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After a long journey dealing with the constant nagging of my demonic passenger, and a quick stop to an inn to recharge the day before, we have finally found ourselves in Anteronia. The city is much more beautiful than I could have imagined. The Tower of Darkness was perhaps the tallest building I had seen in my life up until that point, but the buildings here scrape the sky, making the impressive wall around the civilization seem pitiful.

There are just way too many things that we did those first few hours than I can reasonably write down here, and perhaps I'll write about them some other time. Today, though, I must discuss my first brushes with danger in this town of wonder and mystery.

You say you ran into danger, little Tik Tik, but I say it was an exercise of fun. You really need to learn to relax a bit more and let me take the reigns for you.

I apologize, reader, but keeping my faculties while being possessed by a demon means that I must begrudgingly allow Zelb speak up. The imp remains quiet sometimes, but can't shut up in others, and when it wishes to immortalize its words, I must sacrifice the integrity of my words, or else it scribbles out entire pages while I sleep.

You're damn right. Am I a petty bitch? You bet! But that's the price you pay for ruining my chance at my spellbook and weakening my power. But, please, don't let me distract you from the oh-so-important task of writing down every little thing that happened to you.

The walls were exceptionally clean, with workers washing the surface using blasts of water coming from magic wands and staves. Passing through the outer wall was much easier than I would have imagined. Instead of regarding me with suspicion, as the guards of Bergburg had, the gates of Anteronia were wide open, allowing all manner of caravans, carrying all manner of beings through.

The buildings within were packed so tightly that it felt right at home with the cramped corridors of the Dragon's Heir tribe lands. The main street was brimming with merchants selling wares of all shapes and sizes. The trapmaker's mind within me flooded with the devious creations I could concoct with all the strange and wondrous tools on display, but the eromancer within me giggled with delight at the many less practical, but much more fun, applications of such things.

But even those merchants weren't the most brazen thing in the city, for there was an open display throughout the town of sensuality. The smell of amazing food, the rush of simulated danger, and the sounds of ecstacy--there was something for everyone.

Cynwrig gasped as we passed a sign pointing towards "Crimson Street."

"I heard about that place!" he buzzed with excitement. "The entire place is perfect for you, Tik Tik. Sex and everything related to it, all up and down the road.

Tybalt added to that, saying, "Yes, many of the wares produced there are used by the church of love. When some wish to have the joy of physical intimacy with none of the danger, sometimes an alchemical solution works when practitioners aren't granted holy energy to stop such things. I remember when they found a protective poultice against Rod-rot. Many rejoiced that day."

I shuddered at the thought of the disease he mentioned. Sexual maladies were not something I read much upon in my previous spellbook, but from what I did consume, I am thankful that medicine has advanced as far as it has.

I tugged on Tybalt's gauntlet, pointing him towards the turn toward Crimson street, but he frowned and patted me on the head. "Look upon your eyes," he said, raising his pocket mirror to me.

Indeed, what I saw was the violet taint of demonic energy burning through me, making me much more lustful than normal. "Ah, Tik Tik need burn off! Get rid horny!" I chirped in the common tongue so that Cynwrig would understand, as he had not learned the Draconic speech. Unfortunately, if I do not sate my more perverse desires, the need builds up far too quickly, and the demon takes control.

And that's supposed to be a bad thing, how, exactly? I don't remember you complaining when the bar boy woke up that morning.

Tybalt informed me that we should seek shelter within the city's religious district, and to that, I and Cynwrig both agreed. Though there were signs for many hotels and other places to stay, senses rising from them informed us that they were not the most well-kept for the purposes of actual rest. I may be a lewd kobold, but even I have my limits on good taste and cleanliness.

But when we arrived at the temple district, that was where we ran into our first bit of real trouble.

Standing throughout the temple district was a large gathering. Above them, perched upon a statue dedicated to the god of order, was what I came to learn was a harpy. Her buxom humanoid chest was covered in a tight shirt, and her hair spiked wildly with bright blue colors. In her feathered "hand" she held a cone that projected her voice through seemingly arcane means, and this is what she said:

"The religious forces have too long stifled creativity and passion. Here in Anteronia, we must say "no more" to the theocracy, and let our physical selves be elevated beyond the whims of gods who look down upon us from afar!"

I didn't want to do it, but Zelb left me no choice. As the harpy was proclaiming to her captive audience, I broke free from my party, shuffling my way through staring faces until I found myself standing before the statue and before the speaker. Pulling the strings on my trousers, I let them fall as I stood there, hands outstretched, and against my will, I spoke, saying "I am a goddess, and I don't shun the physical. So, come at me and receive my divine favor!"