Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

The floor is a polished stone, worn smooth by countless boots, and the walls are lined with trophies of past exploits- mounted heads of mythical beasts, which force me to stop in my tracks, my eyes drawn to the impressive displays of achievements.

To the left of the entrance, a massive dragon's head dominates the wall, its scales a deep emerald green that glistens even in the dim torchlight. Its eyes, now lifeless, are the size of dinner plates and seem to follow you as you move. The beast's maw is open, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth, each one as long as my forearm.

The plaque beneath it reads "Felgaris the Dreaded - Juvenile Dragon slain by the Silverblades."

That's just a teen?! How colossal would an ancient one be? Well, I believe it is safe to say that the dragon slayer title is going to elude me for a long while.

Next to the dragon's head is the head of a Chimera, its three snarling faces forever frozen in a snarl. The lion's head is the most prominent, its mane is a wild tangle of fur that still looks fierce despite its lifeless state. The goat's head juts out awkwardly from the side, its twisted horns adding a menacing touch.

The snake's head, emerging from the Chimera's back, has its fangs bared, and I can almost imagine it hissing even now. The plaque simply reads "Vanquished by the Bravehearts."

Further along the wall is the preserved body of a Griffin, its majestic wings spread wide as if ready to take flight. The feathers are a stunning mix of golden and white, and the creature's powerful talons are extended, as though reaching for prey. Its beak is sharp and curved, a reminder of the deadly force it once was. The nameplate underneath says "Defeated by the Dawnclaw."

In a corner, almost hidden in shadow, is the head of a Basilisk, its petrifying gaze now harmless. The eyes are covered with a thin layer of cloth, likely a precaution even in death. Its scales are dark and rough, a stark contrast to the other beasts. The teeth are jagged and uneven, hinting at the creature's venomous bite. The inscription reads "Killed by the Iron Shields."

Each trophy tells a story of peril and heroism, of battles fought and won. I find myself lost in the details, imagining the encounters that led to these beasts' demises. The craftsmanship involved in preserving them is remarkable, capturing the ferocity and grandeur of each creature perfectly.

Ayame nudges me gently, bringing me back to the present. I tear my eyes away from the trophies. We need to stay focused on our mission, but even as we move deeper into the guild, the images of those magnificent beasts linger in my mind, a reminder of the dangers that lurk in our world and the courage required to face them.

We continue our way past the trophies and are greeted by a large, open space. At the back, behind a burly guard, is the reception desk where several clerks are working diligently. For some reason, all of them are women, their presence adding a peculiar charm to the otherwise rugged atmosphere of the guild.

The reception desk is a hub of activity. Adventurers of all kinds are lined up, waiting to report their quests, collect rewards, or receive new assignments. The clerks, dressed in neat uniforms, handle the adventurers with professional efficiency, their hands moving quickly to process paperwork, distribute payments, and answer inquiries.

The burly guard in front of the desk keeps a watchful eye on everyone, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His imposing presence is a clear reminder that order is maintained here, despite the chaotic comings and goings of adventurers.

Ayame and I step up to the queue, waiting our turn. The clerks work swiftly, and it's not long before we're standing at the desk. The receptionist who greeted me is a young woman with long, blonde hair that cascades down her shoulders in gentle waves. She has a soft, welcoming expression, accentuated by her large, expressive blue eyes that seem to sparkle with warmth and kindness.

Her hair is partially braided and adorned with a blue headband, adding a touch of elegance and formality to her appearance. (picture)

She wears a blue vest over a white, long-sleeved blouse, which is complemented by a yellow ribbon tied neatly at the collar. Her outfit is both practical and stylish, reflecting her professional role within the guild. The vest is cinched at the waist with a brown belt, featuring an ornate medallion that likely signifies her affiliation with the guild.

A burgundy skirt completes her ensemble, flowing gracefully and adding to her refined look.

Her demeanor is both professional and approachable, making her an ideal first point of contact for adventurers entering the guild. The overall atmosphere of the guild, with its wooden interior and warm lighting, complements her appearance, creating a welcoming and reassuring environment for newcomers such as myself.

"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild. How can I assist you today?" she asks.

"I'm looking to register myself and my companion as adventurers." I reply curtly.

We are here to observe Ian, but I won't be allowed into the inn section without registering as a member first.

Thanks to Ayame's information I know that this process involves the prospective member putting his hand on an artifact that reveals his status window. This would be very problematic as I'm a primordial with 4 active classes, but I came prepared. Simply wishing to hide my race is enough;

[Name: Quinlan Noir]

[Race: Human]

[Title: -]

[Level: 6. XP 265/371]

[Class: Assassin lvl 6]

[Vitality: 26]

[Strength: 22]

[Agility: 25]

[Intelligence: 15]

[Wisdom: 15]

[Unused Skill Points: 10]

[Unused Attribute Points: 0]

This is just another instance where the primordial race's incredible adaptability shines.