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Draykan traded his close companionship with the temple and with Tybalt for the cold loneliness of the terrible place that he had once called home. Nestled into a mountain, hidden underneath and old watchtower, only those who had known of the place and experienced its terror first-hand would have any idea that it is actually here.

He descends past the facade, and stops in front of the old stone wall. Closing his eyes, he imagines the movements the cultists made to open the secret passage. He utters the word that finishes the ritual--"Zelbia," the goddess of one of the factions that worked here

There were many here--a conglomeration of evil that worked on every plot and whim that came to their mind. It is through these dark and empty halls that Draykan's life became a living hell. Though there there s no more life in these halls, the evil that saturates it chills him down to the core.

He stops his trek in front of a chamber, its floor stained brown with all matter of unspeakable punishments. For the longest time, this solitary patch of stone and masonry was not just an insignificant little room, it was home.

Draykan strikes the wall and unleashes a powerful roar the memories flooding back to him, but the fresh recollections of the strike of the cat and burning of brands disappears when he hears it: a muffled whimper that snaps him out of his fury.

The dragon rushes towards the direction. The walls echo with each footstep, but, as he traverses the halls, he feels the wind blow against his chest. Stopping in front of the wall, he feels the breeze, digs his fingers in, and, with a mighty roar, tears the wall apart to reveal the secret room within.

Into the chamber, the aura of magic creates a static hum all over Draykan's scales. He steps forward, undeterred by any danger. The darkness around him supernaturally dims his vision, until suddenly, a ray of light appears in the middle of his room, and floating in that beam is a pitiful sight.

She might have been an elf at one point in time, but now, she is merely a stump of a creature. Completely nude and bald, her mouth gagged with a ball and her eyes tied up in a bandage, she is deprived of most sensation in this arcane stasis.

Draykan steps up and reaches for her. The closer he gets, the more he realizes that her skin is flawless. Not a single scar mars her flesh where the amputations would have occurred. Was it magic that made her this way?"

Draykan's fingers brush over her cheek, and she tilts her head upwards, her lips quivering as she lets out a soft whimper.He stops and undoes the gag, letting it clatter to the floor.

Drool dribbles down along the corner of her mouth when she calls out. "Who's there? Do you want to use me?"

"What? No... I'm Draykan... I was a prisoner--an experiment-- here, too.

Her voice releases his name in a soft breath, her lips turning up to a smile.

"Don't be alarmed," he says. "I'm going to undo your blindfold."

"It won't matter," she says, a musical lilt added to her words. When he lets the fabric fall over her body, he gasps.

Through gray, unfocused eyes, the elf sees nothing. "I told you..."

"I'm going to get you out of here," he says, moving his hands down to hold onto her sides.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "S... sorry. It is painful. Dark magic..."

He stops, but then he says. "I know magic to counteract it. I am a student of the spirits of love. Perhaps their art will counter the darkness here as it has with the darkness within me."

"Show me," she whispers.

"I need to know your name," he adds, wrapping his arms around her, standing in the light and pulling her up against him, her body warm and soft against his scaled hide.

"Galenna..." she whispers.

"Then, Galenna... are you ready to receive the healing touch?" As he asks this, Draykan's lengths rise up, tenting in his pants and prodding at her sex.

Galenna gasps, her torso shuddering, but she closes her eyes and nods, hissing "Yes..."

He carries her out of the light, and Galenna groans, a subdued sort of sound. He finds a table and places her down upon it to lay upon her stomach. The cool metal against her skin makes her shiver. He falls to his knees and spreads her lips, admiring the glistening. Already, she is ready for hm, and they have only just met! Is this the power of a real knight of love?

He remembers Tybalt's tips. The most important is to service what his partner desires, so he leans in, rolling out his tongue, and pressing the impressive muscle up against her.

Her taste is sweet, more so than the High Priestess, and he delves within her, her gasps going from a low pained to a sharp surprise. Galenna wriggles under his actions as he plumbs deeper inside of her, lapping up every inch of her treat as he can.

Soon, however, her shuddering turns to higher groans, pained groans. He pulls his face back and licks his lips. "Is... is that not enough?"

She rolls back and forth over the table, moaning over and over again a word in what he thinks is elvish. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he says. "Galenna!"

She looks over her shoulder, though she can't see him. A blush flushes her face, her breath coming out as ragged gasps. "M.... More..."

He frowns. "Are you sure?"

"I... I can feel it.... soon. Yes. More..."

He nods, her whines of need fueling the fires of his own desire. He pulls his pants down, letting his twin lengths spring free. Scooping her up, he rolls her onto her back, her head dangling over the edge of the table. Then, his twin lengths brush up along her, teasing at her lips, sliding down her crack, meeting at both of her entrances.