" I bowed even though twas boiling red in the heart, 'I could be a mythical thing not a mythical afro adorner!!!'

"I ran past some Knights on my way there, figured they are on their way to the inn and since I figured you'd be suspects I dragged you out before they could get there." He wrote, I could not at all saw any skin showing from his armour, bulky and big and mighty armor he donned, he was magnificent.

Never heard any tones yet his words and the way his feathered butt pen carried out his sentences spoke him as- an emotionless marauder, he was strictly crude and on point in his verbs and all.

Before I could say a thing, he crumbled the paper in his palm and straightened it soon after to show whatever he wrote before being erased and with the pen with feather butt he jotted, "Here's a pair of shorts I made."

Handing me a shorts of white with the most famous yet inaccurate sign of a heart of pink riddled all over it, but twas a choice I had not to deny it, 'How can such a manly beast got a hold of this?' I thought.

Rip finally came-to with the most sunken eyes I'd ever seen him possessed, "Howdy! I'd rate you four outta ten cause that ain't fucking smooth!"

He barely made an eye contact with the centaur, they looked at each other for a while and later the centaur shied away and showed Rip a note after some scribbles, "You should drink some purple ginger tea for a weak stomach."

"Wh-what is that? Is that some medical prescription? Are you a doctor now?"

Twas clear Rip was agitated, near to a snarl.

"Chill! The dude can't talk! Right?" I chimed in a smile to ease, as I faced and asked the mighty centaur however- it did not reply.

Stead he crumbled the paper and unfurled the creases and jotted, "Since you're safe now I'm about to leave, I have some affairs to take care of. Watch your backs guys."

"Oh okay! Thank you again boss!" said I, bowing as do my ancestors taught thine.

Rip was standing still with sunken eyes and malnourished cheeks, dude pukes his fats away or so it seemed.

I pulled the puke master leaker by the hand to join me in the bow, twas like pulling a glue hardend cloth, brisk he seemed he nearly folded his waist as he bowed, "Let's thank him together." I offered a reasonably thankful expression.

"Whatever!" he weakly replied.

"On my mark- One, two, three… Thank you!" we both lauded the mighty descent with a horse's ass.

The centaur was taken a back a little, arching his waist, the point where the merger of human and horse began as we thanked the man, then he shakily nodded and turned his great silky horse-ass.

"Oh! Wait please boss!" a thought sparked in the mind as I called, "Could you take us to the Blacksmith? My friend here repaired his and me as you could see.." I waved the hands to let any who saw bask in my greek enforced maximum body-beauty, "Really need it or else the ladies won't wait to be perfectly ripened fore they wanted to be eaten by me."

That was borderline a risky joke but t'were men we were all so- Fuck you!

"Also we haven't got your name yet so.. first of all I'm Lock and this is Rip… and it seems like you hid your profile too so we would be honoured to know the mighty one who saved us."

It was always the roughened things that appeal to thine eyes, the buffy, the strong and the man with a horse's ass was one of the things- even more so with the greatest of great axe that could behead a Giant in a single swing, with every words I etched in an ounce of utter respect.

The man with the horse's ass summoned his twirly-whirly, the neat inventory space which we could summon anywhere but you gotta have a spacial pouch on you for it to work.

Reaching down he brought out his ID, colored brown, rugged and rough by touch.

Ram'adelle

Rank: Archon.

Warrunners: Advocate.

Was what it wrote.

"An advocate?" Rip hollered out loud, he was void of loudness just before, "Man how the fuck do people get those? Mine just says Stars-Descent and Reindale, fucking unfair!!"

To which I creaked a smile from ear to ear, leering almost at Rip.

"Fuck you too Lock! This like your third night or something and your lucky ass got a Gold Hermes."

Mention of Gold Hermes made Ram the man with horse's ass exclaimed aloud, "Waa!" he went, high pitched even through the echoes of his full faced golden helmet, through it all it still rather sounded mellow.

Quickly he then covered his helmet where his mouth would be, shaking his head whilst in the beat of hearing him yelp- it lined our eyes, unimpressed and detached from how he looked and what thine imagined how he'd sounded, "It's not matching at all." Side lips whispered at Rip as I leaned closer.

"Not at all." He did the same.

"It made sense now.. the notes." Said I.

"I'd do the same. If it was me."

Ram stood there mum, faintly he might've heard our little flat-linned whispers, with not any other motion but the sound of his pauldrons clanking against his thick breastplate, monstrous and arms clad in gauntlets- He–calm and slowly unsheathed the giant great axe from his back.

Twas enough than more to halt our little talks, as he brought it prepped and readied before his tall stature- twas clear the thing was a portable guillotine, as tall as yours and with a thick metal end that had an utterly compliable nature of persuasion, the size of the afro and sharper still.

"We heard nothing!" I immediately claimed, a palm out and held up at the sides to show I need not lie with a hearty short chortle.

"We promise we didn't hear a thing!" Rip joined in, always playing the bestest wing man.