Chapter 69

The three intrepid adventurers marched out of the mouth of the tomb, blinking against the light of the sun as they ducked under the jaw of the ancient giant’s skull. Young Timmy Nettles had spent the afternoon chewing on long pieces of grass nervously as he lingered higher up on the hill, and when he heard the sound of movement down below him, he tensed, grabbing for the pile of fist-sized rocks he’d collected as a just-in-case pile of ammunition.

He’d heard some horrible sounds echoing out of the mouth of the skull and the tunnels beyond. And then there had been the occasional rumble of the wildlife in the area. He was even half-sure he’d seen a dragon fly by, far overhead. It might have been a vulture, but he was pretty sure it had been a dragon.

The three women who he had led to the ancient tomb looked awfully different when they came out again.

Olivia of Parnasus was gleaming in silver and yellow, wearing a brand new breastplate and helm. The bare steel of the armour was polished to a light-catching sheen, but most of the armour was painted in a bright, daisy yellow that would stand out on any battlefield. Shockingly, while the helmet was fairly consistent with the Imperial Gallic styles of the old Southern Kingdoms bordering the deserts beyond, with a short brim to protect the forehead from a direct swing and cheek plates to protect the face, along with a red and yellow crest of horse hair running along the top, the breastplate seemed to have been made for her. It hugged her long torso and curves perfectly, and just like a show fighter whose armour might be formed into the shape of an ideal muscled torso, this breastplate was shaped in the form of a woman of immense appeal, but also strength. Breasts, complete with small silver nipples, sat above a row of armour abs, and even the back was like looking at the graceful, lithe back of a nude beauty. She was entirely covered from hip to neck, and yet somehow it felt like spying on her bathing in the river just to behold Olivia striding forward confidently in that armour.

Next came Jade Highkick, tall ears twitching as she took in the surroundings around the hill. She was still comfortably clothed in the travelling clothes she had marched the King’s Road a week ago, looking a little worse for wear after their journeys through the deep forests, but slung upon her back was a rainbow coloured bag that seemed to weigh almost nothing, and looked almost full to bursting at the same time. The flap and mouth of the bag seemed to almost be a face, smiling at all who beheld it. In counterpoint to that pleasant, almost jolly, addition to the hare-woman’s equipment was the thin, spiked chain draped like a belt around her waist. The sheen of it was strangely mottled, as if it were some oil-slick alloy of a dozen metals, and each contending with each other to seem like the true core of the chain. Strangest of all, at each end of the long chain, was a heavy metal ball about the size of a fist, each featuring a carved, monstrous face with fangs that looked ready to animate, bite and swallow anything they stuck.

Last, but certainly not least, came Renee de l’Ombres, and for a moment, Timmy Nettles thought that the sorceress had undergone some horrible corruption, deep in the ancient tomb. She was all shadows and darkness, hovering like a haunting ghost behind her two friends, her face a ghastly, pale vision that could only belong to the dead. But as she stood upright, the sorceress cast back the hood of her new cloak, revealing that her beauty remained unmarred beneath the long head covering, and that the unnatural swirling of the thin, dark cloak, even without a touch of breeze in the clearing, was what made her seem to be floating. That cloak was not her only prize, however, as she also now wore a large amulet in the middle of her chest, sitting in the open space between the embroidered breasts of her robe. It was a large black pearl, almost the size of a dagger pommel, set in a heavy silver circlet etched with ancient runes. Under the light of the sun, the dark pearl gleamed like it was trying to soak up those rays.

“In any other game, I’d complain about Titty Armour,” Rhia snorted, smirking once I was done describing the three of them in their new looted gear. “But I guess it makes sense for your world.”

“Totally impractical,” Tori agreed. “And plenty of people have proven it online. But it still sounds hot.”

“Can I try and pinch the nipple of the armour and see if she feels it?” Elyse giggled, shooting an evil grin across the table at Rhia.