Records - Kylie "Doom" Duhem - Prost

Hoisted on the shoulders of two exited & bloodied brothers, a laughing trophy of war, Kylie Duhem returned to to town a victorious survivor. A procession of a dozen caskets followed them in. The two men stumbled into the inn to cheers and hollers and set her down on her feet. Announcing victory in unison, they raised her arms in the air like a prized fighter.

"The Daemon God of Prost is dead!"
 
This night would be one of celebration and mourning, but the people of Prost were already free of the risen dungeon. None would sleep for the night was merry.

Often nude in town but for lace gold chains dripping down her frame. She was hot to the touch. Holy light seared her skin & blood would flow from her wounds. She would often ask to be rinsed with cold water. Rinse, heat, repeat.

"The sun does me favors." She would say to the prude folk.

Wounds closing up & scars fading in a few days after made her demigoddess pedigree apparent to all. She would play strength games with the bold, train, flirt, & stroke egos. Her favorite ladies and suitors would invariably bed with her before stays end for wild nights of sexual release. Without a doubt, the most popular adventurer of her generation.
 
"She shamelessly strides into hell itself, even returns! Cocky slut! Harlot crusader! Let not her gifted body & abilities seduce your stupidity! She is not your friend, lover or family! A weapon of the gods is sharp to all who touch!"

Oloosea, the village Hag of Prost, would speak of her treachery to a chorus of groans and eye rolls. Coarse words and curses falling on deaf ears. Her gnashing teeth and uncouth damning of this, "Kylie the Doomed" was not a convincing story the eager townsfolk.
 
To the hag, the truth of the matter was simple. Those who could not keep up with this hero, would fall behind & perish in her wake. Young healthy able bodied fools followed her lightly clad hardened body and free spirit into the depths. Easy food for the blood machine, endlessly fought by Kylie Duhem herself and all the other cursed heroes of this age, end of story. Her ritual preparations and long game blessings on the townsfolk of Prost could be unraveled by a few hot nights before a big dive. Tough souls inspired by loss and lust. Tomboy queens dying for their idol. Hopeless fools doting to seed her at any cost. These were threads of destiny easily cut.
  
"That bitch! Dragging all the healthy and horny to an early demise! I'd have a monster killer be an animal, a machine pariah. One does not inspire the beautiful foolish to die in arms with destiny, they must bear it in their stead! The sword of the stars strikes alone!"

In a world of endless nightmares above as below, many locals just think she was jealous, not that they would have said such. Oloosea did protect the village and provide many services after all. Just cut from different cloth. Kylie Doom ultimately outlived her and still carried on grinning, inspiring, fucking & clashing with the ever rising depths of the buried gods.
 
The name stuck.

Rub Gob Revelations

The Knights had ran off the goblin village but a familiar mouth had been spared. Chatting in a aloof and friendly manner, Darbie the "RubGob" pleaded for her life. Next to her was an exceptionally small massage parlor, and a curious man sized box with a cushioned hole in the side.

Grumbling amongst themselves they were to decide the fate of the detained Goblins. A handful survived the assault but with gnashing teeth and vengeful heart they were tossed in the ravine. 

Darbie, on the other hand made her own case.

"Yo'n know me I've had you in me!"

The knights looked at each other, perplexed.

"Covered n' armor don't got me fooled! I've sucked & fucked your cocks!"

The commander split his faltering ranks and stepped up to Darbie, unconvinced.

"We kill creatures like you. My men would never stoop to be provided fellatio by your likeness!"

Darbie wiggled her fat tits around laughing at the mans argument.

"They never stoop! I'm short! You've all had me at the fair! Paid rent for my rub parlor space ere! Sent me kids off across the land in their own cart, with a mule!"

The commander clenched his fist around his blade handle, ready to cut this lewd doubt seeding goblin asunder for her lies.

"Impossible! No goblin, enslaved or tamed is allowed at the regional fair. I shall split that smug face of yours!"

With a swift draw he raised his sword high, only to feel it held back by his men, all desperately calling for and end to the violence.

"Sir! Commander wait! The glory hole! It's really the one she claims! Don't do it! Sir!"

He strained against the group, eyes bulging, rage boiling.

"I will flay this snake mouthed monster for all of you fools!"

The squad squire came out from around the back of the tent with a stoic and unreadable look on his face.

"Commander, I read the graffio on the sides...This glory hole is in fact, the regular pleasure facility at the fair every season. There are crude love letters cut into the sides by some of our men, praising the mystery operators... holes."

Knocking his subordinates to the ground the commander seethed to the group eyes glossing over projecting to his disillusioned troops.

"I myself have received service at our HUMAN staffed glory hole last season! It was amazing! I would know if some sharp toothed village slag like this snuck into our ranks! I will-"

His rant was suddenly cut short by wet slopping sounds. 

In what the onlookers would later call whore magic, Darbie slipped the commanders dick right out of his codpiece and down her throat, with nothing more than her mouth. Hands still bound behind her. Tears filled his eyes as the physical memories of the warm summer fairgrounds returned to him. The love letter carved into the side of the box, was his.

"No! How!"

Darbie sloshed the commanders engorged dick out of her mouth. Dribbling his precum out onto her breasts with a broad smile.

"I file my teeth down dummy!"