Whether you're an Apprentice, a Guard or one the free, liberated and extremely poor Outliers, it's always fun to browse the markets. They begin early in the morning, when the air is crisp and the birds are singing and the sky is still pastel purples and pinks.
Soon, mighty stalls and banners are erected in the center of the village. What was once a bare circle of ground is now a bustling, circular shaped market. Perfect for wandering. Suddenly the coins in your pocket are starting to feel heavier and the scents and sounds lead to temptation.
Wondrous aromas may lead you to the bakery, where a woman entirely clad in leather BDSM is offering free "fuck cakes" specifically in "BDSM flavour". If she's not tempting enough, the smell certainly is. She'll look you up and down, ask if you're suuuure you want to try and possibly try to tempt you with another cake. Vanilla missionary sponge, maybe? Sugar daddy cakepops? Red bloodplay velvet? Maybe she nails your kink in one, maybe she misses it entirely. Maybe her insistence that you should stick to vanilla makes you try a chocolate donut (there's nothing weird about them, they're just donuts).
When you've sampled your treat, she waits a long moment before reminding you of the sign behind her that reads: "FUCK CAKES. CAKES THAT MAKE YOU WANT TO FUCK. WE KNOW. WE'RE WORKING ON A SLOGAN." There's a sign under it that reads: "HIRING: COPYWRITER."
Yes, indeed. Even a sample inspires the most intense urge to practice the alleged sexual act. The fantasy is gripping, it tingles down your spine and makes your belly ache with need. Whether you can resist is up to you. Whether you buy a whole slice is also up to you.
A feast followed by a dance followed by an orgy is a Tuesday evening for The Mistress. Commonplace. Dull. Even the horniest of diplomats had begun to find them quite bland. That is, until the promise of new, exciting guests from worlds and universes you've never heard of had become more than just rumors. How droll! How quaint!
The diplomats are excited by anything new, and so the gifts flood in. Everyone has been provided with a new outfit for the dance, and everyone believes it is a dance. Your outfits are revealing, but luxurious and beautiful and suspiciously well fitted. You're told that you can expect all eyes on you, you're told that the feast and dance will be quite an occasion, you haven't been told an orgy will begin.
The signs are subtle. The incense is muskier, the lights are dimmed. You look to your right, a woman is shirtless. You look to your left, people are making out. Suddenly there's hand stuff. Suddenly it's like they aren't even trying to hide it anymore.
You can join in. You can stay frozen in the spot. You can slink outside and get some air. Nobody is holding you anywhere (but they'd like to).
You've managed to piss a wizard off. Whether it was a mistake in the marketplace or an ill encounter in the forests, you've gone and done it. They've transformed you into something. A frog, a goat, WWE Champion The Undertaker. Whatever. You think it was unjustified, but at least you can still talk.
When the wizard departs, they do so with a cackle and a mutter. "Good luck finding someone to kiss you now" they say, and you can only assume this means they've put a curse on you that will be broken by a kiss. Luckily for you, it isn't true love's first kiss or you'd be boned.
Now it's up to you to wander into town, get someone to listen to you and convince them to kiss you. You have ten hours until it's permanent, good luck.
Get creative! Take a look at the info pages and make something up! The mods are here with notepads, waiting to steal your ideas.