After receiving the locals’ gratitude and settling into the cozy village inn, you’d think our mage and warrior would be ready for a well-earned rest. Not Fern. With a playful glint in her eyes, she suggested to her steadfast companion, Stark, that their evening didn’t have to end. A visit to the local tavern, she insisted, was the perfect way to unwind.
And what a night it was! Laughter, clinking mugs, and the warm glow of camaraderie filled the bar. Yet, as they finally stumbled back to the quiet of their inn room, Fern decided the real party was just beginning. The moment the door clicked shut, a different kind of tension filled the air. With the others already asleep down the hall, Fern turned to Stark with a look that was anything but tired.
But the real adventure, it seemed, was just beginning. Upon returning to the quiet hallways of their inn, a different energy took hold. Fern, feeling bold from the drink and the thrill of the day, turned to Stark with a purpose far beyond sleep. “Why should the party end here?” she murmured, a sly smile playing on her lips.
She struck an inviting pose. The curve of her hip, the knowing tilt of her head, it was a silent, potent tease meant for Stark’s eyes only. The message was clear: the night’s quest awaited, and it required no axes or spells, only passion.
