On the morrow our hero, to cement his reputation as an adventurer, paid the Adventurer’s Guild a visit to register himself as one. The adventurers made our hero’s initiation a very big ceremony. They all gathered together with food and beer, forbade our hero from having any, unpantsed him, forced him upside, and each and every one spanked him, squeezed his genitals, threw goblets of wine at him, and beat him with sticks. The last part of the ritual involved penetrating his rear, but he had let out some wind so noxious that they could not bear it. As all of these steps were crucial, they could not admit him as a member, but they would try the next day.
When our hero told the healer, he replied the Adventurer’s Guild was in name only and merely a hangout for the city’s nobles when they were bored. No registration was actually needed to go on an adventure.
He then savagely beat our hero, much worse than the adventurers combined, such that it was hard to hide the wounds. When our hero had breath to speak, he asked him why he was treated this way; the healer replied he could not remember the beating, and drank more.
Though our hero was beaten quite a lot in the new world, more than he was in the old world, he felt deep anger at this beating, so deep it surprised him. When other people beat him, they felt they were above him. Because the healer treated him as an equal and shared pies with him, and even gave him a special armor made of mythril, and because the healer did not recall the beating and thus felt no need to apologize for it, our hero felt it was not justified. Though this anger was quite deep, he merely deposited it, as he did in the former world.
The forests were very active this season. The healer took a request to protect a town far from the city. Griffins had strangely built their nest near it while the townsfolk set up for a festival.
The healer was wily and set up traps consisting of nets. The nets were designed to trap the griffins’ wings, so they could not fly away from their slaughter.
Our hero felt this was a good plan and witnessed its execution in the town square. His relaxation allowed the griffins to eat him.
As griffins have no teeth, he dove headfirst, body intact, into the steaming intestines of the griffin, a jet of acid splashing his face. Fortunately the armor withstood the corrosive acid and he climbed his way through.
The griffin destroyed the townspeople’s homes, kicked them down, and ripped them apart with its beak. The townspeople cursed that their houses were made of sticks and straw. They then saw a curious sight: the griffin paused, scratched urgently some phantom itch, then began beating and scratching its rump against a tree. When in its agony it chanced to turn around, the townfolk saw our hero’s head poking out of its rump.
Our hero recalled he had a knife with him. Upon cutting his way through, the griffin’s innards collapsed, and our hero escaped on a tide of blood and fecal matter.
Having come from the griffin’s rear, our hero carried the griffin’s scent. He was covered in the pheromones that attracted male griffins, who then swooped down from the sky and stood proudly and erect before our hero. Because the lower half of a griffin is a lion’s, our hero stared at a palisade of long thick staves and felt terror.
Fortunately the townsfolk came, armed with swords and spears, and cut down and pierced these spears, spilling their blood onto the ground. This was a great good day for them, for griffin blood was considered crucial for male potency, and they poured it into bathtubs.
This season was often accompanied with the flights of love and in the celebration that evening our hero fell into a conversation with a local girl. They talked; she ignored his replies; because she was a brave girl she undressed him; as she undressed herself he closed his eyes, not believing the greatness of the moment. Strong arms held his back. He opened his eyes. The healer began beating him, for the state of the armor he had given him.
The healer kicked his body black and blue, and the girl returned to the arms of her lover. The bounties of the night seemed endless.
© 2025 François-Marie Lee