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The Bull-Headed God

• Chapter 4 of the Legends of the DragonRider

Anitra smiled winsomely at the profusely-sweating merchant as she pushed the contract across the table towards him. "So you see, once I started asking around for a place to buy large quantities of chilies, your name came up again and again. Clearly, there is no better choice for this. Everyone back home is clamoring to try chilies after hearing about them from me, and who else but you would be able to prepare a caravan of them in a decent time-frame?" The merchant nodded absently as he reluctantly gazed down at the contract, his eyes widening at the price he was being offered for his inventory. "I... suppose I_do_ have the capacity for this... though my caravans usually don't travel... well, that far."

Seeing as he specialized in the potent spices of the jungle, characterized by most who hadn't grown up with them as being 'like eating fire, literally', that was rather accurate. His markets had been entirely internal. Until now. "I must admit, this whole... 'foreign trade' thing makes me a bit nervous. Seems... risky." His hands were twitching, as if he was restraining them from reaching for the nearby feather-pen. She shrugged, flashing him another charming smile. "It is not without risks, of course. But surely, you did not become one of the top merchants in Ganarãjya without being willing to take a risk or two, hmm? In the end, foreign trade is no different to internal trade - you merely accept a slightly higher risk, in return for a vastly greater reward."

The merchant bit his lip, looking at the numbers on the contract, temptation and rationality warring with faith and prudence. Inwards, she sighed, while carefully maintaining her diplomatic expression. Getting this guy to cave would have been SO much faster and easier if she'd been able to use the full arsenal of her seductive gifts... but alas, everyone knew that she was married to some big-shot from her mysterious homeland of Utopia, so it would never do for her to appear to fuck around. Thus, she was limited to using more... economic means to woo her targets.

The contract was quite real, though. Blake had sent word of their adventures to some friends back home, and as a result, several other dragons had expressed an interest in trying those 'chili' things. And since the Dragon Utopia WAS trading with select foreigners now, why not set up a caravan? Thus, her carefully-crafted cover as an emissary seeking trade had effectively become reality, albeit still secondary to her true objective. Add to that the rising demand for various alchemical herbs, roots and other plants by the alchemists and sages that had moved into the Utopia, and she'd found herself with a number of very real, very profitable contracts to parcel out with a bit of help from the Maharajah.

It would've been funny if it wasn't so frustrating, really. She'd noticed from the start that the Maharajah marshaled his political influence in the same way he'd mobilize his military forces - and indeed, the situation was playing out like a protracted campaign. The High Priest had apparently recognized that he wouldn't be able to effectively negotiate with the keen-minded Maharajah - who had, at one point, ruefully commented that he'd become somewhat of a victim of his own success - and had thus elected to stonewall, essentially creating a diplomatic siege. If he wouldn't come to the negotiating-table, he could not be convinced... so now, it was just a matter of cutting off his supply-lines, and then wait for his priests to literally start starving.

The merchant finally nodded. "Yes... I suppose you're right. Prosperity does not come to those unwilling to take risks. And the price you're offering for my goods are certainly... persuasive." With a sigh, he picked up the pen, dipped it in his inkwell, and scribbled his name in a nigh-unreadable scrawl at the bottom of the contract. She beamed at him as he blew on the ink to dry it, then picked up the priceless piece of parchment and carefully rolled it up. "I am SO glad you reached that decision! And of course, the Maharajah will be overjoyed to hear that you have elected to join the rest of us in pursuing greater prosperity for all through foreign trade. I will pass word to my homeland to expect the first caravan soon - your traders will receive a royal welcome, I assure you." The merchant winced, then nodded jerkily. "Yes... of course. By all means, give my highest regard to the Maharajah. I am, as ever, his loyal subject." His voice was heavy and dull, and he didn't really look like a man who'd just signed the deal of a lifetime.

She ignored his tone, and nodded brightly before making her excuses and leaving his moderately-prosperous store. The income from his new Ganarãjya-Utopia trade-route would soon see him moving up to the higher reaches of the city, enjoying a palatial lifestyle alongside his family. Of course, the fact that he wouldn't be making any more large donations to the Temple of Sargonnas would help his economy too. He'd been one of their main supporters, his focus on the internal spice-trade giving him a keen self-interest in the isolationist, and by extension protectionist, policies espoused and supported by the Temple. Now, though, he'd effectively thrown in his lot with the Palace's progressive elements, signing over his loyalty to the Maharajah in the same moment he signed the trade-agreement.

He'd been the last holdout, too. Of course, the 'common folk' would continue to donate to the temple - a silver here, a few copper there - but even with the high attendance the Temple enjoyed, that income simply wasn't enough to support all the expenses associated with maintaining the temple-building, feeding the priests and acolytes, and particularly ensuring that the holy White Bulls who served as the earthly avatars of their god, Sargonnas, lived lives of suitably luxury. Something they had, by all accounts, been heavily focused on for the last couple of years - ever since the Maharajah had outlawed their traditional 'sacrifices' "in the name of Foreign Relations".

Seeing as she hadn't been able to let on that she already knew quite a bit about the traditional 'sacrifices' - with an insider's perspective, even - she'd wound up getting a whole lecture about it, when it had come up during a discussion about the Temple and the Maharajah had rushed to reassure her that he'd personally put a stop to that barbaric practice. Apparently, in ancient times, the priests had basically been able to select a girl from the city's populace, every year on the Day of the Bull - Sargonnas' biggest festival. A beauty-pageant had been held, with all girls in the right age-bracket participating by law, and all but the most devout hoping to the high heavens that they wouldn't 'win'. But as the power of the Palace and the Maharajah had grown, this right of the Temple had... waned.

For the past several generations, the girls had been, in a sense, 'volunteers'. Or rather, volunteered by their parents. Some handed over their daughters simply because they couldn't afford another mouth to feed (contraceptive herbs being, as Anitra had already heard, rather expensive in Ganarãjya due to the high demand that their generally sex-positive culture sparked.) Others were devout enough to believe that it would be a great honor for their daughter to be chosen as a sacrifice to Sargonnas, or believed that they would receive some sort of divine favor for it. Worst of all, though, was the fact that those who had been convicted by the Temple for breaking the Laws of Sargonnas (a completely separate set of laws from those enforced by the Palace and its earthly authority, and which the Temple retained the power to enforce despite generations of Maharajahs chipping away at it) could receive leniency if they happened to have a daughter of suitable age, and turned her over as a 'demonstration of faith'.

From what she'd heard, that was exactly how her old 'friend', Satya, had wound up in the temple. She'd been one of the last couple of sacrifices before the Maharajah had managed to marshal enough influence to get the practice shut down for good. He'd actually used the fact that she'd wound up being kidnapped by foreign raiders while sequestered in one of the Temple's hideaways as a lever, claiming that her fate - as one of the vanishingly rare 'Favored of Sargonnas' who survived their initial sacrifice - demonstrated that Sargonnas did not, in fact, hold the sacrifices in any particular regard. After all, if he valued them as much as the Temple claimed, then surely he would have protected that girl, no? And in the end, it had worked. The last of the girls who had been living inside the Temple, working as base (and unpaid) servants until the day they might be 'chosen', had been turned over to a state-run orphanage, with a couple being swiftly reclaimed by their original parents. (Who would, Anitra thought, have a lot of explaining to do once their daughters were old enough to start asking piercing questions.)

Walking through the streets of Akshardham, Melora in bodyguard-mode at her side and Direza trailing half a step behind, the very image of the loyal handmaiden, she couldn't help but smile a bit. She remembered the way Manushya had blushed - with embarrassment, for once, rather than arousal - when she casually mentioned that she'd heard that the sacrifices to Sargonnas had stopped, and wasn't it strange that Manushya had mentioned the sacrifices as a specific non-option for sneaking into the Temple? Well, it_had_ only been a couple of years since they stopped, so she could probably be forgiven for forgetting about it in the heat of a rather tense situation. But on the_other_ hand, she was specifically supposed to help by providing intel, preferably of the_reliable_ sort, so such a slip-up was really unacceptable. Enough said, she and Blake had delighted in coming up with a suitable punishment for the lithe Rakshasi... one that Blake would still be busy carrying out back in their chambers.

Sure enough, when she returned to her chambers - after having a quick chat with the Maharajah, who was, indeed, quite happy to hear that the Temple's last 'supply-line' had been severed - she found the depraved tableau she expected. It had been going on since early that morning, and would presumably end soon... mainly by virtue of the Draught of Flexibility wearing off. It lasted for about eight hours, and for close to that, Manushya had been learning about a whole new kind of pleasure-laced suffering. The tiger-girl was lying on the edge of the bed, tied into a heavily-exposed position with her legs folded and thighs spread, wrists tied to the ankles, and even her tail attached to a collar, holding it out of the way. Not ALL of Blake's saddlebags had been filled with gold and jewels, after all - they'd brought some basic tools - like rope - and a few... toys, too. After all, they'd expected to be staying for a bit, and had both Melora and Direza along, so...

Still, they'd had to improvise a few things. Manushya's gag, for instance, was a golden apple, lodged between her jaws and held in place by a tied-on silk handkerchief. Meanwhile, a string of impressively-large pearls were dangling between her legs, a key part of her punishment. Shrugging off her fancy dress and letting the skimpy armor she wore underneath swiftly follow, Anitra approached the bed with a grin. Looking up, she met Blake's eyes as he craned his neck to return the smile, never missing a stroke as he did so. He would've been entertaining himself with Manushya's fully-exposed and supernaturally-flexible holes on a regular basis throughout the day, leaving both of them gaping slightly despite the potion-imbued elasticity. Cum was dribbling from her pussy at the moment, while Blake rode her ass. Crouching between the girl's tied-up legs, she let one hand caress the freshly-fucked cunt before sliding it lower, across the string of pearls, to the bulge of the fur-coated mons pubis.

"Oh, that must be quite uncomfortable..." she murmured as she felt the rock-like hardness of Manushya's bladder through the skin and fur. They'd made sure she had plenty to drink the night before... and then, the next morning, inserted the string of pearls deeply into her urethra, lodging the huge specimen that had been the necklace's centerpiece inside her bladder to effectively seal it. In the seven hours that had passed since then, her bladder had only continued to fill, reaching its present, painfully-inflated state. Needless to say, this would have been downright dangerous under normal circumstances - a burst bladder was no joke. But the Draught of Flexibility extended to the bladder as well, making it supernaturally elastic and capable of expansion beyond normal limits... however, it was more of a fringe effect than a part of its purpose, so it DIDN'T really do anything to remove the discomfort of that pressure. Add to that Blake's constant attention, jostling and shaking the overfilled organ, and it was no wonder that Manushya's fangs were digging into the soft gold of the apple in her mouth, her eyes tear-filled and rolled back in her head.

She could hear Melora and Direza getting undressed behind her - always a somewhat more involved process than it was for her, though perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she didn't need to pick up her own discarded clothes these days - and grinned at them over her shoulder as she started toying with Manushya's cum-filled pussy again. Both of them seemed eager to join the fun and games on the bed, after a long day of having to look suitably respectable. Melora, in particular, had a yearning look on her face - Blake had been too busy getting started on Manushya's punishment that morning to do much with her, so she hadn't even been walking around with hot chilies lodged somewhere sensitive that day, or anything. Clearly, she was feeling a bit neglected.

Returning her attention to the Rakshasi's cum-oozing cunt, she started working her hand into it, aided by the slimy lubrication. Despite the alchemically-induced elasticity, it was tight going, mostly thanks to Blake's still-thrusting cock taking up most of the internal space of her abdomen, squeezing and deforming the vaginal spaces beneath. Still, she managed, pushing inside, feeling the thick dragon-cum oozing out around her wrist as she displaced it. Manushya moaned through her golden gag as Anitra's hand pushed deeper, feeling for its mark and soon finding it. The bulge of the overfilled bladder was even more noticeable on the inside, allowing her to easily wrap her cum-coated fingers around it and gently squeeze. The moan became a deep, despairing groan, and she could see the lithe, predatory muscles of the tiger-girl shift underneath the sweat-matted fur as she struggled futilely against her bonds.

Anitra just chuckled and continued to gently squeeze and massage the hard lump, smiling as she heard Blake huff with satisfaction above. Apparently, the muscular strain included her stretched-open ass, to her draconic lover's enjoyment. Glancing over her shoulder again, Anitra lifted an eyebrow at Direza and Melora, who were now standing nearby, quite naked and clearly aroused, but loathe to intrude on their respective Masters' fun without an invitation. Shifting her body so that she was kneeling on the floor, legs spread, rather than sitting on it, she gestured at Direza, who instantly recognized the (literal) opening and swooped down, rolling over on her back and sliding up between her Mistress' thighs, already drooling for a taste of her beloved's pussy and ass. Moaning slightly as the Drow's eager tongue began its work, Anitra then took a moment's consideration before waving Melora towards the head of the bed. "Get up there, and remove her gag."

Nodding, clearly happy to have something to do, the bulky horse-girl quickly bounced upon the spacious bed and ducked under Blake's still-thrusting body to reach the tigress dwarfed beneath his scaly bulk. A few moments later, the silk handkerchief was removed, and the heavy Golden Apple pulled out, unsurprisingly followed by a stream of choked-up apologies and pleas for mercy. "ImsorryImsorryImsorryIwasntthinkingIforgotIllneverdoitagainpleasepleaseforgivemejustLET ME PEE!" The string of noises was near-incomprehensible, but the last bit, at least, was pretty clear. Raising her voice a bit to make sure she could be heard over Blake's grunts and the slimy noise his cock was making as it continued to plunge into the tigress' well-used ass, Anitra gave her conditions. "Very well, my pet... just one thing first. Now that you've got the use of your mouth again, use it to make my 'bodyguard' here cum... three times. Once you've managed that, I'll remove the beads and let you release this... pressure." She emphasized the statement by giving the girl's bladder another, slightly more intense squeeze, prompting a high-pitched shriek and another series of muscle-contractions.

Melora, of course, quickly responded to this by shifting her body around, slipping between Blake's forelegs as she spread her own legs, shoving her groin into the tied-up Manushya's face. Blake chuckled as he looked down on them, craning his neck so he could see what was going on underneath him. "Don't worry, kitten..." he rumbled, licking his lips. "My dear Melora here is quite the sturdy soul. I think she will enjoy that rough tongue of yours." The horse-girl moaned, seemingly just as much from Blake's words as Manushya's tongue leaping into action, and Anitra grinned as she shifted her own groin to give Direza better access. "Oh yes, I almost forgot..." she then said lightly, as she shifted her hand to start pumping it in and out of Manushya's flexible pussy instead of just groping her bladder. "My skilled 'handmaid' is working_her_ tongue between my legs. If she gets me off three times before you finish your task, you fail. Then I'll pour a whole pitcher of juice down your throat and leaving the plug in instead."

Her words had the expected effect - a panicked groan, muffled by Melora's muff, followed by a moan from the horse-girl as the tigress desperately redoubled her efforts. Direza, meanwhile, had also picked up on the fact that it was now a race, and stepped up her game as well, her slender hands curling around Anitra's thighs, pulling her down so that she could thrust her tongue deeper inside her Mistress' ever-wet pussy. Anitra grinned, feeling the pleasure build in her loins as the fivesome picked up speed. Even Blake was putting some more oomph into his previously leisurely strokes as he felt the rising energy-levels around him. Needless to say, between his thick cock and Anitra's exploring fingers, Manushya was suffering under a handicap that Direza wasn't - namely, frequent orgasmic tremors running through her trussed-up body, pulling her attention away from the wet horse-pussy her face was resting against.

Mind, the 'contest' was still ultimately rigged in Manushya's favor. She'd only posed it to give the tigress a bit more... motivation, basically. While Direza had developed an exquisitely skilled tongue since entering Anitra's service, the DragonRider's first love remained cocks - BIG cocks. Getting her off with nothing but a tongue took a while, which she didn't really mind - her occasional sapphic sessions with Direza were, as a result, slow and languid affairs. Meanwhile, while Melora wouldn't be cumming as quickly as she would've if Blake had been directly involved in pleasuring her, she WAS lodged halfway under his bulk, able to stare adoringly up at his reptilian face... and, of course, she was a masochist, while Manushya wielded a sandpaper-tongue designed to lick the flesh right off the bones of her victims. Anitra had sampled it herself a little while back, and despite her own masochistic streak, found the experience almost unendurably intense. For Melora, it was just right - indeed, even as Anitra enjoyed the sensation of pressure slowly rising in her abdomen as Direza enthusiastically licked, sucked and tongued her, she could hear Melora's whinnying moans rising rapidly in pitch...

Oh, and of course... even if Manushya DID somehow manage to lose the contest, the resulting discomfort would be short-lived. There'd be less than an hour left in the potion's duration by now, so really, there wouldn't actually be time for any drink imbibed now to filter through to her ballooning bladder before they had to pull the plug on the whole affair or risk inflicting serious, lasting injury on the girl. Granted, Direza was capable of casting a Spell of Regeneration these days, thanks to her power-boosting focusing-charms, but while that COULD regenerate organ-damage, it was a slow, excruciating process. So better to play it safe.

About ten minutes later, though, Manushya handily won the contest, as Melora shuddered and moaned in her third orgasm in a row, her oversensitive genitals pulsating under the touch of the tigress' sandpaper tongue. Direza, meanwhile, had managed to lift Anitra to one slow-building, languid orgasm in the meantime... which was actually pretty fast, for her. With a sigh, Anitra pulled her hand out of Manushya's jizz-filled pussy and ordered Direza back out from between her thighs, reaching out her cum-coated arm as the drow scrambled to get up on her knees. She waited for the eager submissive to finish licking the slimy coating off, watching with amusement as the rest of the show continued. Manushya, who had been shaking with regular orgasms of her own, apparently hadn't been able to count Melora's orgasms, and the horse-girl herself had simply stayed where she were, absent orders to the contrary. The touch of that coarse tongue had to be torture by now, but, well... it was Melora. Trying to figure out whether she was moaning in pleasure or groaning in pain was an exercise in futility.

Finally, when her hand and most of her upper arm glistened with fresh spit, she used the wet limb to grab Direza by the hair and pull her up close. "Well, my pet, you failed rather spectacularly at that contest, didn't you?" She whispered ominously, prompting a shudder of mixed apprehension and arousal in the girl, who simply nodded, eyes wide and pleading. "Still, I suppose it was a rather steep challenge, so I won't punish you for that... assuming you can handle my_next_ task properly." She pulled the slate-skinned beauty in even closer, practically shoving her face in Manushya's still-slimy cunt. "Your task is simple... when I pull the beads out, you will drink the resulting deluge. All of it. For every drop that passes you by to stain the floor, you will go a day without any orgasms. Considering how overfilled this poor girl's bladder is at this point... well, if you_really_ screw up, it could easily be months, even years, before you find release again."

She couldn't see Direza's eyes, now, but she could hear the breath catch in her throat, her whole body stiffening as she no-doubt recalled her last experience with prolonged orgasm denial... thanks to that one particularly nasty spell of Blake's, it wasn't even a matter of denying pleasure. Certainly, she was in no hurry to experience_that_particular hell again. Anitra gave her a few moments to position herself as she wanted - kneeling between Manushya's legs, trying to cover as much of the prospective release-angle as possible. Then she grabbed the string of pearls and, after tugging gently on it to make sure it wasn't TOO firmly stuck, she pulled it out in one long, powerful movement.

Manushya's whole body spasmed as her already-tormented urethra suffered this rough treatment, the succession of hard pearls generating tremendous stimulation as they passed through the two sphincters. The centerpiece, in particular, was a whopper - nearly an inch in diameter - but the pearls that followed and preceded it weren't small either. Direza, meanwhile, was covering the hole they were emerging from as best she could, even before the last one left - and with good reason, seeing as the tremendous pressure built up in the Rakshasi's bladder was enough to force the first few spurts of its contents out alongside the smaller pearls. Little sprays of pee stained Direza's lips and face before the pearl necklace fully left the hole, and once it did, the flood was right behind it.

Direza's lips sealed the edges of the gaping urethra just in time, with one singular drop escaping to hang from her chin as her throat began laboring to drink down the flow of highly compressed piss. She started to lift one hand to stop it, but Anitra quickly grabbed both of her wrists and pulled them behind her back. "None of that, my pet..." she whispered. "You only get to use your mouth." A whimper could barely be heard, resonating from her constantly-working throat as the drop fell from her chin to audibly hit the marble floor beneath.

Manushya, meanwhile, had lifted her juice-stained face from Melora's aching cunt, a look of transcendent pleasure on her face as the pressure within her ease. With Blake still fucking her ass in long, steady strokes, she came repeatedly and powerfully, mostly thanks to the joy of the long-awaited pissing. The resulting tremors and contractions running through her body did not make life easier for Direza, who was struggling to keep up with the sheer speed of the flow in the first place. Between the pressure of the long-blocked bladder and the dramatic widening caused by the pearls, the hot piss was flooding her mouth faster than she'd ever experienced before - and she'd served as a toilet for_dragons_ on several occasions.

Normally, she could manage to sneak in the occasional quick breath inbetween swallows, as her mouth filled up. Not so here. As the deluge continued, she became increasingly lightheaded, her chest aching as her lungs begged for air. As her instinctive need to breathe warred with her near-fanatical desire to please her mistress (and avoid the promised punishment), the result was, perhaps, predictable - a half-breath through the nose drawing much-needed air into her lungs, but pulling enough droplets of acrid piss along to generate an unavoidable reaction. The resulting cough, coupled with her continued refusal to remove her mouth from Manushya's constantly-spouting urethra, flooded her nasal cavity with hot piss. This, meanwhile, resulted in two small streams of pee emerging from her nostrils, though fortunately, most of the escaping droplets got caught in the fur around Manushya's still-gaping pussy. Oh, and of course, the smell of hot piss literally filled Direza's head to a downright dazing degree.

But she continued to hold fast, swallowing rapidly even as her vision began to grow dim. By then, though, the intensity of the flood had begun to subside as Manushya's bladder shrank back to its customary size - leaving time enough for the contents of Direza's nasal cavity to drain back down her throat, and making it possible to use her usual technique: Letting her mouth fill, the taste of piss soaking into her tongue, while drawing rapid, piss-and-cum-scented breaths of air through her nose between swallows. When at last the flow stopped completely, Direza carefully licked around the now-shrinking hole of the urethra to make sure she hadn't missed any stray droplets, and then leaned back to cast a wincing eye down at the floor.

A single drop had escaped before she could properly seal the exit with her lips. A couple more had avoided getting stuck in Manushya's fur after escaping through her nose, and joined it. But worse, she hadn't even realized that the intensity of that same cough had also upped the pressure in her mouth beyond what her lips could handle - bits of the hot fluid had escaped around the corners of her mouth, made their way down her cheeks, and dripped onto the floor. All said, either discreet spots of yellow liquid could be seen on the marble floor. Anitra, leaning over the kneeling drow-elf's shoulder, reached the same count. "Eight days, huh? Well, could've been a lot worse. Still, I'm sure you'll be_begging_ for release at the end of them..."

She glanced up at Blake, who had reached his latest orgasm from the repeated contractions of Manushya's ass as she peed. His cock had a lot of nasty slime clinging to it as he pulled out - hardly surprising, considering how long it had been marinating up the Rakshasi's artificially-flexible asshole. Nonetheless, as he cut the girl's ropes with an offhanded swipe of his claws, she didn't hesitate to crawl towards his groin and join Melora in licking him clean. Her eyes were still vague from the overwhelming pleasure of the long-awaited release, leaving her in something of a sex-trance - a state both he and Anitra had repeatedly noticed that she tended to wind up in if sufficiently overloaded with pleasure.

Still, even as he enjoyed the feeling of the two obedient tongues caressing his gradually-softening cock - one silk-smooth, the other rough and coarse - he had enough attention left over to catch the mental request Anitra threw his way, and cast the requisite spell. Direza's face hung as she watched him trace a dark rune in the air with one talon - she hadn't seen him do it last time he cast that particular spell, but she could guess what it was. Moments later, she got her confirmation as Anitra embraced her from behind and ran one practiced hand down between her legs. Those powerful, dexterous, well-trained fingers could lift her to the highest plateaus of pleasure in minutes, without fail... except that this time, they lifted her to the very cusp of release and no further, leaving her mewling in despair as the pleasure built without release.

About half an hour later, after everyone had recovered and gotten cleaned up, the five of them lounged about the luxurious chambers - mostly still naked - as Anitra reported on the day's accomplishment. Despite the good news, Blake grumbled in annoyance, scratching his chin. "So we're just settling in for a siege, then? Bah. It'll take ages at this rate. And there's only a few more doses of the Potion of Flexibility left. Once that runs out, things will get boring again fast..." Anitra chuckled, amused by the fact that their supply of that potion had, effectively, become a de-facto time-limit for their mission... but then paused as she noticed Melora flinching slightly where she sat. The submissive horse-girl had never minded playing second fiddle to Anitra, but it seemed like being pushed down to third as Blake cavorted with his_new_ toy was really getting to her. Well, one more reason not to linger - once they got home, Manushya would be out of the picture, and Blake would turn his sadistic attention back on Melora...

Focusing her attention on the matter at hand once more, Anitra shrugged. "I know, love, and I'm hardly going to disagree... but so far, we've been unable to come up with any OTHER way to get it. The High Priest is stonewalling, and his underlings are too loyal - or scared of him - to sell the secret to us under the table. And, heck, even if it WASN'T ridiculously risky, a smash-and-grab wouldn't work - you can't pick up a secret and run off with it. We could try to kidnap the High Priest, I suppose, but considering how stubborn he's proven so far, I wouldn't bet on being able to torture the formula out of him." Blake huffed in reply, reluctantly grumbling his agreement with the points she'd raised. Sitting nearby - close enough to be_close_to him, but not quite touching - Manushya lowered her head. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to be more help..." she said quietly, looking genuinely regretful. Anitra was glad to see that she'd bounced back from the rough treatment she'd received earlier as quickly as ever - her and Blake had been steadily stepping up the intensity of the scenes they put her through, but this one had been a bit of a leap, both from being outright painful, long in duration, and an outright-stated 'punishment'. But she'd rolled with it just fine - she really had the makings of an excellent submissive.

"But... if you had access to your full power, you_could_ do something, right?" It was Melora who suddenly interjected, leaning forwards on the cashmere-upholstered sofa she was sitting on. Manushya blinked in surprise, then shrugged. "Well... yeah, I suppose. I could just turn you all invisible so you could walk right into the temple, or something. Probably. It's not like I've ever_tried_ wielding that kind of power, obviously." Melora, though, just nodded choppily, seemingly ignoring the last bit. "Right... and all you really need in order to access that power is the flesh of a sapient being. That's what you said, wasn't it? Not human, specifically." Manushya nodded, pulling back a bit from Melora's sudden intensity. "Um... yes? That's what I've been told, anyway. Sapience is the important bit, apparently. Elves and even orcs were on the menu too, back in the old days."

Anitra still wasn't sure where Melora was going with this, but apparently, Direza had caught on - she suddenly gasped in shock. "Wait a minute, Melora... you're not thinking of my Regeneration-spell, are you?" Anitra's eyes widened as the copper finally dropped, and she found her mind going off in two entirely separate directions simultaneously. Her human side was recoiling in horror at what Melora seemed to be suggesting - cutting somebody's flesh off, feeding it to Manushya to activate her powers, and then using Direza's magic to regrow the missing pieces! Yet, at the same time, her draconic side was seizing onto the idea with cold, analytic fervor. It probably WOULD work - there was no reason to believe it wouldn't. And with Manushya in full-powered mode, they should be able to wrap things up in short order. They didn't even need to worry about the Rakshasi suddenly becoming 'unreliable' when she got powered up - after all, her_family_ was living in the city, so being 'outed' would still be utterly disastrous, even if_she_ could conceivably make her escape at that point.

Blake, unencumbered by humanity, leaned forwards with interest at that point, having reached the same conclusion. "Is that, indeed, what you're suggesting, my dear?" He asked pointedly, his eyes fixed on Melora, who squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. "...yes, Master. It would solve the impasse, and spare us from having to stay here for months waiting out the stubborn priests, right? And... it's important. The key to understanding what Black Dragons are. Where they come from. I know that I would want to know those things if I could." She fidgeted for a moment, then raised her head with determination in her eyes. "In fact... I would volunteer. Please. Use my flesh. All I ask is... that you do the cutting yourself, Master. If it is by your hand, your mighty talons... I will suffer it gladly."

Blake opened his mouth, then seemed to hesitate, his eyes indecipherable. Then he looked gravely at his loyal servant and spoke. "Are you certain? Truly determined? We could probably reach our goal regardless with patience. Boring, perhaps, but..." he trailed off, and she nodded. "I am certain. I am determined. And I am not so sure the patient method would work, in the end. Maybe, yes, but if the High Priest remained truly stubborn, he could hold out for months yet. And we do not know how long the 'faithful' amongst the merchant classes will remain subverted by Mistress Anitra's machinations. If he remains steadfast, some of them may be moved by his apparent 'piety', and begin supporting him again."

Anitra leaned back, grimacing. Melora was right... and_she_ hadn't thought of that. All this political intrigue really wasn't her preferred arena. The Maharajah probably HAD thought of it, but decided not to mention it for several obvious reasons, starting with the fact that there probably wasn't any better plans available from his perspective. Blake, too, nodded in acknowledgment of the points the horse-girl had raised. "You speak truth, my dear. But if we're going to do this... we need to get it right the first time." His head swiveled, fixing his gaze on Manushya, who seemed to be trying her best to be absorbed by the opulent upholstery of the lounge-chair she was sitting in. "Rakshasi. If you were to eat your fill... how long would your powers last?"

Manushya swallowed and grimaced before she answered. "Based on the stories I've heard... maybe a couple of days, tops. Probably less, unless I truly gorged myself. But it's not like I've ever tried it myself... or even_met_ anyone who has." Blake, however, just nodded. "So 24 hours seems like a safe bet. Something to plan around. We need to maximize our chances, though. Tell us everything you know about the powers of your ancestors, particularly any limitations." She nodded hesitantly and reached for a pitcher of chilled wine, her throat having apparently dried out. Anitra, meanwhile, leaned back in her seat again, and pondered. Surely, even if they were going to do this the hard way, there had to be some way she could use the Maharajah' eagerness to please to her advantage...

The next morning, Anitra attended a private breakfast with the Maharajah, as she did more often than not. After the delectables had been polished off - including a particularly fiery egg-based dish she couldn't pronounce - she leaned towards her host with an eager grin. "Mãnava, dear... something occurred to me last night that I think you might be interested in." The Maharajah lifted a carefully-manicured eyebrow and leaned conspiratorially towards her, smiling already. He loved it when she called him by name rather than by title - something she had not been entirely surprised to discover, after her recent visit to Mirage City. It seemed like a lot of rulers, surrounded by pomp and circumstance and weighted down by titles and honor, wound up rather missing having someone around who called them by name, addressing them as a_friend_ rather than a leader.

"Well, meaning no aspersions on you, Mãnava - you have been a superb host, and no mistake - I must confess to getting a bit bored by now. The siege drags on, and there's little left for me to DO anymore, is there? But then it occurred to me that I might be able to kill two or even three birds with one stone." Despite her reassurances, the Maharajah's face darkened as she admitted to boredom, but he perked up with intense interest as she went on. "Sargonnas, he's a war-god, right? And part of the reason the High Priest is so opposed to foreign trade is that he feels all us weak, diplomatic, mercantile types will dilute the purity of Ganarãjya's warrior spirit. Or something like that." The Maharajah nodded, clearly curious at what she was getting at. "Something like that, yes, as far as I understand it."

Anitra grinned, if possible, even wider. "Well, it just occurred to me that my dear bodyguard, Melora, usually spends a lot of time practicing to stay fit. Training-exercises and sparring-matches and such. Since coming here, though, she hasn't had the chance - too busy guarding my body, and such. So... I was thinking, what if we set up a martial tournament? I recall hearing that you have a very nice arena attached to the Akharas Barracks for just that purpose. Give Melora a chance at a proper workout... and your Akharas a chance to test their skills against one of the finest warriors the Horse-Tribes have produced." The Maharajah's eyes widened as she talked, and then he started nodding with understanding. "Ah yes... I see. Demonstrating the martial skills of your retainer might knock the legs out from under the High Priest's argument. Assuming your bodyguard conducts herself well, anyway. Rigging the matches would be... inadvisable, considering the level of scrutiny to be expected. Do you truly think she'd be able to match the Akharas? I assure you, they're as good as their reputation..."

Shrugging, Anitra leaned back in her chair, picking up a goblet of sparkling cider. "As long as it's a purely_martial_ contest, I believe she will be more than a match for any one of them in a duel, yes." Her host nodded along, instantly picking up the keyword. "Ah yes, of course... it would hardly be a proper demonstration of personal_skill_ if the Akharas relied on the almighty power of Sargonnas, would it? Hmm. Yes, that could certainly be arranged. In fact... it'd work on several levels. The Temple has a standing obligation to dispatch healers to any tournaments held in the Akharas Arena. And the priests love a spectacle. Several of them will HAVE to go, and many others will likely follow. It'll be a chance to address them outside their home turf, and perhaps sound out just how solid the High Priest's support-base really is."

Anitra nodded, happy to let the Maharajah take her idea and run with it. The important thing was to set up the tournament - a spectacle to draw every eye in the palace AND temple to one specific spot... and then sneak behind those eyes to grab the prize. The actual outcome of the tournament was ultimately irrelevant - all that mattered was that it went on for long enough to provide her and Direza a suitable window of opportunity. The plan was to have Manushya create illusory copies of the two of them, who would sit by her and the very-real Blake on the highest tiers of the arena - Blake's presence conveniently preventing them from joining the Maharajah in his personal box, and ensuring that nobody else would approach or try to talk to the illusions. Meanwhile, they would be sneaking into the temple under the cover of a cloak of invisibility, hopefully tracking down either the formula for the herbal mix, or a sample of it for analysis back home. If necessary, they could grab an isolated priest to interrogate at swordpoint - while most arcane forms of invisibility would dissolve when interacting with (or attacking) someone, a fully-powered Rakshasa could (supposedly) apply and maintain a sturdier sort.

While keeping that particular plan in the back of her head, she hashed out the details with the Maharajah. It would take a few days to set up - and to let word of the unusual tournament-entrant percolate through the upper reaches of Akshardham's rich and powerful. Merchants and nobles would be fighting quiet, polite wars for the front-row tickets, since by law and tradition, only the High Priest of Sargonnas and the Maharajah himself could own reserved boxes at the arena... and in this particular case, several seats would be already reserved for a special visitor and her rather voluminous steed. Once everything had been settled, however, there was little left to do but report back to Blake and the rest of the crew... and then wait.

When the sun set on the following day, however, the waiting was just about over, and tensions were rising. The tournament would begin before noon on the next day, and if Melora was to fight in it - and fight_well_ - she needed to be reasonably recovered by then, and even with Direza's magic, that would take time. That meant that, despite not knowing exactly how long Manushya's power-boost would last, they had to feed her tonight. Everyone had been relaxing through the day, preparing physically and mentally for the trials of tomorrow... and, for some, tonight. Manushya looked outright nervous, while Melora looked equal parts tense and_in_tense. Blake looked unconcerned, but Anitra knew better. She could feel his emotions through their mental bond - confusion and uncertainty, underlying something unexpected: Concern. She was quite sure of that - she'd felt his concern many times before. She just hadn't expected to ever feel it directed at anybody else...

Now, however, it was time. Melora was kneeling on the floor, leaning over a low table where a silver serving-tray had been laid out. Direza was standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder while the other was tightly closed around her sacred foci, ready to wield her magic without a moment's delay. Manushya was sitting on the other side of the table, looking increasingly panicky, her fur more sweaty than it usually got even in the heat of their most intense sexual games. She looked pleadingly up at Blake, who hovered over the table like a bad omen. "Please... I don't know if I can do this. Eating the raw flesh of a...person. Somebody I know, even. Somebody I've been... intimate with. I feel nauseous just thinking about it." Blake, however, shook his head. "You underestimate yourself, kitten. You are a predator. I can smell it on you, underneath the fear. Your instincts will see you through. Trust in them."

She nodded, swallowing with some difficulty as she lowered her head and closed her eyes tightly. She clearly didn't want to watch what was about to happen. Anitra didn't either... but she felt, in a strange way, obligated to do so. One side of her was fascinated by what she was about to behold, while the other side simply didn't want to turn a blind eye to the dedicated mare's sacrifice. Blake, meanwhile, nodded down at Melora. "You are ready?" She nodded, straightening where she sat, and thrust out her chest. It had been easy to decide where to cut - she had a pair of heavy, fleshy lumps conveniently free of important organs or major blood-vessels attached to her chest, after all. The soft, heavy orbs of her tits swayed slightly with her labored breath as she pushed them forth, offering them up to Blake's razor-sharp talons.

Blake looked at his submissive servant for a long moment, then nodded again. Only Anitra noticed how deep the breath he took was. Then he shifted his body so that he sat behind Melora, looming over her, bending over her, reaching both forelegs down as he folded all but two of his talons into each palm, leaving a natural pair of oversized scissors. Carefully, he positioned them around each of the brown-coated breasts, craning his neck to make sure the full width of each was contained within this improvised guillotine. It wouldn't do to leave either one of them dangling by a thread of skin and tissue. Direza, pushed aside by his bulk, was now leaning over one of his hind-legs to maintain contact with Melora, a look of concentration on her face as she prepared to summon up her powers of healing.

There were no further warnings. Once he was satisfied with his positioning, Blake simply snapped his talons together with a sickening sound. Designed to cut through chainmail and bone alike, they carved through the soft tissue with ease, and a piercing scream rose up - a reminder that even the most dedicated masochist had their limits. With a soft sound, the two severed lumps of flesh fell on the serving-tray, followed by a spurt of bright crimson blood... but only one. Direza had been ready, after all, and a quick, simple healing-spell stopped the bleeding and caused the two large, circular, gaping wounds on Melora's chest to instantly scab over, buying time for the former High Priestess of Lolth to begin chanting a far more potent spell.

Meanwhile, Blake's blood-stained claws pushed the serving-tray across the table, his voice harboring an ever-so-slight tremor as he rumbled "Here. Eat." Reluctantly, Manushya opened her eyes, a look of revulsion on her face, her hands shaking as she lifted them... but then, something strange happened. Her nostrils flared, taking in the scent of the freshly-severed meat. The flesh of a sapient creature. A shudder went through her whole body, making her tail thrash, but it didn't look like another shudder of disgust. Her face shifted, suddenly looking less pretty and more... predatory. Her fangs were bared. There was no more hesitation as she dug her claws into one of the severed breasts and lifted it to her mouth, her sharp fangs rendering the raw meat, flesh and blood pouring down her throat.

Like a ravening beast, she devoured first one, then the other. Then she licked the plate, making sure she had collected every stray sliver of flesh, every drop of blood. Her eyes seemed to burn green, her nostrils still flaring as her gaze turned towards the source of the smell... Melora. Direza, however, had not been wasting any time - while Manushya had devoured the grisly feast set before her, she had finished the powerful Spell of Regeneration. The wounds were already gone - smooth, pink skin had covered the gaps on Melora's chest, and teeny nipples had appeared in the center of the circles. It would take some time yet for her customary coat to grow out and cover the area once more, and for her tits to grow back to their customary size. Weeks, probably, on the later count. In the meantime, she was obviously exhausted, leaning heavily back against Blake's chest as he continued to loom over her, her breathing rapid and her coat matted with sweat.

Probably a good thing that Direza had been so efficient, thought Anitra as another shudder went through Manushya. She could tell that the gentle Rakshasi was struggling to control the now-surfaced hunger that had been sleeping deep in her blood for so long. If Melora had still been sporting a pair of bleeding wounds at that point... things might've gotten messy. But as it were, Manushya apparently managed, and rose from the table to look up at Blake. "Well, it worked..." she remarked, her voice rougher than it had been before. "I can feel the power coursing through me. It'll last through tomorrow, easily. It was dense meat. Very fatty. Full of energy." Blake just nodded, but Anitra could feel her muscles coil. The way Manushya was standing, now... the way she moved when she walked away from the table to grab a pitcher of wine with which to wash down her meal... it was intimidating. Predatory. Smooth and alert. Her whole demeanor had become intensely self-possessed, filled with the Apex Predator's inherent confidence and surety. There was barely a trace of the nervous, easily-jostled tiger-girl she'd originally compelled into her service. She found herself developing a newfound respect for the Maharajah's ancestors, who had fought against such creatures and somehow won.

Shaking off the shock at Manushya's changed personality, she helped Direza move the still-weak Melora to the bed, where the dedicated Drow Elf proceeded to wipe down the horse-girl's sweaty coat before pulling the covers over her. Despite the warmth of the tropical night, there would be no chances taken with Melora's health tonight. Meanwhile, Manushya stalked around the room like... well, like a caged tiger, her eyes darting here and there. Then she shook herself, her fur puffing out, and walked towards the balcony. "Going somewhere?" Blake inquired, standing near the balcony himself - not QUITE blocking it, but making it clear that he swiftly could. Manushya, however, just glanced up at him and shrugged. "Yes. Out and about. I want to test my powers. See the world from above, like my ancestors did. Don't worry. I won't do anything stupid, and I'll be back before sunrise to carry out the plan."

Then, between one step and the next, she vanished. No shadow lingered, no shimmering in the air, no tell-tale distortions, not even the slightest sound of padded paws on marble. Blake's sharp eyes, however, continued to follow an empty spot in the air, all the way out unto the balcony. Then something - perhaps a passing breeze - made the curtains shudder, and the invisible spot that only a dragon's keen, magic-sensitive eyes could follow, rose into the night sky and vanished behind the palace's domed roof. Blake huffed, shaking his head. "I would feel better if she had gotten some sleep... but I suppose she has been resting for most of the day. And I guess it would be too much to ask that she pass up this opportunity to relish such incredible, albeit highly temporary power."

Anitra nodded as she walked over to stand beside him, leaning against his flank as she looked out at the twinkling stars. "Indeed. I do understand her, I think. Or, at least, I can relate. It must be much like my Quickening, only... far more intense, from the look of things. Such an extreme jump in power - of course it would be intoxicating in the extreme." She sighed, and quickly shook off the thought of what a Quickening gained from a fully-powered Rakshasa would be like. It probably would be potent... but it also wouldn't be worth it, considering what would be needed for that Rakshasa to reach that level of power. Then she turned, and patted Blake on the shoulder as she walked towards the spacious bed - more than big enough for all of the room's three human-sized occupants to make use of without crowding one another. "But, WE'D better make sure to get some rest tonight. We all need to be on point tomorrow... you included, my love."

Blake nodded and, with a sigh, walked out to the center of the room to curl up on a thick rug. If all went well tomorrow, he'd be doing nothing more intensive than watching a reasonably exciting martial tournament. But if things DIDN'T go well... indeed, if things went thoroughly sideways... he was their last-ditch escape-plan. He had to be ready to jump out of the stands, grab Melora, smash his way into the Temple, extract Anitra and Direza, and then fly them all away before anyone had time to react. He'd already eyeballed the Temple itself and determined that while the holy magic suffusing the structure did a great job of preserving the normally-fragile clay bricks it was built from against time and the elements, it would offer no protection whatsoever against a rampaging dragon.

With a stifled yawn, Anitra followed her lover's example and climbed into the king-sized bed. Direza had already laid herself down close to Melora - who had fallen asleep, or perhaps passed out, before the Drow priestess had even finished her earlier wipe-down - to ensure that she'd be close at hand if any further healing-magics were needed during the night. Between doing mundane servants'-work together, and often being pulled into various perverted sexual games together, the unlikely pair had become very close indeed over the past months - it was kind of adorable, Anitra reflected as she settled down on the pillow and yawned again. Closing her eyes, she hoped that her draconic half would prevent the grisly sight she'd observed earlier from tainting her dreams into nightmares...

Anitra woke early. The sun had not yet risen on the jungles of Ganarãya, though from the sound of it, many of its residents were already hard at work. Her sleep had been dreamless - as far as she remembered - and she felt sufficiently well-rested that getting back to sleep was unlikely. A glance to the side revealed that Direza and Melora were still sleeping heavily - understandably so, what with Melora's injury and Direza's heavy energy-expenditure. Reaching out with her mind, however, she could tell that Blake was awake as well, and with exquisite care, she snuck soundlessly out of bed to join him on the floor, slipping into the midst of his coiled body with practiced ease.

Something on your mind, my love? she queried over their mental connection, not wanting to wake up the two on the bed. Blake, however, rumbled a laugh and spoke up, albeit quietly. "No need to worry about noise. Melora is sleeping like a log for obvious reasons, and I cast a sleep-spell on Direza to ensure that she got her much-needed rest - she kept stirring awake to check on Melora. Neither one of them are going to wake up unless we start shouting, and probably not even then." Anitra grinned, leaning back against his slowly-heaving flanks. "Good to know. Now, I wonder if there's some reason that you'd rather talk to me the traditional way, rather than using a telepathic channel that leaves every word heavily laced with underlying emotions... oh, and you are evading my question."

Blake harrumphed and then, after a long moment's silence, sighed. "Fine. Not much point in trying to conceal my feelings from you, my love. I care about her. Melora. I think I might have done so for a while, even, without realizing it. It just struck me when she... volunteered like that. What she did was far beyond what anyone would expect from a servant. Heck, it's more than I would've asked of a_slave_. But she did it anyway, on her own initiative, to help me. To help_us_. And while all this emotional stuff isn't exactly my forte, I can figure out why." Anitra nodded solemnly. "Yes. It's because she loves you. Even though she knows that you can never truly return those feelings. Even though she knows that she'll always come second to me." Blake sighed again. "So it seems. I knew that before, of course. I just don't think it quite... penetrated. But even if I can't entirely return those feelings, I'm definitely feeling SOMETHING for her..."

"So you 'care about' her. I guess that_is_ the best word you can put on it." Anitra interjected with a shrug. "But what's wrong with that?" Blake snorted, shaking his head. "Nothing, I'm sure. And don't think it's escaped my notice how pleased you are by my realization. You aren't worried about my affections being divided, you're just glad I'm feeling SOMETHING for somebody other than you. I also haven't failed to notice how often you've changed tracks in the middle of an explanation because you realized that I wasn't understanding your emotion-based arguments. I still don't - not really. But... yeah, I care about Melora. Even though what she just did was tactically sound - a brilliant way to break this deadlock and get us moving again - I didn't want her to do it. I wanted to forbid it. Once I realized that, I had to examine my reasoning. Figure out why I didn't want to take that perfectly rational course of action." He sighed again, settling his head back down on his forelegs. "And yet, I still went ahead with it. So maybe you shouldn't be so celebratory."

Anitra considered that for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Tell me. If Manushya had been the one to suggest it, and had pointed out that Melora's... assets were the perfect 'detachable bits' for the purpose, would you have told Melora to go along with it?" The silence that followed seemed to last a long time, as Blake chewed over that scenario. Finally, he answered. "No. I know what you're getting at, too. She would've done it on my command regardless. She's... obedient like that. So no, I wouldn't have ordered her to endure that kind of ordeal. I mean, sure, I literally torture her for fun on the regular, but... that's different. I know where her limits are. The level of pain she'll enjoy. The level of pain that'll push her just a little bit past that point. Heh." Then he snorted. "Ah. And now I get what you said when we left Mirage City recently. About how you didn't want to_order_Direza and Melora to 'perform' for the perverted Sultan. Well... sort of. Based on what he did with_you_, I doubt he'd put them through any kind of real torture. And I doubt he could compose any kind of messed-up sexual games that we haven't already done back home... so it doesn't really seem like it'd be that big of a deal. But... well, I can see where you're_coming_ from, at least."

Shrugging, Anitra shifted herself into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes. Blake's presence relaxed her. Nestling against his body like this was more comfortable than any down-filled, silken bed, as far as she was concerned. Maybe she could manage to catch another hour or two of sleep after all. "Well, I suppose that'll have to do, for now. But I'm still happy. Melora's a sweetheart. I care about her too, you know. Just like I care about Direza. But_you're_the one she loves. Knowing that you care about her will make her happier than anything. When we're done here and get home... you should take the time to_show_ her that you care. I think she's deserved it... don't you?" Blake made a noncommittal sound, watching with one eye as his beloved Anitra drifted into a light sleep. He wasn't about to get any more sleep himself - dragons just don't need that much sleep - but for once he didn't mind lying there quietly, watching the others sleep and just... thinking. Pondering the meaning of 'caring'. It seemed a much deeper subject than he had previously assumed...

It was shortly after sunrise when Anitra was stirred from her light slumber by the sound of Blake grumbling "There you are... about time." Blinking her eyes to focus, she turned and saw Blake staring fixedly on an empty spot on the still-open balcony. A second later, Manushya - still poised and predatory in her movements - appeared out of thin air in mid-step as she entered the room. "What? There's still hours 'till the tournament... I'm plenty early." She replied with a dismissive shrug as she sauntered past the bed, casting a strange glance at the two women sleeping on it. Blake sighed and shook his head. "Don't be an idiot. You still need to maintain your cover, remember? Or do you really want the palace servants wondering why you haven't shown up to pick up breakfast for us all as usual?"

Manushya grimaced in annoyance, then sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I s'pose you're right. This won't last, after all. I know that. Gotta make sure my cover's still intact when you guys leave." Stalking towards the door, her appearance shifted smoothly into the familiar, nondescript servant she'd appeared to be when they'd first met, though something about her demeanor still seemed to convey an unusual... energy. Blake didn't missed this either, and shot her a piercing look. "Don't forget to ACT like a humble serving-girl along with LOOKING like one, Manushya." The Rakshasi, though, just grinned - making her otherwise plain face take on a mischievous and remarkably attractive cast. "Eh, don't sweat it. Those idiots are all so tied up in their own personal drama and ambitions, there's no way they'll pay any attention to dull ol' Manushya. And if they do, they'll just write it off as me being excited to get a front-row seat at the Arena later today." Blake sighed and shook his head. "Well, I suppose if you spread some suspicions, they won't come home to roost 'till we're done here anyway, so what do I care? Just make sure you get something filling and protein-rich for Melora. She's going to be famished when she wakes up." The normally-humble 'servant' just waved in reply, not bothering to turn around as she sauntered out the door.

Working a crick out of her neck, Anitra stretched and rose from her nest amidst Blake's limbs and tail. "Geez... please tell me I'm not that bad when I'm Quickened..." she mumbled. Blake barked a laugh, shaking his head. "No, not THAT bad. A bit cockier and more self-assured than normal, but not that much of a personality-shift. Except maybe the first time - you were pretty far gone, back then. And from that perspective... well, it makes sense. It took you a while to get used to the rush. And For Manushya, this IS her first time, isn't it? Makes you wonder how similar the Rakshasa's powers are to the Quickening of a DragonRider..." his voice trailed off as he scratched his chin thoughtfully with one claw. Anitra nodded, wondering why she hadn't considered that angle before. The similarities WERE there. Consuming and metabolizing something that carried high densities of life-force... she was just lucky that the substance SHE required was a renewable resource!

A while later, Manushya returned without incident, laden with trays carrying a complete breakfast and then some. Not a moment too soon, either - Melora had stirred from her slumber at last, and she was every bit as hungry as Blake had predicted. The horse-tribes usually had a marked preference for fruit and vegetables, but they WERE omnivores - and this morning, at least, Melora seemed disinclined to hold back on the meat-front. She ate half a dozen eggs, several grilled chicken-breasts with lumps of buttered bread on the side, and even a handful of spicy sausages, despite her usual distaste for the local cuisine's spicy tendencies. The rest of the group ate well too, if a bit less... voluminously, each of them refusing to let the rising nervousness harm their appetites. Only Manushya did not - simply stating that she wasn't hungry, which prompted a slight shudder from Melora.

A couple of hours later, the appointed time had arrived. Fireworks exploded above the Arena as the contestants trooped out onto the sands to the cheer of what seemed to be the entire city, spread across the multi-tiered seating. In his reserved box, under a palanquin of purple silk, the Maharajah rose to personally read aloud the rules of the tournament, and declare it open. It would be a single-elimination affair, featuring 7 chosen representatives of the Akharas... and one rather nervous-looking mare. Clad in dragonforged steel (including a sculpted breastplate that effectively hid her current... shortcomings) and wielding her long, heavy glaive, she stood out heavily from the nigh-identical Akharas - each of them dressed in their traditional uniform, with conical helmets, shields, and curved swords. Needless to say, every eye was on her - the exotic oddity, the unknown quantity. And it was quite clear that it was this level of attention, more than the prospect of the bloody competition to come, that made her shift her shoulders and glance around twitchily.

Her gaze often fell on the area near the top of the arena, where a zone of emptiness in the otherwise-packed seating surrounded a huge, black-scaled body as it lounged across several tiers of carved stone seats. Her beloved Blake, watching over her. He was the only thing in that area that was exactly what he appeared. The easy-to-ignore servant-girl sitting a bit to his side was really there too, of course, but Melora knew all too well what hid underneath her plain appearance. And the beautiful woman in the elegant, white dress sitting in the midst of the mighty dragon's coils, as well as the cloaked handmaiden by her side, were both nothing more than illusions - though, even knowing that, Melora could see no flaws in it. They breathed, moved, looked around, chatted with one another... it was enough to make her wonder if Anitra and Direza really WERE there, even though she knew that according to the plan, they would have already slipped away under the cover of an invisibility-spell. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by the coarse sound of a brass trumpet, announcing the beginning of the first match, and she steeled herself as she watched 6 of the Akharas march out - leaving behind only one. Her first opponent...

Halfway across the grand plaza that separated the Palace, the Temple and the Akharas Barracks (and its attached Arena), Anitra and Direza could hear the cheer going up from the audience. "Sounds like Melora's first match has started..." she mumbled under her breath. Direza nodded, glancing around to make sure nobody had overheard them - but the plaza was all but empty, as everyone who could possibly make it there were now amongst the cheering crowds at the Arena. "Sounds like it..." she whispered. "I just hope she's up for it. The Akharas are no joke, and... well, I did my best, but I don't know that she's_completely_ recovered from last night."

Anitra shrugged, sneaking closer to the Temple's main gates, where a pair of bored-looking Akhara sentinels were throwing annoyed glances in the direction of the Arena. "I hope so too, but ultimately, it doesn't matter if she wins. As long as she can keep everybody's attention focused on her for a while, we should be good." Then she clamped her lips shut, and nodded at Direza to do the same. They were too close to the sentinels, now, to risk talking. Indeed, they'd have to move in complete silence from here on in. Their sandal-clad feet moved soundlessly across the flagstones, between the two unfocused-looking sentinels, and into the Temple Grounds with no-one the wiser. The Temple's huge doors - thick, heavy and made from age-darkened junglewood - presented a more serious barrier, but the Rakshasa-made invisibility-spell was as good as promised. Invisible hands pulled the door open a crack, finding it to move remarkably smoothly and silently on no-doubt lovingly maintained hinges... and it didn't take a lot of opening for two slim women to slip through and inside.

Melora drank deeply of the pitcher of chilled fruit-juice that had been set out for her in the shaded dugout at the arena's edge, as she watched the rather formulaic fight being conducted in the sands. The idea of the dugout was for uninvolved contestants to have an out-of-the-way place from which they could observe other matches, and thus learn of potential opponents - a nice thought, really. She'd visited a few arenas during her adventures, before she found Lord Blake - participating in commercial matches was a quick way to make some traveling-funds, and the extreme rarity of her people outside their native lands meant that she could usually surprise the first couple of adversaries. None of them had had this nifty design-feature, though - largely being remnants of days when the battles had featured slaves, condemned prisoners, and the like - before civilization had taken hold and the combatants been replaced with professional gladiators and adventurers desperate for coin. Hence, their design had featured more portcullis, pits, and barred windows.

In this case, though, the advantageous position wasn't helping her much. All of her prospective opponents were members of the elite Akharas - Paladins of Sagonnas, essentially - so they all fought using the same studied technique and the same gear, and they had clearly all trained together and sparred numerous times. The battles between them were like a studied, martial dance, both fighters knowing exactly what to do and what to expect, simply waiting for their opponent to miss a step and provide an opening. They would - by necessity - fight in a very different style when they went up against_her_. Well, the first one hadn't... he'd been cocky. Underestimated her. Overly eager to show this 'foreign barbarian' the power of the mighty Akharas. Probably hadn't realized how much he normally relied on the holy might of Sargonnas - which he was forbidden from invoking during this tournament. Either way, he'd provided her exactly the kind of opening she'd gotten used to seeing from foes unfamiliar with her strength and reach, and she'd reacted almost instinctively. The battle had ended in a single strike, and he'd been carried from the arena while servants hurried to pick up his feet so that the healers might reattach them. The next one, whoever it turned out to be, (and to her, they were really all rather interchangeable) was unlikely to make the same mistake, however...

The corridors of the Great Temple of Sargonnas were dark and quiet. It had, she knew, been deliberately built without windows - Sargonnas was, after all, a god of fire, too, and they didn't want the sun to interfere with the flickering illumination of the many braziers and torches that lined the hallways and chambers. Several large rooms were lit by massive, hollow bronze-statues of the Bull-Headed God himself - a fire burned within them, causing light to emerge through the statue's eyes, nostrils, mouth, and even the palms of its hands. Several of these statues had small groups of orange-clad monks and acolytes kneeling before them, repeatedly prostrating themselves as they mumbled complex prayers to the greatness of Sargonnas. Clearly, the more devout residents - everyone_else_ had headed to the Arena, where their Temple affiliation bought them preferred seating.

Unfortunately, it seemed that - ironically - none of the higher-ranking priests were amongst those fanatical few. Drawing as many as possible away from the Temple to make the infiltration easier_had_ been part of the plan, of course, but they had rather hoped to be able to single out someone with access and knowledge for interrogation. They had only the vaguest idea about the layout of the Temple, based mostly on casual chatter from the Maharajah - leaving them with no idea where the Ritual of Resolution (as the priests called the act of sending someone back to a past life to check for unresolved issues) took place, nor where the formula or the herbal mixture itself might be kept. On top of that, the Temple had turned out to be quite labyrinthine, and filled with disused rooms whose original purpose the infiltrators could only guess at. Worse, they were very much on the clock - if they hadn't made their way back to the Arena by the time the Tournament ended, even Manushya's illusions would be hard-pressed to cover up their absence.

Finally, in a dark and dusty room that seemed like it had maybe once been used for some kind of ritual sacrifice, but which was currently being used to store old bedrolls, the two invisible sneak-thieves held a whispered conversation, reasonably certain that none would overhear them there. "We can't keep wandering aimlessly... and we haven't seen a single person ranked above Acolyte yet." Direza whispered, eyes flickering to and from the door, just in case someone passed by it and heard them. Anitra nodded automatically, then caught herself at it. Because they were cloaked in the same spell, they_could_ see each other, but it was as indistinct, shadowy figures - facial expressions and gestures did not come across well. "I know. I think we'll have to take a chance and head towards the Great Altar. The High Priest's rooms should be adjoining them, and I wouldn't put it past him to have the formula under lock and key right where he can keep an eye on it himself. Failing that, we've got better odds of catching somebody important there than anywhere else."

Anitra had a feeling Direza, like herself, had fallen victim to habit and nodded in reply, but it hardly mattered. There really was nothing else left to do. Finding the Great Altar would be easy - it was centrally placed, under a great dome quite visible from the outside, and the Maharajah had shared stories of going there for various services in the past - including his father's funeral and his own coronation. However, as the center of the Sargonnas Faith, it was also rife with holy energy - enough to make Anitra nervous. She didn't really want to tick off a_god_ by sneaking into the very heart of his faith - that was the kind of thing that tended to make gods twitchy and thunderbolt-happy, from what she'd heard. Then again, Sargonnas was probably more of a pillar-of-fire type... which did, in fact, make a bit of a difference, considering her Dragonscale Armor and the Carbuncle set into her breastplate. Still, she wasn't sure how long it would stand up to a divine assault, and didn't really want to find out either, so... soft steps all the way.

The Great Altar was as easy to reach as expected - indeed, the hard part had been circling AROUND it, before. It formed the central nave of the temple, with three large corridors leading to it - and a fourth, behind it, leading into the Inner Sanctum. There could be found the well-protected, luxuriously-appointed paddocks where the White Bull, anointed avatar of Sargonnas, was kept, along with the Reliquary and, of course, the personal quarters of the High Priest. There was, by design, no way to reach those areas without passing by the Great Altar. And Great it was - Anitra had to resist the impulse to whistle quietly when she carefully stepped into the huge, domed chamber. Rows of tiered benches, built from baked mud bricks, rose around it, turning the room into a small amphitheater and insuring that hundreds of people could be packed into the chamber and still all have a decent view of the Great Altar.

The altar itself was a fairly impressive piece - carved from a single, massive slab of granite, and inset with what had to be thousands of gold-pieces worth of precious and semi-precious gemstones. Its top bore ominous-looking groves, and despite no doubt being carefully cleaned after each use, there were still vague shadows of discolorations on the stone. Imprints of blood and... other fluids. Carved stone basins set into each of the altar's four sides also hinted at the purpose to which it had been put. Anitra shuddered a bit as she pictured what it would be like - what had happened to Satya in this very room. A young, inexperienced virgin girl, an amphitheater filled with priests, acolytes and monks, all lined up to watch her get raped to death by a horny bull. It reminded her uncomfortably of the rituals of the Bloody Dawn Cult... rituals she, herself, had participated in. Made one wonder what the difference really was between Gods and Demons...

Shaking off the imagery and the pointless thoughts, she started moving around the rim of the chamber - which was, blessedly, quite empty at this time - with Direza following closely at her heels. Staying as far away from the altar as possible, she headed towards the rear corridor, which lacked even a door. A simple curtain, woven with imagery of Sargonnas' might, hung there, concealing whatever lay beyond. Her draconic eyes focused on it, remembering a similar curtain in the Bloody Dawn's high temple, and sure enough, she picked up a faint, vague glow from it. A holy enchantment... but a weak one. Barely perceptible, only visible to her at all when she strained her eyes. It couldn't be a proper trap - no way such a weak enchantment could set off anything dangerous, or even an alarm. It had to be purely passive - probably just preservation-magic to keep the Holy Tapestry or whatever from decaying with time. Such an effect covered the whole temple as it were, like a low-intensity glow, casting diffuse shadows of magical light when she strained her eyes.

So after looking carefully around the room one last time and finding it empty, she carefully pulled the curtain just a bit aside, and stepped past into the corridor beyond. Or, at least, halfway through, before everything went white and she lost her balance. Blinking, she tried to focus again, looking around and wondering why she was sitting down. There was a hum in her ears, and she slowly realized that she had to be temporarily deaf - mostly because she could see Direza, lying on her back a short ways away, her cloak smoldering as she writhed on the floor. No way she wasn't making a sound. As the hum in her ears turned into a slowly-fading, high-pitched whine, it also gradually dawned on her that she could see Direza quite clearly. The invisibility-spell had been broken!

Finally, the whine faded from her ears, and her hearing returned - informing her that not only was Direza indeed groaning in pain on the floor, there was also a sound of sandal-clad feet marching calmly across the floor. She tried to get to her feet, but her muscles were sluggish and unresponsive. She wasn't paralyzed, not quite, but she couldn't move properly either... it was fading, though. Whatever it was, it wouldn't hold her for long. Perhaps it would hold her too long still, though, she thought as the curtain before her was parted, and a withered, bald-headed, white-bearded man stepped through, supported by a crooked staff. The look he gave her as he approached was laced with loathing. The High Priest! It had to be. And he was alone. No honor-guard. No monks had rushed into the room when she set off that trap, however the hell she had missed it. He must have expected her to be completely disabled by the trap, as Direza had... so she still had a chance to turn the tables on him, by recovering faster than he expected. It wouldn't be the first time she had surprised someone with her draconic constitution.

The sharpness that gleamed in his eyes as he loomed over her, however, made her suspect that he did not surprise easily. "Ah. Stunned, for now, indeed. You are quite the monster, are you not? The full wrath of Sargonnas was unleashed upon you, and you are merely dazed. Your 'handmaiden' was more heavily impacted, despite only catching the edge of the shockwave! Hah. Any actual_human_ would have been incinerated on the spot, leaving nothing but a cloud of floating ash. But I'm sure_you're_ just surprised that you were affected at all. Used to being invincible, aren't you, monster? But Almighty Sargonnas knows your kind. He knows how to deal with you, and how to take advantage of your arrogance. You see the magic in the curtain, yes? But you do not see the magic right BEHIND it." He laughed, gloating over her as he poked her with his staff, and Anitra's heart sank. She really had walked right into that one, not stopping to realize that the magic bound into the curtain would conceal any magical traps positioned right BEYOND it. But then again, she hadn't expected to encounter a trap designed specifically for a DragonRider. Was this nasty old man really getting his information straight from a_god?_

Apparently satisfied that he has delivered a suitably scathing indictment of her folly, the High Priest contemptuously turned his back on her and approached the Great Altar itself, where he carefully lowered himself to his knees and begin to intone a prayer in the Language of the Gods. That, alone, was bad news. Much like the Language of Magic, the Language of the Gods was not of mortal origin... and while the Language of Magic could be learned from the study of magical grimoires or ancient tomes (if you did not, like Blake, possess it intrinsically), the Language of the Gods could be learned only directly from the source... the gods themselves. And they usually only bothered to teach it to their most remarkable servants - Priests beyond High. Needless to say, using that tongue could invoke miracles beyond the reach of your average cleric, especially when - like here - it was used at the heart of a god's domain.

Struggling to get her protesting body under control again, Anitra grimaced and, with supreme effort, managed to make her twitching arms cooperate. Her legs were still too shake to stand, but she managed to roll over and push herself up on hands and knees, crawling towards the altar. She still had her sword. She wasn't sure what would happen if she killed the High Priest of Sargonnas on his altar, but she had a bad feeling it couldn't possibly be worse than what would happen if he finished his prayer. The handful of steps to the altar, however, seemed a journey of days, now that she was dragging herself across the floor at an agonizingly slow pace...

Sure enough, she didn't make it. The old priest was no fool. He'd known exactly how long he could spare to gloat. She had only just started to pull herself up the steps leading to the Great Altar's dais when a haze of fire formed above the blood-stained altar. As Anitra looked up at it and winced, she felt her mind begin to clear. She should've called Blake. He'd have had farther to go, but he could've also moved infinitely faster. He might've stopped the priest, captured him alive for an attempted interrogation... definitely could've gotten her and Direza out in one piece. Now, it was too late. The fiery haze was coalescing, growing, rising towards the domed ceiling, taking on the form of a colossal figure - a bronze-skinned giant with the head of a bull and burning embers for eyes. Sargonnas was manifesting on the mortal plane, if only partially, and even a dragon could not stand against such might... as her own magical 'immunity' had just demonstrated so painfully.

The burning eyes of the towering figure were focusing on her, now - looking right past the old priest, who had now prostrated himself on the floor, forehead to the ground, mumbling non-stop prayers to himself. " Ah. One of the Riders, indeed. As suspected. I had hoped to have seen the last of your pesky kind. Your Lord is not far, I suspect. Have you come to finish me? Or to deprive me of yet another group of worshipers? Speak!" The voice seemed to be resonating through her body as much as the air, driving straight into her mind. It still took her a moment to get her tongue under control, but once she did, she could not remain silent. "I... no? I don't know what you are talking about. I just came here to obtain a secret held close by the Temple. I would have bargained for it, bought it at any price, but the priest refused..."

The gigantic apparition snorted. " Truth. Surprising. My servant was certain your stated goal was but a deception. Not surprising is your presence here, then. I know how mortals think. What you cannot buy, you seek to steal..." Anitra winced at this, but then rallied. She was talking to a_god_. And he wasn't throwing thunderbolts at her yet. Well, not MORE thunderbolts, anyway. And the hit she'd taken before was definitely wearing off - she could've gotten to her feet if she wanted to, but it seemed a good idea to remain kneeling for now - gods tended to like that. She spared a glance towards Direza, and saw that -as she had hoped - the elf-girl had managed to get herself together enough that she was now clutching her holy focus tightly in one hand, murmuring a healing-spell. Hopefully, Sargonnas would not take offense at another god being invoked in his church... perhaps better to keep him distracted.

Gazing up at the semi-manifest god, she tried to compose her face in a suitably apologetic grimace. "I apologize for my trespass, mighty Sargonnas. My need is great, and I could see no other options..." The burning-coal eyes narrowed as they gazed down on her - then he snorted again. " Great need, you say? For the simple secret of a herbal mixture? I see. I see indeed. You seek the past. You know not why I have a thousand reasons to despise you. Why I could torture you for centuries without it being suitable recompense for the sins of your kind. And for that reason alone, it would be a waste of time." He sighed sadly, but Anitra felt her heartbeat - which had been accelerating massively when he started talking about torture - begin to slow back down. Apparently, she'd said the right thing... if largely by accident.

The towering figure rubbed his bovine chin with one immaterial hand. " But perhaps you SHOULD know. Yes. Know the sins of your predecessors. The sins your Master carries with him in his damned, wandering soul. The knowledge would be of no use to you, anyway. He is gone, after all... for good." Anitra kneeled quietly while the god talked, seemingly mostly to himself. No-one had ever cautioned her not to interrupt a god who seemed to be doing what you wanted him to anyway, no matter how much you wanted to scream "What are you TALKING about?!" at him. But despite occasional evidence to the contrary, she really wasn't_entirely_ without common sense.

Finally, the spectre of Sargonnas nodded to himself, and focused his attention on her once more. " I have reached a decision. The secret you desire is a minor thing indeed. If you debase yourself suitably before me, I will grant you that small favor. I think I may take some small pleasure from seeing an inheritor of those who once wronged me so humiliated, be she ever so unknowing." His fiery gaze fell briefly on Direza, who had managed to stagger to her feet after healing her own injuries, and was now looking up at him with a bewildered expression on her face. Seemingly on a whim, he lifted one flaming eyebrow. " Hm. A servant shares in the guilt of their master. She may assist you, I suppose."

It occurred to Anitra that Sargonnas hadn't bothered to actually ask whether she accepted his 'offer'. That's gods for you, she pondered as she gestured for the still-confused and rather awed-looking Direza to join her by the altar. Not that it mattered all that much - it sounded like a fairly sweet deal. She had certainly debased herself for less in the past. At this point, she wasn't sure how much base she had left, really. And if Anitra was getting severely low on base, Direza was thoroughly baseless by now. She'd just started wondering exactly how she was supposed to 'debase herself' to someone who seemed about as solid as a candle-flame, when the sound of hooves answered it for her. Shouldering the magical curtain aside, a huge, bright-white bull emerged from the passage leading to the Inner Sanctum, called by the will of Sargonnas himself...

It was a magnificent specimen indeed, she had to admit. Huge and heavy with muscles, the legacy of a life of luxury and ample mating-privileges - heck, it probably got regular massages from a bevvy of nubile priestesses, or something. It probably had a proud look in its eyes, normally... but right now, they were vague, empty even of the foggy will animals normally possessed. It plodded mindlessly towards the altar, forcing both her and the old High Priest to quickly shuffle aside to make space. She couldn't resist glancing between its legs as it moved past her, and found herself almost drooling at the sight - a scrotal sack filled by a pair of testes each bigger than a man's fist dangled between the bull's hind legs, and in front of that, a thick, well-filled sheath hung heavy. Then her attention returned to the mindless bull's huge head, as it obediently placed it on the altar, and the shimmering phantasm above began to pour itself down into the waiting, physical body.

Taking the opportunity - counting on Sargonnas being too occupied with the act of possessing his chosen avatar to pay much attention to her - she pulled Direza in close for a whispered conference. The confused drow-girl had crept over to her side earlier, and was now kneeling obediently by her side, nodding in dawning understanding as Anitra brought her up to speed. By the time the glowing figure above the altar was gone, its inhuman radiance transferred to the great, white bull - whose eyes now burned with divine will and purpose - they both knew how to proceed. The fact that the already-large bull seemed to have grown a handspan or so in height during the possession didn't really change the plans, either. It just made Anitra even more eager to get on with the party.

She quickly bowed low on the ground, groveling before the bull-god. "Oh, Mighty Sargonnas! If it pleases you, allow me to sacrifice my unworthy body to your greatness upon this great altar!" She felt rather satisfied with the amount of piety she had managed to inject into her words, but Sargonnas did not seem impressed " Hah. You are hardly worthy to touch my altar, but I suppose it will serve nonetheless. It is of a convenient height, at least." His voice still rumbled with an inhuman timbre, but now that it was coming from the faintly-glowing bull rather than an immense apparition, it was somewhat less... bone-shaking, at least.

Scrabbling up to the altar in what she hoped was a suitably respectful way, she noticed out the corner of her eyes that the old High Priest had backed off further, and was now kneeling on the floor a ways back from the altar, swaying slightly with his eyes closed as he prayed. Apparently, he didn't want to watch the show... heh. Perhaps sensible. Wouldn't want his old heart to get overexcited. She had to restrain herself from shaking her ass in his general direction as she slipped out of her bright-red dragonscale panties and bent over the middle of the altar. It was obvious where she was supposed to go - there was a groove, after all, though the indentations at the top were... a bit undersized for her equipment, leaving her tits uncomfortably squashed against the cold granite. Her legs were spread wide, owing to the relatively low height of the altar, her ankles near the outer corners, where worn attachment-points indicated that chains would have held them in place during a normal sacrifice. The wrists, meanwhile, would have been attached to the upper corners of the opposite side of the altar, leaving the sacrifice in what was essentially a spreadeagled position, albeit bent sharply at the waist.

The god-possessed bull didn't waste any time at that point. In one leap - proving surprising agility for such a massive, muscular beast - it was on top of her, his thick forelegs thundering down onto the dais, hitting indentations that showed it wasn't the first time. Far from it. Indeed, Sargonnas probably hadn't needed to prod the bull much at all - after all, until the Maharjah's recent legislative interference, the bull had accepted a 'sacrifice' on this very altar every year. Unlike those misfortunate girls, however, Anitra was quite ready for the ordeal - and had help. As soon as Sargonnas had jumped into place, Direza had dived in between his hind-legs - ducking to avoid banging her head on his huge, dangling nutsack - and put her mouth to good use. Her lips and tongue caressed the thick, bovine tool that had already emerged halfway from its sheath, causing the bull to pause, a slight groan emerging from his muzzle.

The bull-cock was simple in shape, but huge - an unassuming, slightly oval tip, and a shaft that started out wrist-thick and got bigger further down. Direza, however, did quick work - and even managed to sneak in a few quick, saliva-drenched licks on Anitra's asshole while caressing the huge, rapidly-hardening rod with slender fingers and soft lips. By the time the thick tool had fully emerged from its sheath and hardened to a point similar to the granite beneath, it was also thoroughly lubricated by Direza's spit, ensuring that the level of friction would be kept comfortably low as the Drow's agile fingers guided it towards Anitra's asshole.

Anitra moaned lustily as she felt it push her sphincter open, entering into her well-tried ass. It was thick, all right - thick and hot - and she knew it would get thicker soon. Still, with Blake reasonably close by, her DragonRider flexibility was running at just about full tilt, rendering the oversized bull's girth entirely manageable. Better yet, she realized as the huge bull grunted and thrust forwards, plunging at least a solid foot of his thick shaft into the dank depths of her rectum, it seemed like the bull-cock had just the right size. That perfect spot where it wasn't big enough to cause serious pain, but still big enough to strain against her insides, giving her that delightful feeling of being filled to capacity...

She and Sargonnas grunted almost in unison as he bottomed out, his hefty sack swinging forwards to bounce off her pussy. At the very base, just before the sheath, the shaft was just about as thick as Blake's, she thought - and the full length wasn't far off either, though it was noticeably thinner at the tip. As she had suspected, it sent just a_twinge_ of pain through her now tautly-stretched sphincter. Just enough to warn her that she was pushing the limits. Perfect! She twisted her ass around the huge, lubed-up rod, eager for the god-bull to quit dallying and get down to some serious fucking. Maybe Direza was distracting him. According to the plan, she'd be behind him now, kissing and licking his balls, rimming his bovine asshole, and just generally trying to provide a suitable level of 'debasement'.

Finally, with a snort, the massive bull got moving, pumping his muscular hips and sending waves of delightful friction up through Anitra's insides. Moments later, she felt something soft brush against her pussy, indicating that Direza had moved as planned, now that Sargonnas' movements prevented her from lavishing her oral attention on his balls and asshole. Instead, she'd positioned her head underneath his cock, letting her tongue caress it as it exited Anitra's ass, maintaining the lubrication and, presumably, lowering the baseness of the situation a bit more. The bull's big balls would be bouncing off her skull on a regular basis, smothering her with the musky scent of male arousal, which, alas, the lithe Drow would be unlikely to appreciate properly.

Whether due to a satisfactory level of debaseity or the tightness of Anitra's ass, Sargonnas seemed to be approaching his first orgasm with impressive speed - she could tell from the jerkiness of his thrusts, the speed of his breath, and even the pace of his heartbeat, as felt through the pulsing of the huge cock lodged deep in her asshole. She wondered, as she eagerly pushed her hips back to meet his powerful thrusts, what she'd get when he came. Probably just the kind of baseline Quickening that a large, powerful animal could provide - Sargonnas himself wasn't actually physically there, after all. On the other hand, he_was_ infusing the bull with his essence, so maybe she'd get to catch some low-key divinity... which would really make the whole trip worthwhile by itself.

Anitra's spine tingled as a climax surged through it, rising from her stretched-open asshole to flood her mind. Since getting pregnant, she'd had no shortage of anal sex, but that didn't prevent her from appreciating a high-quality ass-fucking in full, and the moan on her lips was as lusty as ever. Perhaps as a response to that - or because of the way her cock-filled ass squeezed down on its rock-hard intruder as the orgasm hit her muscles - the bull climaxed as well. A burst of thick, almost jelly-like cum blasted into her ass where her inhuman physiology eagerly went to work on it, even as she relished the hot, slimy sensation.

She closed her eyes in pleasure as the familiar surge of the Quickening overtook her. A tingling high, filling her brain with energy and confidence, and her body with inhuman strength and endurance... and something more. Was she getting a taste of divine power after all? No... it didn't feel... it wasn't... something was wrong! It wasn't adding to her energy, it was siphoning it away. The high was fading rapidly, and then some. She felt... tired, battered, exhausted. Pain was radiating from her ass to a steadily increasing degree. Her legs were shaking and smarting from maintaining the odd pose, and the granite altar was digging painfully into her unprotected midsection.

Wrong, it was all... no... it didn't matter... she was not_supposed_to enjoy it, after all. She was not worthy to receive pleasure from the Almighty Sargonnas. She was a mere sacrifice, after all. Honored to glory in his presence, even if it were the last thing she ever did. Indeed, the chance to give her body and her life to the Bull-Headed God was a glorious gift! The pain that shot through her body as he resumed thrusting was insignificant next to that. Even though her bones were creaking under the stress, even though she couldn't breathe when He fully penetrated her, even though she could feel hot blood trickling down her thighs from her torn sphincter, she could only lift her eyes to the awesome being above her and hope that the sacrifice of her body would be judged sufficient by the Divine Bull.

" Hah. I wonder if some part of you remains intact enough to be surprised. Did you truly think you could absorb even a fragment of my divinity? That twisted body He gave you may be a potent gift indeed, but what one god has made, another can unmake..." His mighty voice rolled down through her, resounding through her mind. To hear His words, His voice, greater than that of any mortal, was truly an unspeakable honor! Though, he couldn't possibly be addressing_her_. Surely, she could not be worthy of such attention, and besides, she had no idea what He could be talking about. She was merely a sacrifice, after all - her purpose was to expend her mortal body in order to grant pleasure to a being who was infinitely her better.

The divinely-imbued bull-cock pounded Anitra swiftly despite the extreme tightness of her depowered ass, lubricated by a gooey mix of cum and blood. The thrusts sent potent shockwaves through her internal organs, with her lungs bearing the brunt of the assault. Already forced to breathe in rhythm with the brutal fucking she was receiving, her labored breathing was soon further impacted by the need to cough up blood inbetween gulping down as much life-giving oxygen as she could manage. Considering the pain that was coursing through her damaged body, blacking out from lack of air seemed like an attractive option, really, but her foggy mind refused to let her give anything less than her best in the service of her god.

Finally, the bone-shaking thrusts stopped, and the battered nerves in the depths of her ass reported that a fresh load of thick bull-cum had been dumped there. The current position of Sargonnas' cock forced her to take shallow breaths only, and with every cough, her vision darkened. Then, mercifully, he pulled back, letting her breathe freely (or as freely as her damaged lungs could manage) again. She watched in awe as His massive forelegs found purchase on empty air, letting Him climb over the altar as he continued backwards, his thick cockhead finally leaving her shattered anus. " Get up, wench. Your ass has fouled my holy rod - clean it at once!" Again, His divine voice vibrated through her body, and this time, it seemed clear that he was, indeed, talking to her! Warmth filled her heart at the honor He had graced her with as she pushed her aching body away from the altar, sinking to her knees as much out of awe as out of an inability to stand.

Her eyes registered the High Priest, kneeling with his face on the ground some distance away, praying devotedly, and she saw that this was as it should be. She also, however, saw a strange girl with ash-gray skin and ivory hair kneeling nearby, an expression of horror and consternation on her face. An unbeliever, presumably - unable to understand the unspeakable honor of being graced by the presence of a god, she was instead overawed and filled with terror as she beheld His divine radiance. Shrugging the woman off as unimportant, she instead turned her attention on the glorious form of the Almighty Sargonnas, and the task he had so graciously given her.

His divine rod hung thick and hard under His flanks, stained - as He had said - by a sticky mixture of His holy seed and the unworthy debris of her body... residue scraped from the inside of her ass, and copious amounts of blood. It was still dripping from her ass as her torn sphincter tried and failed to close - and this, too, was as it should be. It was right that the Great Altar be stained by the blood of the faithful, and right that her body should continue to bear the mark of His touch. With her legs still uncooperative, she pulled herself across the dirt until she kneeled in the shadow of Sargonnas' Himself, and reached for his tool, filled with awe that she had been permitted to touch it thus - and even, mercy of mercies,_taste_it.

She quickly set to work, ignoring the generalized ache in her body and the agony pulsating out from her bleeding asshole. Her tongue lashed over the smooth surface, removing the bitter-salty layer of mixed blood and ass-residue. More blood than anything else, she gathered from the metallic undertones, but this fact failed to cause any concern. She just worked her way up eagerly from the base towards the head, where several large globs of stained cum clung invitingly to the slick surface, promising her a taste of something her palette was thoroughly unworthy of sampling.

A few minutes later, she was done - the divine tool cleansed of blood and slime. She paused to admire her work, her heart fluttering as she felt the godlike flavor of His cum linger on her tongue. There had been a fair amount of it clinging to the cockhead, and she had held it in her mouth for a few seconds after finishing, before guiltily swallowing it - it would not do for her to rise above her station, and seek to keep more than she had been given. So instead, she simply stared adoringly up at the Bull-God, until He deigned to turn His sight back on her, and once again let His voice be heard, vibrating through her body. " Well enough done. Now, return to the Great Altar, and on your back this time, so that you might sacrifice your other orifice to my glory as well."

She nodded, and began to crawl back towards the altar, eager to finish her sacrifice. She was growing increasingly fatigued, anyway, as the blood continued to drip from her rear, and waves of pain washed through her with every shuddering breath. It was good that she still had the strength to serve Almighty Sargonnas one more time... and yet... somehow, she found it difficult to move towards her goal. Her arms were... seizing up. Her body, even the bits that should still be mostly functional, were refusing to cooperate. Worse, a strange feeling was piercing her mind... telling her not to do it. To disobey a direct order from her God. Unthinkable! And yet, somehow, all unbidden, the thought was there.

Then, the strange, gray-skinned woman was there too, clinging to her, holding her back. Tears stained her elfin features as she clung on tight, gazing up at the Almighty Sargonnas with a mixture of despair and defiance. "Please! Not that!" she cried "Don't do that to her! Let me take her place! You said I shared in her sins, right? So let me take that punishment in her stead." What a madwoman. Did she truly think that she could argue with a_God?Sway Him with tears and pleas? And what was she talking about, anyway? What sins? What punishment? Being a sacrifice to the Glory of Sargonnas was an_honor, one she knew well she was unworthy of receiving... and yet... something in those words were resounding with the same thought that was stopping her from fighting back against the woman. With a groan, she bowed her head, feeling stabbing headache wash over her as she sought to block out the confusing words being exchanged above her.

Sargonnas, meanwhile, tilted his head and then snorted down at Direza. " I said you could _ assist _ her, not that you might take her place. This is part of the Ritual. I will not see it interrupted, mortal!" And yet, the mortal continued to stubbornly cling to the Rider, shaking her head in denial. Grumbling, Sargonnas wondered at the sudden resistance of the previously pliable women, and narrowed his eyes. Then his bovine eyebrows rose. " Ah. I see now. A life grows within her... one you would not see extinguished. Hmph. I suppose the things I said about the pointlessness of extracting any true measure of revenge upon the Rider goes double for an unborn child..." Turning his attention to the ashen-skinned servant, he ran his eyes over her body in turn.

" So you would take her place, to spare her that price... do you understand that in doing so, you risk your life? My influence may have sapped her gifts, but not entirely. Some small measure of that foul power remains - enough that she will live though the experience, and likely heal swiftly once my energies have left her. You have no such gift. Nor, I perceive, much experience with... beings of my scale. Many a girl have died upon this altar, elf... and while far younger, they were not much smaller than you. Nor did they have to contend with my Avatar in a fully-imbued state. The exchange you suggest could easily result in you sharing their fate."

His firm voice shook Direza's body and mind, stating the matter in a coldly factual fashion. It was clear that should she die, her insides torn open by his rampaging cock, leaving her to bleed to death on his Altar, it would upset him not in the slightest. Nonetheless, she nodded without hesitation. "I am aware, great Sargonnas. It does not deter me." With a final glance at Anitra, who was by now curled up in a ball on the floor, clutching her head and muttering to herself, Sargonnas snorted and nodded. " Then lay yourself upon my Altar, elf, and prepare yourself to receive my rod."

Melora panted as she circled around her opponent, placing her hooves with great care. The sands of the arena did not favor her - her hooves were made for firm ground, grass, even rock... in the shifting sand, her human opponent had an advantage in terms of grip, thanks to his larger feet. It wasn't the only advantage he held, either. His armor was light and left much skin uncovered, which seemed like a weakness until you noticed the kind of environment that it was designed for. In the humid jungles of Ganarãjya, wearing the kind of heavy plate armor that the paladins of most gods favored would be a suicide-pact - even magical cooling would only stave off the inevitable problems, not prevent them. Her own armor was hardly full-plate, and left a fair bit of skin uncovered - but considering the short coat that covered said skin, she was still getting dangerously close to heatstroke, even as the sweat accumulated on the inside of the armor plating.

In particular, it was accumulating in the hollow of her breastplate, taking advantage of the gap between what passed for her breasts at the moment, and the sculpted metal designed for a far larger pair. The hot water was making the tender tissue of her still-regenerating assets itch, providing a dangerous distraction on top of the many others that haunted her. Last time she had dared to glance up at Lord Blake, he had seemed nervous - though only someone intimately familiar with his moods would have noticed it. He'd been sneaking glances of his own in the direction of the Temple, and fidgeted. Most likely, the mission she was providing cover for wasn't going well.

Her opponent lunged, taking advantage of all the traction his sandaled feet could draw from the sands of the arena. She only had a split second to decide. Stab or sweep? He was too fast. He'd dance around the edge of her glaive and follow the shaft back to her if she stabbed. But if she swept... ah, yes, that might work. She swung her glaive in a powerful arc from left to right at waist-height, giving him no space to dodge around it. As she'd expected, he dug his feet into the ground and jumped back, narrowly avoiding the heavy blade, and then darted forwards again, veering towards her left side. Here, the weight of her glaive worked against her - there was no way she could reverse the direction of the blow fast enough to catch him before he got inside her range. The first time that had happened, he had been surprised by the strength of her armor. Even his blessed blade couldn't bite through the dragon-enchanted steel, and he'd bounced off without even leaving a scratch. He didn't seem like the sort to make the same mistake twice.

So instead, he made a new one; he paid too much attention to the weapon, and not enough to the one wielding it. He was completely blindsided as her hand, driven by centrifugal forces as she allowed her body to be twisted by the glaive she still held in the crook of her right arm, rose to meet him. Her gauntleted fist hit his face with crushing force, literally lifting him off his feet as the rest of his body tried to continue on its path forwards. She'd been aiming for his chin, and thus a classic knock-out blow, but he'd instinctively jerked his head back from the approaching fist... so she'd hit his face instead, shattering his nose and sending several teeth flying. It made no difference, ultimately. With no face-guard, the impact was enough to crack his skull, and there was no need for her to even follow up with her glaive as he fell flat on his back, groaning through shattered teeth, his body convulsing in pain and confusion as the concussion she'd just delivered fogged his mind.

A cheer went up from the crowd. It still surprised her that the people of Ganarãjya would cheer for someone who was not only a foreigner, but also beating down their nation's celebrated elites... but apparently, the appreciation of a really good show overrode all those concerns. She took the opportunity to look around the arena. The Maharajah had lifted his hand, declaring the match over, and the healers were already dashing in to retrieve her fallen foe. He probably needed their care even more than her previous opponent, despite the fact that_he'd_ been cut apart by her glaive as opposed to merely punched... but reattaching limbs and halting blood-loss was a simple matter for a skilled healer, while brain-trauma just never stopped being troublesome.

With a deep breath, she reminded herself that she had a role to play, and turned towards the half-empty section of arena-seating where Lord Blake sat, alongside Manushya and the illusions she had crafted. Raising her bloodied fist in victory - which brought on a fresh round of cheers - Melora then proceeded to extravagantly bow towards them. The illusion of Anitra lifted an imperious hand, deigning to show favor to her champion. It was all some very impressive legerdemain - however creepy Manushya was, one could not deny her mastery over illusion. But what the audience did not realize was that Melora's eyes weren't on her supposed 'mistress', but on her true Lord. And if anything, he seemed even more concerned now. His claws were digging into the stone steps that made up the main portions of the arena's seating, as if he was restraining himself from jumping up and flying to Anitra's aid. Still, he noticed her glance, and returned it for just long enough to give her a quick nod. A sign that her efforts were recognized, she knew, and let the warmth this birthed in her heart spread through her tired limbs.

She would have an all-too-short break in the dugout, now, to recover and rehydrate. The remaining semifinals wouldn't take long. And then it was time for the last fight. It didn't matter if she won, but she could not allow herself to lose too quickly - if the fight ended before the real Anitra returned, things would get... out of hand, quickly. Maybe she should've tried to draw out her first match more... too late to worry about that now, though. She would just had to play defense in the final match, though not to the point where the audience became suspicious... and try not to worry TOO much about what was going on with Anitra and Direza. With a sigh, she picked up the jug of chilled water that had been placed in the dugout for her use and drank deeply. She had to focus on her own challenges, and let those two deal with theirs. They would not be easily overcome.

Direza winced as she felt the cold granite against her bare skin. Since her outfit, unlike Mistress Anitra's, wasn't specifically designed to allow for sexual intercourse without removing most of it, she'd had to strip down completely to get her underwear off. Not that the chill was the only reason to wince. She was, after all, on her back, with her legs in the air and her fingers desperately digging into her snatch, pulling it open as best she could in the hopes of stretching it out at least a little bit. Maybe improve its elasticity just a smidgen in the handful of seconds she had left before the ludicrously well-hung bull reached the altar. She'd gotten a good look at his tool earlier, while she'd been providing oral support for Mistress Anitra's leading act - it was nearly as big as Lord Blake's. Just as thick as his draconic tool at the base, really, though only there - instead of a uniformly-thick shaft with a conical cockhead, this one was got steadily thinner towards the end, terminating in a flat, broad tip.

It was definitely bigger than anything she'd ever had inside her before. She wasn't a big fan of dicks. It wasn't that she had anything_against_ them, really, it was just kind of... poor associations, perhaps? Lingering memories of the young men who had pleasured her when she'd still been the High Priestess of Lolth, supreme ruler of Commorragh. It was only when Mistress Anitra introduced her to a new kind of pleasure, one borne of fingers and tongues, that her life had turned around. Of course, that didn't mean that her pussy had lacked for visitors since then. There'd been the Umber Hulk she'd served on her Mistress' orders on the night she'd been blessedly reunited with her, various strap-ons and toys, and of late, magically-produced dicks produced by Lord Blake's sorcery. Mistress Anitra had even seen fit to fist her once or twice, an experience she had been only too happy to receive.

However, in the end, about the biggest thing that had ever guested her snatch had to have been Melora's equine cock, during those occasional sessions where she had been thusly imbued by Lord Blake. It had happened only three times in the relatively brief span of time since Lord Blake acquired that spell, and in each case, it had stretched her open to a painful degree. She hadn't minded much, though - she could tell that it brought great pleasure to Melora, and the horse-girl had become a dear friend to her. They often shared some gentle, low-key pleasure with one another when their Master and Mistress were too busy or too occupied with one another, and she knew well that she got a lot more out of those sessions than Melora did. So it was only fair. Now, however, she rather wished that she'd tried to arrange those sessions a bit more often. Most likely, Lord Blake would have been willing to use the spell on Melora if she'd requested it in a suitable fashion - it was clear enough that it amused him to push the two of them together. It might have prepared her for this a bit better... a cock easily inches thicker than Melora's, and longer by at least a foot.

At least the head was similar, in both size and profile, she thought as the divinely-imbued bull finally reached the altar and jumped over it, catching her between the unyielding stone of the altar and his equally-unyielding chest. He'd taken his time, probably enjoying ratcheting up the tension. His cock, presumably guided by his divine will, hit its mark with unerring precision, sliding over her fingers as she continued to pull her pussy open for him. The initial sensation was, as she had expected, rather similar to those past sessions with Melora - so, not all that unpleasant, once she'd gotten her fingers pulled out of the way and let the soft folds of her labia encircle the engorged cockhead. She was being stretched painfully, sure, but the pain was fairly light, and while she didn't posses Melora's outright masochism, Mistress Anitra_had_ taught her how to enjoy a slight sting of pain, as spice scattered upon a greater pleasure.

Nor was the feeling of a thick, hot cock sliding into her pussy inherently unpleasant. It was certainly filling her completely, ensuring that the smooth-yet-veiny surface caressed every sensitive part of her insides. Whatever her own preferences, her body was ultimately designed to welcome that sensation. To relish it. Well... at least until the steady widening of the tapered cock ratcheted up the pain in her stretched-open pussy past the point of familiarity. She'd never been stretched this far. This kind of thing was Melora's field, not her own. The sturdily-built horse-girl had repeatedly offered her body to full-sized dragons, including several that were larger - in every sense of the word - than Lord Blake. She could have handled this bull with ease - probably way better than Mistress Anitra had, even, since_her_ 'flexibility' wasn't the result of some arcane blessing, but a combination of her physiology and copious amounts of practice.

But Melora wasn't here. And Mistress Anitra had been depowered, hopefully temporarily. So it was up to her. Even if she couldn't_enjoy_the pain, as Melora (and, to a lesser degree, Anitra) did, she could damn well weather it. For her Mistress. For Anitra. And if her body gave out under the strain, so be it. With that thought, she forced her muscles - already instinctively tensing up as a response to the pain - to relax - and let her head rest against the bloodstained altar beneath. There was no need for her to watch. No need for her to act. She couldn't even invoke the power of Lolth to help her - not here on the very altar of another god, sandwiched between it and the living avatar of said god. She simply had to endure. But even that resolution could not stop her teeth from gnashing as she felt the flat head of the huge bull-cock push forcefully against her womb, then pull back for the run-up...

Anitra groaned as the pain in her head began to clear, taking the fogs with it. With the return of clarity, several realizations arrived in rapid succession. That bastard, Sargonnas! He had... used her Quickening somehow, to infiltrate her mind, changing it. She'd never even considered the possibility of getting a 'bad trip' from the Quickening, but now she had... and it was about the worst she'd ever felt. Her body still ached, though she could feel that her natural healing was already working on correcting the damage done to it - if nothing else, it didn't seem like Sargonnas' dirty trick had done anything to prevent the simple power of his bull-hosts' jizz from being absorbed and stored by her body, to be used as soon as the power-dulling effects faded.

But worse than that was the humiliation. Not the kind she sometimes got off on, no... but rather the entirely unsexy humiliation of being entirely outmaneuvered and outsmarted. The fact that it was a literal_god_ who had done so did not appreciably dull that feeling. Sargonnas had known perfectly well that 'debasing herself' before his Altar would mean less than nothing to her - that if anything, she'd enjoy it. So he'd raped her mind instead. And he'd almost... her head flew up as the memories that had accumulated during the 'trip' caught up with her. Then she groaned again as the sudden movement caused a fresh stab of pain to flash through her skull. She's almost lost her unborn child! And Direza... faithful, dedicated Direza had taken her place!

As her blurred vision cleared, she first froze in fear, then breathed a sigh of relief in rapid succession. Direza was lying by the altar, on the ground, the place between her legs a bloody cavern. More blood was pooled around her, and stained the granite of the altar itself afresh. But the Drow still lived - and one of her slender hands was placed on her abdomen, glowing faintly as the elf's pale lips moved with barely-perceptible prayers. She was still alive, and busy healing the damage done to her. Taking a deep breath, Anitra restrained her urge to rush to the dark elf's side - there was nothing she could do for her at this point, except disturb the no-doubt tenuous concentration she was pouring into her healing prayers.

Instead, she turned her aching head to gaze with loathing at the massive presence she sensed not far from her side. Sargonnas stood there, still possessing the white bull, whose cock was dripping with far more blood than after it had left her own wrecked asshole. The bull, eyes aflame, returned her gaze unconcernedly before he spoke up. " If nothing else, I must concede that your servants hold you in high regard. Why, I cannot guess. But I shall not go back on my word. Between you, you have carried out the Sacrifice, in essence if not in result. You shall have your prize. I only hope that what you learn from it will fill you with suitable amounts of consternation and self-loathing."

Turning around, the bull walked away from the altar, leaving a red trail as blood continued to drip from his unsheathed cock. He paused next to the old High Priest, who had not moved from his humble position during the entire event, and still appeared to be devoutly praying under his breath. " Rise, Priest." the avatar rumbled. " She has accomplished the task I set before her. It is my will that she shall be given what she came for. I leave the details up to you - to manage my flock is, as ever, your responsibility." The prayers stopped, though the priest did not lift his head. He simply spoke, still facing the ground. "It shall be as you command, Almighty Sargonnas. I am ever your loyal servant." The bull nodded curtly - a maneuver that seemed decided unnatural on a bovine - and then continued to walk towards the curtained-off path that led back to, among other things, the luxurious paddock where the sacred White Bull was kept. As it walked, the divine radiance that surrounded it gradually faded, and the oppressive presence of the god faded from the room, leaving Anitra to breathe a sigh of relief.

The embroidered curtain had barely fallen into place behind the white bull before the High Priest, with remarkable agility for a man his age who had just spent a significant period bent to the floor, unfolded his lanky body and rose to his feet, looking around at the wreckage his god had left in his wake. A smile touched his narrow lips as he saw the fresh blood staining the Great Altar, before turning his eyes to Anitra - who was getting somewhat shakily to her feet herself - and sighing. "Well. It seems you succeeded in your goals in the end, thief. Needless to say, I can't let you just walk out of here with the secret of the past-lives ritual - but that spectacle you put on to distract the less devout of my brethren might be of benefit here. Return to your co-conspirators and the foolish Maharajah. After the tournament has ended, I will inform him that the display of valorous might on the part of the foreigner's servant convinced me to change my mind..."

He sighed again and shook his head. "All these damnable foreign influences... but, I am as ever the servant of Sargonnas, and if this be his will, then I shall follow." He turned on the heel and was about to leave when Anitra called out to him. "Wait! If you want to keep up that pretense, you'll have to help us get out of here unnoticed, at least! The invisibility-spell we used to get in is broken, after all, and we can't reactivate it on our own." The High Priest stopped in his tracks and sighed, before throwing an annoyed glance over his shoulder. "...fine. Leave this room by the western exit, that will take you through the novice-quarters, which I know for a fact are entirely empty thanks to the spectacle you set up. Use the back door there to get out into the kitchen-gardens. In the corner of the outer wall, behind an old mango-tree, you will find that a number of bricks had been pushed into or pulled out of the wall to form convenient handholds, and that the spikes on top have been filed down. It's a handy little escape-route into town that the novices imagine I don't know about. Now begone."

Giving him a curt nod, Anitra turned her attention to Direza. She was gratified to see that the elf wasn't bleeding anymore, and that her skin had begun to resume its usual, ashen-gray coloration. The blood-loss had paled her to something approaching the gray of a cloudy sky at midday, which Anitra rather suspected wasn't healthy. As she watched, the seemingly-strengthened drow priestess murmured another spell, moving her hand lower as its glow intensified - and before her very eyes, the torn-open cavern of the drow elf's brutalized genitals began to heal, pulling itself back into its original shape, the blood fading as it was absorbed by the skin to aid in the reconstruction. Once the magic had done its work, Direza looked almost normal, albeit still a shade pale and obviously weakened. Anitra wordlessly offered the elf her hand, and as Direza took it, pulled her up and into a tight embrace, feeling the slender girl shake in exhaustion against her. "Thank you." she whispered in her ear. A content sigh was the only response.

Then, after a handful of too-short seconds, she broke the embrace and held her most loyal devotee at arm's length for a moment, running a practiced eye over her. "We need to get out of here. Back to the Arena, before the last fight ends. We've already taken longer than planned. Are you good to move?" Direza took a deep breath, nodded, and shook her limbs as if to get her magically-restored blood back into full circulation. "Yes. I'm fine. All healed up. Let's go." Anitra, however, continued to watch her as she picked up her discarded clothes, equipment and armor - she'd held onto her magical focus only, obviously predicting that she'd need it as soon as Sargonnas was through with her. Anitra herself, of course, only needed to collect her panties from where she'd dropped them by the altar.

As they set off towards the exit that the High Priest had pointed them at, Anitra lent the still-shaky elf-girl her shoulder, one steady arm wrapped around her. Her own damages were rapidly fading as her inhuman physiology kicked into full gear, and even the trauma of the experience was being pushed back. Once she got a_proper_quickening, preferably from Blake, she'd be back in full fighting form, no worse for wear, mentally or physically. Direza, meanwhile... "Don't lie to me..." she whispered to her lithe companion as they navigated the mazelike temple towards the secret exit. "I know sexual damage, and I know the limits of your powers. Your womb..."

Direza, however, just nodded without changing her expression. "Yes. It's gone. He tore it apart. Maybe I could've rebuilt it with Regeneration, but... I didn't have time to weave a spell like that. I had to stop the bleeding before I passed out. So I healed it, as it was. Making it functional and fertile again would take a literal miracle, and it doesn't sound like the gods care much for us. And... that's fine. I wasn't planning to use it, anyway.... not that the fertility of my people is anything to write home about in the first place." Anitra could only nod, though she winced inwards a bit as she felt Direza's shaky hand tighten on her waist as they leaned against one another. "The important thing is that_you're_fine, Mistress. And your unborn child is too. If I'd had to die there, on that altar, that would have been an acceptable price to pay for that... so no, I don't mourn the loss of an organ I had no intention of using for its designed purpose in the first place. I'm just happy I can continue to serve you, Mistress."

Anitra nodded again, unable to find the words to express her feelings. She understood, now, how Blake had felt when Melora offered herself up as she had. Sure, unlike him, she had more experience with feelings, with love... but you were never really prepared for something like this. Seeing someone sacrifice themselves for you, knowing that they would have willingly sacrificed more still. And knowing that the powerful emotions that drove them to that, was something you could never truly return. Direza was dear to her, that was nothing new - she'd felt that way for a while. Heck, she'd thought she was pretty damn adorable even when they first met, under rather adversarial circumstances. The humiliations and denigrations she'd put the girl through had never been born of any kind of mean-spiritedness, but just part of the game they played - she knew very well that even the worst torments ultimately just led the submissive Drow to higher plateaus of pleasure.

And now, this. How could she repay the girl when she wasn't capable of giving her the thing she truly desired and deserved - her unreserved, undivided love? Well... she'd have to think of something, that was all. She couldn't change the fact that, if push came to shove, she would sacrifice Direza's body, life and soul to protect Blake. But short of such extremes, she could perhaps put a bit more thought and effort into ensuring that Direza wholly enjoyed her new life... much as she suspected Blake was planning to do for Melora, now that he'd been forced to face his own feelings for her.

Such thoughts were for later, however. For now, there was the escape. Getting through the Novice Quarters and into the kitchen-garden was easy. Getting the exhausted Direza up and over the wall was more challenging. Getting through the city in bloodstained cloaks would have been all but impossible if it wasn't for the ongoing tournament drawing all attention - the wealthy were all in the arena itself, while the servants they had left behind at their palatial houses were mostly lounging around in the rooftop gardens, out from under their taskmasters' eyes, and watching the fight through 'borrowed' spyglasses and scrying-orbs. Once they got near the arena, however, things rapidly resolved themselves.

Anitra had brought Blake up to date on the way, and he had whispered to Manushya, ensuring that as soon as they were close enough to the arena that doing so wouldn't put her too far from the illusions she was maintaining, the Rakshasi simply turned invisible, left an illusion of herself behind, and jumped down the back of the arena to meet them. The invisibility-charm on the pair of them was renewed, allowing them to easily sneak back inside and up to their seats (albeit leaving a few minor scuffles in their wake, as various members of the audience started arguing with the people next to or behind them that they believed had just nudged them) even as Manushya herself simply flew back up there. Finally, they merged seamlessly with their illusions as the invisibility faded, ensuring that Anitra would appear to be wearing her usual, glamorous dress, and Direza an unstained cloak, until they got back to their chambers.

Down in the sands, Melora seemed pressed. Her opponent was fast, agile, and ferocious, repeatedly darting in and out of her range before she could respond, his sword a blur in the air. Several shallow, bleeding cuts were already visible on her arms and lower legs, though he had yet to touch her face despite repeated attempts. She was also sweating in rivulets and breathing with a steady, heavy rhythm, her movements clearly sluggish with exhaustion and dehydration. However, as soon as Anitra and Direza were in place, Blake flashed the mare a broad, fang-filled grin... and suddenly, the image changed.

Abandoning her defensive stance with brutal suddenness, Melora sprang into action, demonstrating a reserve of energy she had concealed from her opponent so far. Swinging her heavy glaive in a broad arc, she stepped forwards, forcing her opponent to jump back. Then, using the inertia of that blow, she twirled around and brought the weapon down in an earth-shaking overhead blow. It hit the sands like a meteor, sending up a cloud of stinging, blinding particles... which she was ready for. He was not. Without bothering to try and dig her weapon out of the sands again, she simply abandoned it and dashed forwards, seemingly unencumbered by the heavy armor she wore, and seized his sword-hand by the wrist before grabbing him by the throat with her other hand and lifting him up. The young swordsman managed to grab onto_her_ wrist just quickly enough to stop his neck from snapping under the strain, but his face was rapidly going pale as she continued to hold him aloft - armor and all - with one hand. The crowd was already standing and cheering when the Maharajah lifted his hand to declare the match over, just before the elite Akhara passed out from lack of air.

It had been a truly spectacular bout - indeed, Melora had won the hearts of the audience, jaded as they were by the usual displays of formulaic combat between similarly-trained soldiers, or the one-sided slaughter that tended to ensue when condemned criminals were given their final chance in 'trial by combat' against hardened gladiators. On her way back to her chambers in the palace, Anitra had to fend off several nobles and wealthy merchants whose eagerness to ask her where they could acquire a bodyguard of similar quality even overcame their fear of Blake, who walked sedately by her side as they crossed the plaza on their way to the Palace. Normally, she might have tried to use their eagerness to further her plan... but there was no longer any point, and she wanted to get Direza back to the chambers for some much-needed rest as quickly as possible, so she just brushed them off as politely as she could manage.

Later, after she had gotten herself cleaned off and changed into a_real_dress, she was summoned by the Maharajah who was overjoyed to report that the High Priest had had a change of heart. "I must confess, I didn't think your plan would actually work... at least not_this_well!" the Maharajah exclaimed with a broad smile. "Then again, I had no idea what kind of spectacular matches your bodyguard was going to show us. Guess it impressed even that old scarecrow! Either way, he isn't even asking for anything in return - he's offering the secret, herbal mixture use in the ritual 'as a token of good will'. Or, in translation, as a peace-offering. Which suggests that the pinch we put on his income got through to him too." Anitra nodded along, happy enough to let the Maharajah make whatever assumptions suited him. The important thing was that, shortly afterwards, a high-ranking priest arrived from the temple, carrying a sealed scroll containing the formula they had sought. Quite frankly, if she'd had any idea how much trouble it would be to get it - and just what it would wind up costing Melora and Direza - she wouldn't have gone looking for it in the first place. But now she had it... and maybe a chance to find out what Sargonnas had been on about, with all his cryptic remarks about DragonRiders and their powers. He'd certainly been pretty clear about the fact that they had been created by a god - which wasn't terribly surprising, she supposed, since that was the case for most beings. Most gods just tended to be less subtle about it.

Either way, once she actually read the formula, most of the requisite herbs turned out to be fairly common, with just a few being rare or localized to Ganarãjya. Needless to say, with the contacts she'd made during the earlier political maneuvering, it wasn't hard to obtain a plentiful supply of both to take home with her, as well as the connections needed to order more, should she need it. Caravans were already being set up in order to transport the first shipments of hot peppers and similar jungle-spices to the Utopia - she'd have to put some time aside to arranging the details on that end once she got home, she reminded herself - and it wouldn't be hard to add a few more things to their selection. In fact, she already had, asking a merchant specializing in fruit to throw in a few small shipments of local jungle-fruits not found in the equally-fertile rain-forest surrounding the Utopia - ostensibly ones she'd taken a particular liking to, though really, it was ones she'd noticed Melora and/or Direza particularly enjoying. She had nothing against fruits herself, but she had enough dragon in her to feel that anything that hadn't been alive and bleeding at some point wasn't really_proper_food...

The caravans also offered another opportunity, which she seized upon the next day while Melora and Direza - both largely recovered from their respective trials, at least physically - packed up. Manushya's supercharged powers - and with it, her arrogant personality - had worn off previous evening, and she'd been more than a little mortified at how she'd been acting. Despite having already essentially accomplished the task Anitra had originally given her, she'd also made no protest when Blake suggested that she drink the last mouthful of the flexibility-draught and join him on the king-size bed for the night... with both Melora and Direza exhausted and badly in need of rest - and Anitra herself not much better off, plus needing to be well-rested for all the send-off rigmarole the following evening - he was short on female company for the moment.

As a result, Manushya was both bleary-eyed and somewhat bow-legged when Anitra approached her - Blake haven clearly done his best to make his last night with the flexible Rakshasi a memorable one, with a magical Sphere of Silence preventing the resulting acrobatics from disturbing the sleepers - but she rapidly perked up once Anitra's intent came across. Right at first, though, her tiredness just made her seem even more downcast as a rather depressing subject was breached. "Your kind... the way they hide in the general populace of a kingdom that hates you... isn't it just a slow death? Bringing cubs into the world has to be a risky proposition, needing to conceal them until they're old enough to drink blood and understand the need to disguise themselves as humans..."

Manushya nodded morosely. "I guess so. There certainly seems to be fewer and fewer of us. But what else can we do? If we reveal ourselves, we'll be hunted into extinction. And even if we leave, well, there aren't a lot of kingdoms who are welcoming of immigrants, much less magical, cannibalistic monsters. At least here, we know the ways and customs well enough to blend in." Anitra, though, just grinned. "Not a lot of kingdoms, no. But I can think of at least_one_. The Utopia is quite cosmopolitan, you know. We're all about acceptance and peaceful coexistence and whatnot. You and your kind would be welcome there - you could live there, free and safe, without hiding."

Manushya, suddenly awake, just gaped at her as Anitra stroked her chin and continued. "Come to think of it, there's all kinds of sages and alchemists and wizards and such there. Maybe they can figure out a way to activate your powers, at least partially, without the whole... cannibalism thing." Another thought occurred to her, and she grimaced. "Come to think of it, what about dragonblood? I mean, you can get at least a BIT of power just from human blood, so maybe the blood of such a powerful creature can give you more of a boost? I'm sure I could find some willing donors back home..." This snapped Manushya out of her daze, and she shook her head with a laugh. "Ah, no... I thought you knew, since you didn't suggest I try to use your steed's blood instead of your bodyguard's flesh earlier." Anitra shook her head, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. "Knew what? I didn't suggest it since you'd made it clear that_flesh_ was the key to your full powers, and that blood could provide only the highly limited capability you and your kind had been using to disguise yourselves so far."

The Rakshasi shrugged. "Fair enough. Anyway, yeah, that wouldn't work. There's a story that's been passed down since the old days, about a Rakshasa warlord who believed that dragonblood would grant him power even beyond his peers. I won't bore you with the whole thing, but it basically ends '...and then he exploded.' Apparently, dragonblood is a bit too... energetic for our bodies to handle it." Anitra couldn't help but laugh too, at the imagery this brought with it if nothing else. "Fair enough. But hey, that's another thing that sages can work on. Maybe DILUTED dragonblood, or dragonblood mixed with something else, will be just the ticket? I'll leave that to wiser heads than mine. So... what about my offer?"

The smile disappeared from Manushya's face as she grew serious, now clearly fully awake. "Right. That. Well, it's certainly an extremely generous offer. But I'm just a girl. I can hardly make decisions for my whole species. It's... too big." Anitra, however, shrugged off her concerns with a grin. "Well, you don't NEED to make that decision for everyone. You just need to pass on my offer to your family next time you go back home to visit. Your parents will pass it on to others. I'm assuming there's a secret network in place in order to arrange for suitable mates when their kids grow up. Now, what I'm going to do is make sure there's a place for you at the Utopia. Any Rakshasa or Rakshasi who come there will be welcomed. There is no poverty, no starvation, no violence there. Caravans will be running there, starting soon, transporting chili-peppers and other export-goods. You and your kind should be able to get to the Utopia fairly easily just by blending into those caravans."

Manushya nodded hesitantly, her eyes darting to Blake, who looked up from the tray of chili-peppers he'd been snacking on to flash her a mischievous smile. "If you decide to come live there, you should visit us. It would be... fun to see you again." he exclaimed with a fang-filled grin. The white fur on her cheeks turned ever-so-slightly pink as the skin underneath blushed, whether with embarrassment, excitement, or both. She certainly seemed to have admitted to herself that the sexual escapades she'd gotten up to with Blake wasn't blackmail anymore, but driven by mutual desires. The fact that she seemed to be a natural submissive just made her all the more compatible with Blake's intrinsic dominance. Well, that, and everyone but Manushya herself knew what kind of impact losing her virginity while under the influence of the flexibility-draught would have on her sexual development. She'd come, Anitra thought to herself. Even if no other Rakshasa took the offer, Manushya would come. She wasn't going to find anyone capable of satisfying her anywhere else...

That evening, a predictably overwrought but suitably opulent farewell-party filled the Palace's biggest ballroom with light, laughter, music and enough food to feed an army. And, of course, everybody who was anybody, and anybody who wanted to BE somebody. Even the High Priest put in one of his_very_ rare appearances, and even shook hands with Melora in front of the audience, ostensibly to congratulate her on her victory in the arena. "Truly an impressive showing." His words were dry, but lacked any sarcastic bite. "I hope our Akharas have learned something from fighting you. As true servants of Sargonnas, it is their duty to always seek to improve themselves in the arts of battle, and your assistance in making clear certain shortcomings in that regard is most appreciated." He then turned to give Anitra a razor-sharp smile. "As for you, 'my lady'... I still do not approve of the foreign influences you represent, but I have to admit, at the very least... you know how to pick your servants." Anitra put up a painfully polite smile of her own, and earnestly wished that the nasty old man had continued his previous policy of staying the hell away.

After the food was eaten, the hands were shaken, a couple more expensive gifts that Blake couldn't be arsed to carry back home again had been handed out to suitably worthy recipients, and a few last-minute connections, contacts and contracts were made, there was only her well-rehearsed farewell-speech left, ensuring the good people of Akshardham that she had enjoyed their hospitality, been impressed by their culture and arts, and wholeheartedly hoped for a mutually beneficial future relationship of diplomacy, trade, and the free exchange of ideas and innovations. Everyone was suitably impressed, and the applause just enthusiastic enough to suggest that it might be at least somewhat genuine. Then, a firm handshake with the Maharajah, as he made his own - slightly shorter - speech about how great everything was and how much better it would be now that they had more friends.

The upper crust of Akshardham had seen Blake enough times by now that they didn't flinch TOO much when he landed in the Palace courtyard, already loaded down by his well-filled saddlebags. Anitra suspected that there was a certain amount of competition involved in the casual way they kept chatting and eating after-dinner snacks with barely a nervous glance at the huge, deadly predator that had just landed next to them - nobody wanted to suggest to his or her peers that they were easily frightened, or anything less than entirely delighted with their nation's new allies. Only a handful seemed to be genuinely unafraid, however, and when she climbed onto Blake's back alongside Melora and Direza, she could see a glimmer in those eyes... and almost hear their thoughts. Seeing her sit astride a beast that filled virtually all living beings with primal terror, they wondered - how could_they_ acquire such a steed?

Well, that was humanity for ya, she philosophized as Blake's powerful wings carried them up into the fiery sunset sky. Most of them were little more than cattle, easily led around by carrot or stick. But there was always a few who stood out. Who ignored the carrot dangled in front of them in favor of starting their own carrot-farm. Who felt the sting of the stick and then immediately went out to look for a bigger stick. That was probably why humanity had been so successful, despite lacking any of the obvious advantages of the other races. Not as strong or tough as the orcs, not as smart or magically-talented as the elves... heck, even the dwarves, in their isolated fortresses below-ground, had edges over them in terms of crafting-skills and sheer sturdiness. But the dwarves stayed in their caverns, and the elves in their forests, while the orcs' frequent attempts to surge out of their wasteland homes repeatedly came to a crashing halt against the walls of human fortresses. And that wasn't even taking into consideration all the other odd beings that could be found in countless hidden places across the continent - she'd met more creature-species than most people even knew existed on her journeys, many of them possessing extraordinary powers. And yet, they were few and hidden, while mankind spread across the the world in numbers beyond counting. Strange how the world worked...

The flight home was uneventful, and while all four of them were happy to be home, Anitra was immediately caught up in a flurry of activity. She needed to talk to dozens of different dragons to set up the Utopia-end of all the deals she'd made while away, from making sure that the Ganarãyan caravans would be allowed entry into the Utopia's lands, to convincing the ones in charge of settling two-legged arrivals that it would, in fact, be a good idea to set up a refugee-camp for superpowered, illusion-wielding, man-eating tigers. On top of that, she needed to confer with various alchemists and sages about the formula she'd recovered, obtaining the remaining herbs and ingredients needed for it, and making sure it was, indeed, safe. (Which included finding some volunteers to test it on before subjecting her beloved Blake to it... but fortunately, young dragons are just as prone to doing stupid and reckless things just to try something new or impress their peers as young specimens of most_other_species.)

As a result, Blake, Melora and Direza were left somewhat to themselves... though they didn't leave her thoughts. The day after their return, Melora was sent on a simple errand, to retrieve something from the Hall of Artificiers that had been ordered before the group departed for Ganarãya. Blake grinned eagerly as she handed him the item - a simple, iron ring inset with a single ruby surrounded by small diamond shards. "Ah... excellent." he remarked as he looked it over with his magic-sensitive eyes. "Fine craftsmanship indeed. I shall have to convey my appreciation to him." Then he handed the ring, carefully held between two of his razor-sharp talons, down to Melora again. "Here - try it on."

Curious about what magic might have been woven into the ring, and knowing with certainty that her Lord would never have handed it to her if it was truly dangerous, she slipped it onto her finger where, with the familiar effect of magical rings everywhere, it swiftly adjusted to her thicker-than-human digits. Then a familiar heat spread through her nethers, and she quickly lifted the leather skirt she usually wore (mostly because it seemed to amuse her Lord to lift it out of the way or tear it off) out of the way. A thick, equine cock now rose from her groin, throbbing and hard as the iron ring itself. "My dear Anitra seem to have a lot of fun with that spell..." Blake remarked by way of explanation. "And I was getting a bit tired of casting it all the time. So I had an artificier imbue it into that ring, along with another spell from the book. Anyone who puts it on will gain an extra dick - one that is permanently engorged and extra-sensitive."

A light touch to the throbbing rod between her legs certainly confirmed the second part, and she had to swiftly repress the urge to start pumping it with her own hands. Blake chuckled as he noticed the slight shiver running through her. "Well, I'm sure Anitra will find all kinds of amusing uses for it, when she has more time. For now, though, you hold on to it. From what Anitra's told me, Direza's expressed a certain... interest in expanding her experiences when it comes to dicks. You should help her with that, when you've got the time. Just, y'know, give her a good pounding once or twice a day - wouldn't want her to feel neglected while Anitra's busy, would we?" A smile curled his reptilian lips. "In fact... tomorrow, I want you to ram her whenever you have a spare moment. In her bed, over the table, up against the wall while you're cleaning... just, y'know, whenever. I'll be dissolving that spell on her that afternoon, and Anitra mentioned something about wanting her to be 'nice and primed' when it's dropped. And, preferably, impaled on something hot and hard."

Melora nodded eagerly, and not just because it promised to be a pleasurable experience for her. She wasn't sure what, exactly, had happened to Direza while she and Lady Anitra was in that temple, but she could tell it had been rough. So helping her friend attain one of those mind-blowing climaxes that the elf always seemed to get after a period of orgasm-denial was something she was only too happy to do. Then her Lord and Master grinned even broader, his eyes narrowing as he looked down on her. "...mind, you're not going to have all THAT much time to play 'hide the horse-meat' with Direza. Since my Anitra will be busy for at least the next several days, possibly even a week or more at this rate, I suppose I will need to make my own entertainment... and I've come up with a suitable diversion."

A familiar thrill ran up Melora's spine, even as the cold sweat began to bead her forehead. Her Master had plans for her... something that never failed to arouse simultaneous surged of fear and lust. Both only deepened when he licked his lips as if savoring the taste of his words. "See, I've been wondering for a while, now... you certainly seem to enjoy it when I pound one of your holes. Basic pleasure, yes? But you also enjoy it when I torture you, with spikes, ice, lightning... whatever. Pain hits you in the same way. And when they're combined, well, that seems to be when you're the happiest. So, I've decided to satisfy my curiosity by finding the exact mid-point. The ideal mixture of pleasure and pain. The point where neither is dominant but they instead come together into something else. Something... greater. I've heard about this phenomenon from Anitra, though of course, the mix will need to be different for you."

As Blake loomed over her, eyes focused unerringly on her, the fear faded and desire seemed to course through her entire body, as if her blood had turned into liquid lust. "Well, I'm sure it will take a lot of... experimentation and trials to find that point." he continued "But now that I've had the idea, I have no intention of stopping until I've satisfied my curiosity. I'll take you to whole new levels of ecstasy, my dear. Perhaps so much that it breaks your mind." It took her a moment to find the breath to reply. "My body... is yours, as always, my Lord. As is my mind, and my soul. Please... use them all, as you see fit." The black dragon that loomed above her, his cock already emerging from its sheath, nodded. "Heh... that's my girl."

THE END

Do not miss the next chapter, where mysteries will be revealed and questions answered... deep within the Mists of The Past.