Myds6

“Normal pie?” Broussard said in disbelief.

“No, Yvette, she’s from the capital. She’s here to help.”

Yvette, clad in a pair of unusual brass spectacles and a striped vest and trousers, looked guiltily between Auriane and Marjorie for a minute and then said, resignedly, “Well, in that case, it isn’t permanent. We just need to wash you down a bit.” She looked at the cream-covered archer in front of her. “Normal pie...�...

“Auriane?” the tiny woman replied, pulling a lever that caused a skylight to open and bathe the room in light, “Are you working with this rabble?”

“What did you do to me?” said Broussard, “I can’t see!” 

“Serves you right, sneaking around my workshop you Foxglove pig.”

As she turned to react, her whole world went white for a moment, then her eyes and nose started to sting.

Her hands went up to her face as her bow clattered to the floor. 

“Yvette!” Auriane called out, hoping not to be loud enough to attract attention from outside the building.

“Have at you!” said an aggressive but high-pitched female voice.

After sneaking behind a pair of guards who were engaged in a raucous conversation about which Plouffian ale is the best, Auriane and Marjorie Broussard arrived inside Yvette’s workshop.

As her eyes struggled to adjust to the relative darkness, the archer noticed that walls were hidden behind an eccentric collection of books, devices, jars, gears, and unrecognizable objects that littered the shelves. In the middle of one wall, the shelves were interrupted by a workbench desk covered in strange devices.

...

Story Catchup Post #2

Just the story, without the images, in case you need to read it with continuity.  Continuing from our last story catchup post.

Unknown to the town or its occupiers, Auriane, a villager who worked as a courier between Dacquoise and the capital, was on the road when the town was occupied. Fro...

A short time later, the three of them were sneaking up to the walls.

“It’s here,” Auriane said, pointing to a short section of wall that was low compared to the ground around it. A small pile of dirt, branches, and leaves made it climbable. “This is a security mistake,” Helena commented. “Yes, but teenagers use it to leave the village and return without getting caught. All small vi...

Auriane frowned. “No, sir. Dacquoise, as you know, is a village of farmers, millers, and bakers.”

“What DO they have that we could use, then, farm tools?” Broussard asked. 

“The tools would be out in the fields, and too heavy for us to bring enough to arm the populace. IT has to be something already in the town” Helena pointed out.

“Well, we have plenty of pastries, flour, honey.”

Helena...

“What’s your name, private?” the Knight asked. “Broussard, sir. Marjorie Broussard.”

“Well, private Broussard, you may be a hot-shot archer, but a soldier learns not to question the decisions of her sovereign.”

“No doubt she thought she needed every soldier to defend the capital,” the courier said.

“And she might be right,” Helena responded, “but as it is, only two...

“And that isn’t our biggest problem. I bet they have no weapons,” the archer chimed in. “Why couldn’t the queen have seen fit to send a detachment of troops to take the village back?”

“Look!” said Auriane the courier, dressed in a blue coat and beret, “they are dispersing the citizens.”

  “But what does that mean?” the archer replied.

“That’s good,” the knight responded, “we can’t take the village with just the three of us. We need help from the townspeople.” 

“None of them know how to fight, Lady Helena” Auriane said, “except maybe for the ones in the stocks....

“No offense, private, but I’m the most experienced among us,” an equally-freckled, green-armored knight with fiery red hair responded. “Every hour we wait, they might add more troops, and their grasp on the town tightens. We have to act now. And nothing about this operation is likely to be quiet. Only speed and surprise are on our side.”

“I say we wait until nightfall. It won’t be THAT long now. We can get in and get the job done quietly.” Said a freckled, athletic brunette dressed in a sleeveless chainmail and holding a bow.

On a hill above the city, three women dismounted and took stock of the strategic situation.

Work to carry on

Anyway, after some death (not me) and some illness (me), I am back.

I'll try to make any slow updates up to you soon.

Unexpected occurences

Had to be out of town for an emergency, but service will resume very soon.  I'm excited about what's coming.  I envisioned this part of the story from the start, so I'm really looking forward to seeing the images, once made.

“Well, now we just watch the bunch of your collect flies like the excrement you are, hmmm? Or are there perhaps more ways to have fun with you will you rot in the stocks?” Lorraine taunted.

“Who has the biggest and most luxurious house in the town?” Vittoria asked. “It would be this piggy, right here,” Lorraine said, pointing to Chorinna. “I’ll send my servants ahead to prepare for our stay,” the Venetian replied. “But we can enjoy our victory a little while longer,” she added, gesturing to the...

In short order, Lorraine hit Iris with a pie, while Vittoria did the same for Patrice.

“Well, now we just watch the bunch of your collect flies like the excrement you are, hmmm? Or are there perhaps more ways to have fun with you will you rot in the stocks?” Lorraine taunted.

“Speaking of cows, Clarabelle, I think this gross, runny cream smells a little over the hill. Let me know, as a cow, what you think.”

 Lorraine smacked the guard in the face with a pastry just as rotten as the one Vittoria had given Chorinna, but, for some reason, it was of much runnier consistency. Its drippiness did Clarabelle no favors, as it smelled even worse 

Chorinna sputtered as some of the spoiled cream went into her mouth. Vittoria smiled widely. “That was as enjoyable for me as it was disgusting for this little cow.”

Vittoria looked back for a moment, smiling, then slammed the pie into Chorinna’s face.

“Take your pick,” Lorraine replied. Vittoria observed the four women carefully. “This one has an intelligent, but haughty bearing.”

 Lorraine smiled, “Your perception is most precise. That’s the échevin of this little dunghole of a village.”  

Lorraine watched and smiled. Picking up one of the over-the-hill cream tarts, she passed it to Vittoria.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Vittoria grimaced at the smell of the pie, but Lorraine gestured to the pilloried women, and a smile crept across the Venetian’s face. “Which one shall I start with?” 

Unlike the others, Patrice didn’t jiggle. Instead, the loud smacks connected solidly with the firm little backside, eliciting a wordless high-pitched exclamation from the guard with every hit.

Things are about to change in Dacquoise

Expect the start of the twist to begin about August 4 or 5.  It won't be the last one in this very wacky story.

After a little while, Lorraine pointed at Patrice. “Get the skinny one now, then we’ll move on to act two.”

The side of Mercedes’ cutlass smacked against to the smallest, firmest target it had yet hit. 

“Get those huge panties off her, if you have to cut them off! They’re ruining our enjoyment of the view.” Mercedes nodded as Lorraine barked orders at her. Rowena herself had instructed them to listen to her, after all.

“Mercedes? No one said you can stop.” Lorraine said, gesturing to Clarabelle.

“Ah, Clarabelle. A great name for a milk cow. Perhaps I should milk you. It’s my job, after all,” she teased, as the flat of the guard’s sword reddened the chubby cheeks in front of her, making the large woman jiggle with each smack.

Patrice’s thin form contrasted with some of the fuller-figured women on stage as Veronica untied her and led her toward the stocks.

 More wiry than robust, Clarabelle had doubted her when she volunteered to serve in the town guard. She had proven herself in practice combat amongst others in the town, but, like Clarabelle and so many others, she had fallen far short when confronted by Rowena the Black.  “How’s this one so svelte in this town ...