Possible non-serious speculation
Quintillus eyed the Champion warily. Nursing his beer, he couldn't help but feel paranoid. The Champion always acted as a paragon, fighting back against demons and cultists alike. Always prepared to risk life and to part with coin to even the smallest of troubles of the people of the Frost Marches. They were the closest to being a hero that Quin have ever met, but he never believed in heroes. His ear's itched and he would have never survived the Talons and the Cult if he didn't pay attention.
It started so slowly at first. A freak accident with an ancient pair of cursed armor. One in million happenstance and his burly friend became a sweet maiden. Looking at Brienne, he knew that was when he should have made a break for it. But thinking about Tollus and his ilk stayed his feet and besides there was no possible way the champion could have known what would have happened.
Arona was next. Impressed by the "vigor" of the champion, she declared that they were the only one worthy and one night and broken bed later it was done. That was just how orcs did things, Quin said to himself.
Next it turned out that the pendant the champion always wore contained the soul of a powerful kitsune. By the time the champion was able to get her free they were on the 34th. They were now on there 51st. It explained why the champion was always happy going to sleep and a bit exhausted when they got up.
It just got stranger from there. The deal the Champion and Atugia made with the Baroness. The time Azyrran and Liaden wanted a surrogate. The epic quest that the Champion went to restore Cait's standing with the Mallachites that just so happen to undo a certain mark, a fact that was celebrated by the Champion and Cait that night. And the less said about the craziness that surrounded Berwyn and Matiha the better.
By the time Quin realized what was happening, he was already surrounded. Looking at his friends, colleagues, and compatriots smiling over at the next table rubbing their full bellies with glee. Quin knew that he, for the short period of time that he was to continue to be a he, was next. And the scariest part for him was that a small part of him was looking forward to it.
Quintillus eyed the Champion warily. Nursing his beer, he couldn't help but feel paranoid. The Champion always acted as a paragon, fighting back against demons and cultists alike. Always prepared to risk life and to part with coin to even the smallest of troubles of the people of the Frost Marches. They were the closest to being a hero that Quin have ever met, but he never believed in heroes. His ear's itched and he would have never survived the Talons and the Cult if he didn't pay attention.
It started so slowly at first. A freak accident with an ancient pair of cursed armor. One in million happenstance and his burly friend became a sweet maiden. Looking at Brienne, he knew that was when he should have made a break for it. But thinking about Tollus and his ilk stayed his feet and besides there was no possible way the champion could have known what would have happened.
Arona was next. Impressed by the "vigor" of the champion, she declared that they were the only one worthy and one night and broken bed later it was done. That was just how orcs did things, Quin said to himself.
Next it turned out that the pendant the champion always wore contained the soul of a powerful kitsune. By the time the champion was able to get her free they were on the 34th. They were now on there 51st. It explained why the champion was always happy going to sleep and a bit exhausted when they got up.
It just got stranger from there. The deal the Champion and Atugia made with the Baroness. The time Azyrran and Liaden wanted a surrogate. The epic quest that the Champion went to restore Cait's standing with the Mallachites that just so happen to undo a certain mark, a fact that was celebrated by the Champion and Cait that night. And the less said about the craziness that surrounded Berwyn and Matiha the better.
By the time Quin realized what was happening, he was already surrounded. Looking at his friends, colleagues, and compatriots smiling over at the next table rubbing their full bellies with glee. Quin knew that he, for the short period of time that he was to continue to be a he, was next. And the scariest part for him was that a small part of him was looking forward to it.