Tekilia Pu'Tang's Amazing Short Stories: The Virtues of Pu'Tang

[Jotei]

Tekilia Pu'Tang's Amazing Short Stories: Tekilia the Magnanimous

Tekilia regarded the tall man suspiciously. He stank of soggy oats and burnt grass and wore the skirt of a Mithanielic schoolgirl. He looked half asleep and his arms and legs were riddled with bite marks. He was obviously mad.

The great man smiled stupidly at Tekilia and seemed locked in a battle with fatigue, struggling to keep his eyes open as he offered her a large brownie. She found no great dilemma in declining the man's hospitality. She'd be damned if she were going to ingest anything from that man, lest she fall into the same delirium. No, no brownies for her. Tekilia recognized uselessness when it presented itself. This man was useless.

Tekilia turned her attention from the useless tall man to a dark woman behind him. Her forehead swelled above her face not unlike Tekilia's bosom was want to from a corset. Tekilia had heard of this condition and felt a measure of pity for the woman. It was one among many reasons women ought not drink anything stronger than spring water for the length over of any pregnancy. Still, Tekilia could not help but marvel at the woman's extraordinary lack of wrinkles given her harsh treatment under the sun.

Tekilia found it all the more curious how the woman could maintain such a tone given she was more clothed than not and seemed to keep to the shade as she studied her accursed tome. She was dressed in fine silks and aside from her deformed cranium and charred flesh, she was strangely alluring. Tekilia felt an unnatural attraction toward the woman, something she was disinclined to attribute to her exotic features. Tekilia decided this woman would be marginally more useful than the tall man if for no other reason than more pleasant company.

Farther away sat a dour little man. He was far more fair skinned than the small men she'd met before and maintained a neatly trimmed beard. The ugly little man gave Tekilia an appreciable wink from where he sat, his back to the wall as he polished his axe. He appeared far more battle hardened than either the tall man or the dark woman, but as seemed to be the way of this particular brand of small man (Tekilia had learned there were many), he wore far too much to ever hope to be effective in combat. Tekilia decided he would be unreliable at best and unpredictable at worst.

Another small man sat in the shadows to her left. Tekilia attempted to orient herself as she turned to face him. He was smaller yet than the bearded small man and was robed in a garment smaller than the tall man's skirt. His bulbous little head bore an ill look as he greedily stroked one of the larger bones from a pile to his side.

The pile of bones abruptly sprang to life,

"Attacking Master," it droned in the foul voice of unlife.
"Back off Jobabn!" growled the little man.
"Calming down Master," replied the animated mass of bones as it promptly fell back to the disorganized pile it had sprang from.

Tekilia recoiled in disgust. She knew very little of magic, but what she did know was more than what she ever wished to know. There was no question about it, this little man was a necro...philliac. A corpsefucker. Tekilia decided her feet might find use of this little man.

Tekilia turned her attention to the last of the group. A pretty young elf crouched not far from the... disgusting little man. She was outfitted with a meticulously maintained suit of soft leathers and chain mail. She prodded at the ground with a small spade, careful not to dirty her hands as she extracted a small root with the care and practiced precision of a rodent at a trap.

A finely crafted short bow was strapped to her back with a brimming quiver of bone arrows and a wicked blade clung to each side of her small hips. While pretty, her face betrayed the youth belied by her girlish figure, small hips and a profoundly undeveloped bust. Tekilia felt a pang of pity for the young woman and shared in the girl's sorrow with a sincere look of understanding as the two locked eyes. The young woman blushed shamefully at Tekilia's superior figure. Tekilia blushed back uncomfortably, part in response to the girl's frank and absolute recognition of Tekilia's overwhelming superiority as a feminine creature and part in apathetic commiseration, shared shame of the girl's own inadequacy.

The elf quickly redirected her attention to the freshly harvested root, hastily stuffing it in one of her eight backpacks piled against the wall.

Tekilia felt compelled to comfor the girl, to help abate the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that was no doubt pumping through her young heart. Tekilia was not good with words though and had learned long ago that the words she did have were seldom of comfort. She decided to say nothing. Some things were better left unsaid. Truth was cold and reality cruel.

Tekilia shook herself from the girlish contemplations jostling the prodigious masses of flesh around which they swam in the process and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. She decided the elf would prove useful in a scrap, a delicate creature, but fit and lithe and disciplined and deft, much like herself in those regards.

Surely death was but a breath away for the poor fools. Alas, she could not abandon them to the ill fate they unwittingly pursued.

And so it was that Tekilia Putang, Mistress of right, Purveyor of Might, Seducer of Light joined a fledgling band of dullards and dimwits as savior in their crusade against the profane unlife of the Castle Mistmoore.

[Jotei]

Tekilia Pu'Tang's Amazing Short Stories:
Tekilia the Disciplined
Training at Sea

The passage to Faydwer was long and unsettling. Tekilia had witnessed firsthand the trickery and foul sorceries of the physically deficient and socially inept tome fondlers of the "arcane" arts. She knew the deceptions they were capable of and also knew them to be more show than substance. They'd sit for hours folded at the waist, their faces pressed firmly against their spell books spread before them and then they might stand briefly work some ineffective magics, exhausting their "mana" in the process, before seating themselves once more in faux meditation.

Fortunately, there weren't any "casters" around to further the drudgery of her voyage. No, Tekilia's journey was solitary. She was alone. Completely alone. That in itself was not unsettling in the least. No, solitude ever is the companion of greatness.The disturbing aspect was ship's a auto-locomotion. Absent both captain and crew, still the ship moved. No doubt by some queer magic.

Tekilia searched the vessel thrice over for the source, but thrice over her efforts were stymied by cowardly deceptions. In the end she resolved to let the wretch cower in the dark shadows of her splendor. She multiplied her training regimen tenfold.

Rising before the sun, she began each day scaling the mass nets with her hands and her hands alone. Her lithe form dangled elegantly below her powerful, but petite arms as she worked her way up and down the nets, using one less finger each pass, the first four-hundred passes and then alternating fingers for the next four-hundred.

When she was finished her forearms burned with intensity as she dangled from the apex of the nets. The sun had but groggily peaked around the horizon as she began her next exercise. Tekilia carefully and crisply lifted her legs, touching her toes to her hands and then lowered them.

Regularly pausing with attempts to ascertain her heading as a matter of course, she generally had no fucking idea which direction she was facing. She was not deterred though.She continued periodically checking her direction with increasing frequency until she realized she was beginning to obsess over it. It was rapidly becoming a formidable distraction from her training. Being a well disciplined girl of iron resolve she decided a rule was in order. She set a simple mental parameter for orienting (or attempting to orient) herself; she would only ever do so when turning left.

At first she found herself searching for excuses to turn left, but ultimately the necessity of a balanced exercise routine prevailed and the activity slipped to her subconscious, becoming automatic like the rhythmic beat of her heart and the measured pulse of her lungs.

By mid-morning, around the time the sun would find the will to rouse its lazy ass from the excess of its blissful slumber, Tekilia broke fast with a pair of delectable muffins she'd purchased from the West Freeport Costco. Daintily cupping one hand beneath her chin, she was careful not to drop any crumbs as the sun ruefully began its slothful march across the great Sky of Tears.

Having finished her muffins, Tekilia withdrew a sizable vial of Fizzlecutters SPF 5000 and lathered her exposed flesh creating a protective bulwark for her delicate skin against the desiccating salt spray and malicious rays of the blistering sun on the high sea. Her bare patches of skin shimmered like molten ivory as she stepped back onto the deck to face the freshly risen sun.

Fully refreshed, Tekilia set to the hard work of perfecting her martial technique. She practiced throughout the day, working and reworking through all 1018 sacred forms of her native PuTang. She worked tirelessly beneath the blazing sun. Her soft linen breeches clung to her shapely legs and delightful derriere like the second skin of Fizzlecutter's SPF 5000 plastering most of her upper body. And still she worked.

Eventually, exhausted, the sun relented. Sinking beneath the cool horizon of the evening sea, it retired for the night, but still Tekilia worked. Lune rose quietly in the night sky, her pale face smiling softly down on Tekilia. And still she worked. She worked well into the night with Lune and the stars as her silent companions before finally taking her leave.