ThePhallocrat

I was as curious as you to know about Eddy’s lofty ambitions, but he made it clear he would say no more on the subject. He turned his attention instead to Itzal, ordering the assassin to remove my companion of the evening somewhere discreetly. Let him awaken in a ditch as though he’d gotten too drunk and I’d tossed him out. To be fair to my captor, it was a plausible enough story. It’s happened plenty of times. Grunting softly, Itzal tossed the naked man over their shoulder like he was a child a

Silence in the dark cell. The prisoner had stopped speaking, looking at his interrogator with open curiosity and a little mirth. Praetor Portius had stopped writing, his quill frozen on the page, staring at the wall in thought. His face was blank. Nearby, Tobias held his lantern and looked back and forth between his master and the man in the chains, but said not a word. At length, Portius stood, setting his book and quill onto the stool and stretching his back. Then he walked to the cell d

Don’t bother, daddy. I know exactly what you are about to ask. You want to know more about the individuals in question, this motley crew who saved me from a death sentence and folded me into their scheme. My accomplices in the high crimes and blasphemies that came next. That’s exactly the kind of thing you are looking for, isn’t it? The stuff your superiors *really* want to know. Who helped me do it, and why, and above all, no doubt: how they can be found. I’m happy to tell you all I know about

What a fun project! A playful, relatable, and tongue-in-cheek adaptation that manages to fully honor the spirit of the original. Congrats and thank you!

How am I laughing *and* choking up this often back and forth?? What a roller coaster. This blend of silly and sincere is absolutely pitch perfect and I'm eating it up. Also, thank you very much for this hahahaha:

This was an absolute delight. I both laughed and had my heartstrings pulled, and I love the idea of a gay reinterpretation of this story so much that I'm almost mad I didn't think of it myself. Look forward to reading the rest!

I'm hopeful we won't have such a long gap in the future, but I'm relieved you still enjoyed this installment. I don't intend to give up on this story, it's too much fun to write! Life happens, but I knew I'd come back this project eventually.

Very well, let us return once again to that dank and moldy cell in Countess Luchmere’s dungeons; quite oppressive at the time, but thinking back on it now it seemed positively comfortable compared to my current lodgings. Even though, as you will recall, I was wearing considerably less then than I am now, from the waist down at least. Dungeons aren’t exactly the sort of place you’d want to go *barefoot* in, let alone with all your bits hanging out. And yet, it was still a more pleasant experience

Apologies! I had an unexpectedly crazy summer full of distractions, most of which weren't of the pleasant kind. Sorta drained my well of creativity, on top of trying to decide exactly what's next for our bard. I do hope to continue this story when energy and ideas return to me, but its definitely encouraging to hear somebody is interested in more.

“I see,” Father Portius said, finishing a sentence in his notebook with a flourish of his quill, “It is as I suspected. You were groomed into this life of corruption, taken advantage of by a cad who preyed upon your youth.” For the first time since the inquisitor had entered the room, Froderick gathered himself and got onto his feet. The manacles at his hands and ankles made the maneuver difficult, not to mention the fact that the bard was obviously weak from malnutrition and lack of exerci

No, I had no thoughts of arson. Not yet. But a fire of a kind had started, that much is certain, a fire in my loins and in my heart. I wanted Eurig Sunshine. Wanted to have him, wanted to be him. Wanted to suck every bit of knowledge and confidence out of him by any means necessary. I was absolutely salivating for it. But how to accomplish it? That was the question. I barely slept a wink that night, pondering the problem. What approach would best entice such an experienced and well-travele

The bard suddenly stopped his tale there, leaving the three men in the cell stewing in a stunned silence. For several heartbeats, the quiet of the dark cell was broken only by the occasional sniffling from a teary-eyed Tobias in the corner. At last Father Portius withdrew a handkerchief from a robe pocket and thrust it at the young man with obvious annoyance. “In the name of the God, stop your sniveling,” Portius said, “It’s unseemly.” His assistant mumbled a barely audible apology a

You are special, indeed, daddy. It’s truly rare for a man to surprise me. Almost nobody ever wonders where we bards come from, or ever seems to consider we were once ordinary people born to parents in the ordinary way. Having no home or allegiance, I guess we seem to stand outside of such things, and by and large people talk to me as if I had been a bard since the dawn of time like some fae creature from an inhuman realm. I am not a person, you see, not in the same way as their fellow villagers

When Father Portius raised his hand suddenly, a finger pointing to the ceiling in a silencing gesture, he did not really expect the prisoner to obey. It had started to feel like nothing could stop the man’s glib tongue from wagging, like the imp would chatter them both to death. But to his surprise Froderick the bard fell silent at once, smirking with that infuriatingly appealing smug grin and looking at him with patient expectation. “A moment,” the praetor said, brow furrowed. He reread h

Very well then, let’s start at the beginning shall we? My name, as you so graciously introduced me, daddy, is Frodrick Zacharias Theodorius Aloicius Cooperation von Brinsbane. What do you mean “is that my real name”? Of course it is! It may not have been the one I was born with, true, but it’s no less real a name because I chose it than the one that was given to me that I never asked for nor barely remember. Here’s the first thing to learn about my kind, then. We make our own story, craft