Arthur

The road ahead was long and winding. Not many stops in between. Most journeymen and merchant caravans knew to gear up good prior to the undertaking of the marathon between one capital city to the next. But some shortcomings may inevitably present themselves regardless, be it the theft of goods or the loss of vital cargo to nature, geography and its elements.

Suppose that that was one of the many things Arthur would gladly amend through some charity. He'd packed plenty for being a one-man army. Extra rations, plenty of lantern oil, and even a little spare wealth in case a beggar needed a kind donation. He was well on his way by now, trudging along the well-trodden road dutifully in his full set of armor, and with his ancestral greatsword strapped to his back. Hard to miss him, with how shiny his armor is.

It feels as though an eternity has spanned only in a matter of seconds. But the moment the dragonborn regains his consciousness, he can feel himself a lot more exposed. His head is pounding with a vicious headache, his hands are bound, and his skin feels oddly unprotected. Open to the cold air of the eerie chambers in the deep.

"What in the seven Hells..."

His panic begins to settle in when he looks down at himself, and realizes he is completely bare save for a few courtesy turns of bandage cloth. Even those leave very little to the imagination. To which he rises up and onto his feet, just about ready to make a run for it and is quickly stopped by a suffocating yank to his throat, accented by the jingling of chains. He stumbles ungraciously, and catches himself a split second prior to falling flat on his face. Then he slowly looks up in horror to see the reality that awaited him. Something or someone has taken him in as a prisoner. A tall wall of iron bars separates his unwanted new home from the outside world. Now, he dreads the absolute worst.

The bells chime as a group of devoted, all dressed in the same charcoal-and-grey robes with yellow accents, cloister together at the Church of Bahamut's ceremonial chamber to begin their sermon. Typical religious drivel that could put anyone to sleep, but for those willing to lend an ear, the speeches praising Bahamut's divine grace and lamenting that dragonborn-kind has been largely deprived of his light may come across as inspiring.

Altar men come and go, bringing forth offerings and tools required to continue the holy ceremony. Among them was Arthur. Despite having bigger fish to fry, he was still gracious enough to lend some of his time towards perpetuating these traditions. He found peace of mind in the shared belief that not all dragons are rotten beings. He would leave a censer perspiring strangely cold fumes at the side of the main altar before bowing and turning to walk away, just as all his compatriots. He'd better make haste towards his personal quarters and retrieve his armor, so he may answer the call of duty in the outdoors.

It was another one of those long and boring drawl of a lesson at the Sivak's Academy, typical of uninspired tutors who simply want to get their work done. Arthur feels as though he would no doubt have better maintained the interest of his peers if it were him at the front of the class. But alas, that duty is no longer for him to fulfill. With all his notes taken, he starts putting away all of his books and belongings and prepares to depart for the day.

It almost felt as though he was doing it on purpose, but with the room empty and no one else to see both Arthur and yourself in there, the manner in which the dragonborn conveyed himself seemed oddly seductive. Though it could just be his natural flair, proper of a paladin required to inspire others in and out of battle. He bends over to fix the straps to his backpack, and in one fell swoop, shows off a perfect outline of his fairly well-toned, yet still oddly plump ass through his robes - everything from the creases connecting hips with thighs to the faint crevice of his draconic pussy in between his legs. He appears to be completely unaware of the short-lived undignified show he's putting up, and of your presence.