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The Return of the Prodigal Son

I stare blankly at the humming blue lifestone outside Holtburg, while rubbing my throbbing head. The fatal blow Xenon delivered at the Altar seconds ago seems like a year in my past. I remember small tidbits of the morning but can't seem to make out why I traveled to the dangerous Direlands in search of Bael'Zharon's Altar and less of my abrupt return trip to Holtburg. Short visions play and replay in my mind, visions of Xenon, my all-to-eager guide, escorting me to such an unholy place. Visions of me reaching out to touch the cold stone of the Altar and the evil presence engulfing my soul. The last thing that flashes through my brain is the deathblow delivered by my newest enemy, Xenon of the Wind.

I stand up slowly, my legs still wobbly from my death recovery, or perhaps my legs are merely protesting the weight of my protruding gut. I stroke my belly like a mother would touch her newborn baby and begin stumbling towards Holtburg, or more precisely, the tavern. A good meal and small keg of ale should aid my healing process. Perhaps the company of one of the tavern tramps to lick my wounds and listen to my heroic trek to the Direlands and deep into the Accursed Halls. I jingle my coin purse only to discover its lack of pyreal. Well, no matter. My wit and charm will persuade the barkeep out of a meal and the ladies out of their dresses.

I swing the door to the tavern open and step into the dimly lit building. The aromas of stale beer, thick stews and old bile fill my nostrils, causing my mouth to salivate and my nipples to go erect. As I enter the drinking establishment, the chatter and general noise stops almost instantly. I look around to see each tavern patron looking back at me in a weird astonishment and dazed bafflement. This entrance reminds me of the one morning I came up to the tavern an early beer and I forgot to put my pants on.

"That's right Holtburg!" I bellow in my deepest voice, trying to look impressive on my first day back. "Break out the chastity belts for your daughters and lock up your livestock, the Swallow is back in town!" I stand there, shove my left hand into my pants to rid my testicles of an annoying itch and wait for the burst of cheers from the crowd. Instead each person returns to his or her previous conversations as if I never walked into the place. They'll slowly get over the shock, it'll just take some time, I think to myself as I stroll up to the bar, my paw still buried deep into the front of my trousers.

I plop down onto the barstool lazily and wait for the busy barkeep to come tend to me. My ass, much too large for the stool, slowly begins to envelop the seat, making it impossible to see the top of the stool. From a distance, it would probably look as if I had four wooden poles sticking out of my anus. Now only if I had some ass muscles, I could clench down onto the stool and sneak it out with me, never having to worry about a seat again. I pull my hand from my pants and wipe the sweat onto my tunic. Must've picked up some parasites in the Direlands, don't know what else would cause this itch. Just as I was about to order my meal, two pimply-faced teens sit next to me.

"Are you THE Unladen Swallow?" One says in a high-pitched crackling voice, as if a reedshark was biting down onto his nuts.

"That's right, pimple butt. The stud of Holtburg. And now that I'm a player killer, the one and only protector of this useless town."

"I told you Ellkol." The other pipes in, his voice changing octaves with almost every word. "If you had any schooling, you'd be smart enough to know that this is Unladen Swallow."

A look of anger crosses Ellkol's face. "I've said this a hundred times Cletus, I was home-schooled. Besides, Jiggles McMankleman said Swallow wouldn't be back from the Direlands for another week."

"You two bicker like a couple of schoolboys fighting over the same toy… in their underwear… wearing eyeliner and their bodies oiled up." My thoughts trail off and I shove my hand back into my sweaty groin. After a few minutes it reemerges to pick yesterday's dinner from my teeth. "Buy me some ale and food and I'll tell you my adventures of becoming a player killer. A story like this is sure to cause your balls to finally drop and maybe sprout a hair or two."

Almost immediately the food started appearing in front of me as the two eager lads, Ellkol and Cletus, ordered meals from the menu. Tall glasses of slightly chilled ales accompanied each steaming plate. I began slurping down each glass and devouring each plate of food, spouting a few words inbetween of my trip to become a disciple of Bael'Zharon. After the last gulp of brown ale I released a hearty belch, turned one ass cheek up and let go of an oily fart.

"Whoa, that one traveled across my fleshy fun bridge and tickled my ball sack!" I chuckle at my charming wit and sop the gravy off my chin with my tunic sleeve.

"Err, I don't get it." Ellkol says while fanning the cloud stench from the area. "Besides, shouldn't you wipe after a greasy fart like that?"

"Little man, I haven't wiped in three weeks, I'm definitely not gonna break my record for a little ass spray. Come with me to the cow pen lads. Let's see what Jiggles is up to and you all can fill me in on the state of Holtburg. I became a player killer because I was tired of being shoved around. Now that I'm both an expert cow killer and expert player killer I can put a stop to the harassment of the citizens of Holtburg." I swing the pub's door open and we step out into the warm morning sun.

"First tell me of this Funkmasta guy I keep hearing about." We stop around the back of the pub so I can relieve myself on the wall. "I hear he's a skilled killer and a threat to the peace of this town."

"Aye yes, a threat indeed." Cletus chimes in. "He's a tall man, about 6' 3" with an Afro that towers above that another foot or so. If you add in the hair pick that protrudes from his Afro, the man is at least seven and a half feet I would imagine."

"Yeah, yeah, I understand he's a lanky bitch. But what are his strengths? Weaknesses?" I shove my junk back into my pants and gaze down the hill towards the cow pen. Sex and a steak snack would be a great finish to my breakfast.

"He's really good at throwing weapons." Cletus continues, while shaking his head disapprovingly at the puddle of urine next to the pub. "He has a large gold medallion that he hides under his partially unbuttoned silk shirt. The edges are razor sharp."

"Don't forget his hairy chest and impressive bulge in his skin-tight white disco pants." Ellkol says, then realizes the stupidity in his talk. "Well those are threatening to me anyway…" His words trail off.

"Well I know how to throw a dagger better than anyone and I have bulges in places that no man should even see, so the man sounds like a wuss to me." I begin walking down the hill towards the cow pen, my semi-full stomach bouncing in unison with my breasts with each step. "I need a little lovin' before I can plan our defenses."

"We should've grabbed a tavern whore before leaving the pub then Swallow." Cletus looks back up the hill towards the tavern.

"Oh, I have something else in mind." My mouth salivates eagerly as I get closer to the cow pen. The cow glances towards me then lets out a bellow of fear as I approach her. Yes, it's good to be home.

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