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The Beastmaker's Diplomacy

_ MOUNTAIN _

The mountains, standing like an immense wall, could be glimpsed through the boughs of the jungle-trees, here and there. She could tell they were getting closer. The environment was changing, bit by bit - the trees were growing bigger, with more space between them, and vast networks of roots extended from their bases in spiderweb-like patterns. Between those roots, the ground was growing more spongy and muddy, too - the jungle was turning into a rainforest, and seemed to be heading in the general direction of outright marshlands. The many snaking roots and the muddy ground made for a rather tough environment to traverse - or at least, that would have been the case for most travelers.

Her constructs, her 'Beasts', walked through it as easily as they walked through everything. If anything, it was easier going than what they'd coped with earlier - the undergrowth had thinned out, and could largely be stomped flat or pushed through instead of having to be _cut_through. Only the seemingly-endless coils of loose-hanging vines presented any real impediment, and never for long. Ori, meanwhile, was gliding through the tree-crowns as easily as ever, occasionally taking to the air for a quick scouting-flight. He never strayed far from her side, though. By unspoken agreement, they were all being very, very careful...

Her Elite Beasts, the Iron Guard, were arrayed around her - not merely in a wedge, but in a full circle, ready to intercept attacks from any angle (while Ori, of course, handled the last possible avenue of attack - 'from above'.) Lutra, who had dozed against Sayn's back as they rode through the earlier jungle, was now fully alert and scanning the surrounding environment with all of her inhumanly-sharp senses. On some level, she suspected that they'd all have been on edge even if they were heading into this area blind - it just had an ominous air, born from the seeming shortage of life. There were few animals visible in the teeming jungle, big or small. Even the birds were rare and silent.

But of course, they weren't going in blind. The accounts they'd heard among the Muhuru-Ngoubou may have been biased and exaggerated, but even so it was clear that they were heading towards the lair of a large group of intelligent, organized, and _really big_predators. Sayn's trio of jungle-scouts were earning their keep, too - two of them were keeping pace with her, ahead and to the sides, so as to provide early warning of any potential threats. The last one - the third she made, the most stealthy and speedy of the lot (as long as the vegetation remained reasonably dense, anyway) was ranging ahead, searching for any sign of the natives, any structure or sign of recent passage. They didn't really have anything more than a vague direction to go on, after all.

Rather than the construct scouting ahead, however, it was one of the forwards sentinels which first got a bite. As it moved stealthily through the trees, it caught a grisly sight that immediately drew Sayn's full attention. At the foot of a huge tree-trunk, a fallen beast lay - resembling somewhat a mixture between a wild boar and a bull, with size closer to the later, if not bigger. Its blood and entrails were scattered around the tree's roots by a towering terror - a bipedal monstrosity with a pair of tiny, vestigial-looking arms, and a huge, predatory head filled with large, serrated teeth. With its long, thick tail held straight back for balance, it was bending over its grisly feast, tearing lumps of bloody flesh from the fallen bull-boar, while around its large, three-clawed feet, a squabbling herd of tiny, chicken-sized reptiles clustered hungrily, arms and heads decorated with colorful feather and mouths filled with tiny, needle-sharp teeth. They seemed to be biding their time, waiting for their larger brethren to finish his feast so that they could clean the bones - though some of the braver specimens were managing to steal bits of gore and intestine that had bounced far enough from the monstrous, slavering jaws to be safely collected.

Much as her instincts were screaming to run as far away from this horrifying sight as possible, she had a job to do. So her little convoy changed its heading towards the site, but also slowed down as her scout continued to keep watch. Soon, they stopped entirely, hidden from the ravening monster by a handful of trees, and waited. If they were going to approach an immense predator, whose knees she'd just about be able to reach if she was on foot, they were going to do it after it had finished eating, and hopefully sated its hunger.

Thanks to the size of the creature's jaws and teeth, it didn't take long - even the huge carcass was swiftly devoured. Once the monster finally raised its gore-covered maw, the tiny critters who had been dancing around its feet eagerly dashed in, eager to grab whatever shreds of meat still clung to the bones, and anything that had fallen between the thick tree-roots and thus beyond their bigger cousin's reach. It was now or never. With Ori concealed in a nearby tree, two scouts maintaining a multidirectional vigil, and her Elite Beasts drawn into a tight phalanx around her, she marched forwards, and saw the beast with her own eyes at last - even as it saw her.

She was equal parts relieved and surprised when it didn't immediately charge at her with a roar, shaking the jungle with every footfall. Instead, it froze in place, turning its hefty head to gaze at her with a pair of small, beady eyes. The smaller critters, meanwhile, entirely ignored her - or, more likely, hadn't noticed her at all, so busy were they with their feast. As she slowly approached the beast, feeling far less safe behind the steel-armored wall of the Elite Beasts than she usually did, she could feel Lutra shivering as she clung to her back. Presumably, the normally-courageous Beastkin had some far stronger instinctive reactions to the presence of a huge, blood-reeking predator than she herself did...

She'd spent some time deciding what she'd say when she finally met a member of the infamous Sharptooth Tribes, but ultimately, she'd been forced to go basic - VERY basic. She couldn't risk using any information, including names and terminology, that she had obtained from the Muhuru-Ngoubou. If the enmity between the two factions was mutual, a single word could identify her as an ally of theirs, and draw immediate hostility. She couldn't afford that. So what she called as she cautiously approached the towering Sirrush predator was a rather lame "Greetings and well met!"

The beast blinked slowly, then bobbed its head before answering in a deep, rumbling voice. "Greeting you. Am Bataar, of Big Fang Tribe. Have not know your Tribe before. Who you?" Sayn winced slightly. Clearly, the amulet was having a hard time handling this language, but with a bit of focus, she could manage to parse the meaning. "Am... ahem. I am Sayn, of the Human Tribe. I have come to talk about trade and cooperation. I would like to meet your leaders." The 'Big Fang' blinked slowly again, and seemed to consider this. Prosus, back in Mokele, had told her that the bigger 'tribes' amongst the Muhuru-Ngoubou tended to be slow and plodding thinkers - and from the look of things, this was a general trait across all Sirrush.

Finally, the huge head nodded again. "Not know of 'trade'. But Elders often speak of unity and together-work. Maybe they like speak with you." Having apparently said his piece, he then turned his attention back to the carcass on the ground, where the tiny Sirrush were finishing their feast. After waiting a couple of minutes, she hesitantly raised her voice again. "Ehm... I do not know where your... Elders are. Could you show me the way?" The huge, fang-lined head swiveled to stare at her again for a moment, then it reverted to the grisly pile of bones, and the streamlined shoulders beneath shrugged. "Am back to village after. You follow if want."

It wasn't clear after what, exactly, but there was nothing for it but to wait. Or, at least, it beat blundering on through the jungle, and risking a run-in with a hungrier, less chatty Sharptooth. Not that they wound up having to wait for very long, fortunately - once the gaggle of tiny Sirrush had finished reducing the previously-gory carcass to a pile of gleaming, licked-clean ivory and chased down every stray chunk of meat and offal, they began to drag the bones towards Bataar. Laboring with impressive coordination (albeit with lots of high-pitched orders and insults flying between them), they loaded the bones into a pair of woven vine-nets attached to a harness on Bataar's back that she hadn't previously noticed - it blended into the towering beast's mottled-green hide remarkably well, and the huge, fang-lined maw above did a fine job of drawing your attention away from the rest of the body. Once all the bones were secured in the nets, Bataar nodded down at them, turned around, and set off through the jungle at a good clip. The smaller creatures proved capable of keeping up, though, their short legs blurring as they dashed over tree-roots and through undergrowth beside him.

It rather seemed like they had completely forgotten about Sayn and her team again, which made her feel a bit... deflated. She was growing accustomed to a variety of reactions from those she met - fear, respect, religious awe, hatred... but a complete lack of concern? That was a new one. Nonetheless, it suited her purposes just fine - her beasts easily kept up with the mismatched pack of Sirrush, and she once again spread her scouts out to alert her of anything approaching from the corners. The scout she'd sent ahead, meanwhile, she redirected based on their current heading, hoping to spot the Sharptooth Tribes' village before she reached it so that she could fish around for potentially-useful information ahead of her meeting with these 'Elders'.

While keeping half an eye on the feed from her scouts, she considered the discussions she'd had with Ori and Lutra on the trip to this part of the jungle. Well, mostly with Ori - Lutra's experience from back home was largely useless here, in these strange and foreign lands, but Orichaniel's keen intellect and sharp, political instincts were another matter... and besides, the Sirrush probably looked less strange to him than humans did. It was he who had pointed out that reports from Centaur who had survived Sirrush-attacks had specifically mentioned the attackers being armed, albeit primitively. They had all seen Muhuru-Ngoubou warriors and guards wielding strange and primitive, yet deadly-looking weapons - broad sticks studded with razor-sharp stone discs. Nothing they had heard of the Sharptooth Tribes, meanwhile, hinted at them needing anything but their own fangs and claws. So, if they indeed proved not to be weapon-users, well, that would effectively confirm Prorsus' story - and also suggest that Maastrich was either a lot less sophisticated in his deceptions than he liked to believe, or that he didn't have anyone he could trust with such chicanery in any of the more natural-weapon-gifted Tribes. Either way, what Sharpteeth she'd met so far certainly hadn't been carrying weapons - she'd need to see their villages before she could really say for sure, though.

It proved to be a bit of a trip, though with her guides' swift pace it didn't take too long. For the same reason, however, her scout arrived only a short way ahead of them, leaving her with too little time to get any more than a cursory look at the Muhuru-Ngoubou's dread rivals. The Sharptooth Tribes, as it turned out, were living even more primitively than their herbivorous cousins, in simple huts and shelters built around a natural wellspring in the foothills of the mountains. There were no signs of clothes amongst the varied Tribes that could be seen walking amongst the huts - not even the simple, if colorful, fabrics that the bipedal Muhuru-Ngoubou favored. Instead, some were seen wearing carrying-harnesses similar to Bataar's, with woven baskets, nets or leather pouches attached, while others wore nothing but colorful body-paint (or possibly elaborate tattoos, it was hard to tell). Nor were there any signs of warriors carrying weapons, even the most primitive - just about putting the final nail in Maastrich's claims.

Shortly after, she rode into the village in person, following closely behind Bataar, and receiving any number of curious - if not outright hungry - looks from the locals. The gaggle of tiny scavengers who had been keeping pace with them had peeled off before they entered the village proper, and a quick glance through the eyes of a scout in a nearby tree confirmed that they were making for a part of the village where the huts were significantly smaller - apparently, much like the Muhuru-Ngoubou, their population was somewhat divided by scale. Overall, though, she found the size of the Sharptooth Sirrush somewhat less intimidating. Bataar (whose tribe presumably lived in another area, with _bigger_huts) aside, the creatures walking the paths of this village were a lot closer to her own size than most of the Muhuru-Ngoubou had been, with several short enough that she could've looked them in the face had she been on foot.

They were also far more homogeneous than the Muhuru-Ngoubou had been, she belatedly noticed - at least in terms of basic body-shape. There were still a fair amount of variety - differently-shaped heads, the occasional frill or crest, needle-sharp teeth or serrated scimitars - but they were all built according to a similar template. There were nothing like the Great Shield Tribe's massive tortoises, or the Three-Horns' solid quadruped body - never mind the long-necked titans of the bigger herbivore tribes. From chicken-sized to towering monstrosities, all followed the same basic layout. Had she come here first, it would not have struck her as at all odd - but after the seeing the incredible variety of Mokele's citizens, it seemed a strange situation indeed.

For now, though, she had to prepare herself for a round of high-tension diplomacy. Bataar's long strides led them to a long hut, in front of which an outdoor fireplace with a simply roof stood smoking. On top of the fire was a primitive cauldron carved from a solid slab of what looked like soapstone, filled with a bubbling, porridge-like substance. A human-sized Sirrush with a colorful feathered headdress was stirring it energetically with a gnarled pole, and next to her another, similarly-adorned specimen was working a quern-stone. Seeing it gave Sayn a surprised pang of nostalgia. The simple tool was little more than a hand-cranked millstone, and far inferior to grist-mills powered by wind, water or tethered animals. However, in the nomadic culture of her childhood, the portability had been more important than efficiency, providing a niche for the otherwise outdated tool. The quern-stone being used by the large reptile before her was obviously of a far more primitive construction than the one she dimly remembered her mother working, turning wild grains into rough flour for equally-rough bread - but it was still undeniably the same basic instrument, and not something she'd ever expected to see again.

Her nostalgia, however, turned to automatic revulsion when Bataar dropped off his harnessed carrying-nets - and thus their bony bounty - in front of the milling Sirrush, prompting a smile of recognition. "Thank you as always, Bataar! Those'll make good porridge..." The voice was light and feminine, and quite a bit more articulated than Bataar's had been. Her arms were also longer and more dextrous, enabling her to easily grab a few of the smaller pieces of bone from the nets, throwing them into the grist-mill. Of course, on reflection it was clear that a tribe made up entirely of carnivorous predators would have no need for grains or flour... but seeing an instrument from her childhood being used to make bone-meal for, apparently, some kind of bone-based porridge nonetheless made her stomach turn.

Still, one good thing about dealing with politicians and courtiers on a daily basis was that you quickly learned how to smile through the nausea. So she put on her most diplomatic face, and approached the two (presumably female) Sirrush, even as Bataar stomped off towards the edge of the village. The two of them momentarily paused in their labors to look her up and down, looking rather bemused at the sight, and she politely inclined her head. "Greetings. I am Sayn of the Human Tribe. I seek your Elders, so that we may speak of... matters of importance." That seemed a nice, generic term to use, especially since these people apparently didn't have a concept of trade.

The two of them exchanged a look, then shrugged in unison. Finally, the one who'd been stirring the pot spoke up. "Well, greetings to you too, Human Sayn. I am Leshay, and this is Temarkay - we are sisters of the Swift-Claw Tribe, and Village Cooks. As for the elders..." She lifted the stirring-rod, clumped with the unspeakable porridge, and pointed up the incline of one of the neighboring foothills, where a few huts clung on despite the angled surface. "You will find them in the uppermost hut. They like the view up there." Then she stuck the rod back into the pot, and resumed her stirring. Her sister - Temarkay - had taken advantage of the break to load some more lumps of bone into her quern-stone, and now glanced up at Sayn, letting her eyes pan over the two Elite Beasts that she'd decided to bring along as an 'honor-guard', leaving the rest of the pack at the village borders so as not to provoke the locals. "Do be polite..." the Swift-Claw dryly commented, nodding at the two beasts without much apparent concern. "The Elders may be a bit toothless and dull-clawed, but if they sound off, all the big boys will be there in a wink." Then she flashed Sayn a disturbingly fang-filled grin, and started spinning up her quern again.

Well, it wasn't as if Sayn had any intention of being anything less than perfectly diplomatic in the first place, but the thread of being faced with 'all' of the 'big boys' - presumably meaning members of the larger tribes, like Bataar's Big Fang Tribe - certainly was intimidating. Her pair of armored bodyguards could probably trip up ONE such monster and cover her retreat, if necessary - but probably not however many 'all of them' were. This thought instinctively drew her eyes back over her shoulder to Ori, who was acting as the rear guard in their little formation, and represented her last-resort escape-option. One that would entail leaving Lutra behind - though, considering the fact that the stream running through the village quickly grew into a proper river as it descended the hillside, she would have a decent chance to flee on her own, if only she could make it to the water...

Those depressing calculations, however, were interrupted when she noticed the glances being thrown by locals passing by. She and Lutra were getting a fair number of curious, bemused, and even hungry looks, as she'd previously noticed - but only now did she realize that Ori was getting some rather different looks. Perhaps because of his somewhat reptilian aspect, the gazes of the Sirrush seemed far from hostile - if anything, they seemed intrigued, or... another kind of hungry. A passerby who seemed to be of the Swift-Claw Tribe - or at least similar in size - paused to look at him for a while, turning their head sideways in a thoughtful manner, even running their tongue across their teeth in a way that seemed unabashedly lustful. This particular specimen was covered in elaborate body-paint, featuring a pattern that covered most of her body and seemed to draw the eye towards the long, slender tail. Ori, who was doing his best to be watchful, noticed too, and returned the penetrating stare with one of slightly-nervous uncertainty. A few moments later, the strange Sirrush shrugged and walked away, proceeding along the path.

Shaking off the confusion and uncertainty, Sayn quickly gave a polite nod to the two cooks, and guided her riding-beast and honor-guard in the direction they had indicated. Her nearby scouts, meanwhile, were focusing their search - made difficult by the rather disorganized layout of the village. Mokele, for all its primitive construction, had been laid out with a great deal of care, with residential neighborhoods, storage-huts and workshops all being situated with forethought, and straight, well-used streets between them. This village, meanwhile, was completely chaotic - it seemed as if the natives had simply erected their huts wherever they felt like it, leaving the village to grow in the manner of a cluster of mushrooms. There were no streets to speak of, save a large, central thoroughfare that went past the cooking-hut she'd just visited - presumably there specifically to let the larger tribes drop off the remnants of their kills. Beyond that, it was all just a disorienting network of muddy paths and narrow alleyways that often ended in the back wall of somebody's hut.

With her scout's rooftop vantage, however, she was able to locate a long, slightly-sturdier-looking hut near the crest of the hillside - the probably home of the Elders - and a winding, meandering path that would take her there. Not long after she had started the climb, however, a distraction appeared to delay them further - heralded by an astounded gasp from Lutra, who had been busy ogling the strange natives. Sayn didn't need to ask the Otterkin what she was looking at - her own eyes were drawn towards the same spot by the vigorous movement occurring there. By the side of the path, leaned against the creaking side-wall of a hut, was the painted Swift-Claw she'd spotted earlier staring at Ori - and behind her, someone from another, somewhat larger tribe. The Swift-Claws were basically human-sized, which - considering the mostly horizontal aspect of their bodies - meant that they'd be face-to-chest with an average man, and that even Sayn would stand a head higher than them on bare feet. This other one, on the other hand, was tall enough to look a man in the face, providing an overall body-size similar to a small horse or large pony.

From their current vantage, they could also see that the Swift-Claw was female, and that this larger newcomer was male. This was made obvious from the way he was railing the smaller Sirrush against the hut-wall, clutching her tail and thrusting his powerful hips. His cock, clearly visible from behind as it plunged in and out of the smaller Swift-Claw's tight orifice, seemed to be generously textured. The bottom of the shaft - which bulged noticeably, creating an area of significant girth - was lined with overlapping plates of spongy-looking tissue, split down the middle by a highly distinctive urethral tube. The top, while overall smoother, was covered in little bumps that started out shallow and grew bigger and more noticeable towards the base. The head, which peeked out from the lubricated folds of the Swift-Claw's hungry hole on the longer out-strokes, seemed to have at least a couple of ribbed ridges as well. Considering all that, and the sheer size of the tool relative to her body, it was really no surprise that the Swift-Claw female was moaning so loudly, tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. Sayn was pretty sure she'd be making a similar face - and similar noises - if she was on the receiving end of such a treatment.

Of course, while the pleasure that the female was obviously deriving from this vigorous mating was perfectly understandable, the surprising bit was that it was all happening completely in the open. Not technically in the middle of the street, since the lovers had at least pulled to the side of it so as to be out of the way, but still. Something more distant from the Muhuru-Ngoubou's strong privacy-taboos was hard to imagine. Other Sirrush passing by seemed, in fact, to be far more annoyed with needing to make their way past Sayn's paused group than with the loud display of lovemaking on the other side of the path. In spite of this, however, she couldn't bring herself to move forwards. She was transfixed by the sight, face flushed, a wet spot already forming on the crotch of her tailor-made trousers. Next to her ear she could hear Lutra breathing heavily, and against her back she could feel a pair of rock-hard nipples poking through the slick fur that covered the Otterkin's chest.

Finding a sexual thrill in voyeurism wasn't anything new to her - especially since meeting the mermaid, Aishee, who outright preferred watching to actively participating. But engaging in various perverted acts within the privacy of her own Seraglio, with only the eyes of trusted friends and lovers to see it, was worlds apart from what was going on here. This Sirrush girl was getting fucked hard and fast by the roadside, where any random stranger walking by could see and hear her. The possibility of such a thing had never occurred to Sayn, and now that it had so dramatically revealed itself before her, she found her arousal skyrocketing in short order.

However much she wanted to join in, though - or maybe just follow suit and let Lutra, who seemed equally aroused, have her way with her right there in the streets - there was a coolly logical part of her that was somehow managing to stay above the rising tides of lust. It politely but firmly reminded her that she had little to no information about the circumstances at work here. Maybe the Sharptooth Tribes just had no sexual taboos whatsoever and readily mated anywhere, anytime - or maybe there just were some specific conditions under which it was acceptable. Maybe it was a privilege bestowed by a particular rank within the tribes, as a way to demonstrate that they were above the law, and for anyone else to do so was a severe crime punished by immediate devouring. Or maybe it was only acceptable for certain tribes. Point was, she had no way of knowing at this time.

Which meant that she needed to stop her hands from sneaking down to her crotch, and ideally get her little convoy moving again! But damn, it was hard to leave that show behind. From the looks of things, the big male had more than just size and an impressively-textured cock on his side, too - to Sayn's experienced eye, it seemed that he was genuinely skillful, using long thrusts without ever slipping out, and occasionally mixing things up with short bursts of short, rapid strokes that sent the Swift-Claw female into eye-rolling orgasmic convulsions. Well, if this kind of behavior WAS common, and not restricted in some way, it probably followed naturally that the males developed significant skill simply due to the vast amounts of experience they could accumulate in short order...

Near-hypnotized by the vivid display as she were, it took her a minute to realize that she and her retinue weren't actually the only ones who had stopped. Another Sirrush, somewhere between the Swift-Claw and the larger male in size and sporting two impressive crests on its head - straight from nostrils to neck - had also paused, and was looking at the conjoined lovers with interest. This newcomer's gender was made clear when a bulge between his legs opened to let the bright-red tip of a gently-rounded cockhead peek out. Approaching the couple, he ignored the laboring male and simply stroked his crested head along the female's flanks to draw her attention. As her bleary eyes focused on him, he flashed her a fang-filled grin. "Mind if I go next?" he asked in a remarkably straightforward way. She nodded without hesitation, moaning her answer. "Suuure... mmm... please do..."

Needless to say, this did not make it easier for Sayn to tear herself away from the show. Despite knowing that she was only tormenting herself with surging, unreleased desire, she lingered long enough for the first male to reach his climax, groaning loudly as he drove his huge cock into the pliable female right to the hilt. After shuddering for a minute, he sighed and stepped back, pulling his rapidly-shrinking, dripping-wet shaft out and relinquishing his tight grip on the Swift-Claw's upraised tail. She remained where she was, leaned against a rough wall made from woven branches and vines, making no motion to lower said tail and thus providing a perfect view of her gaping, cum-dripping pussy as the male stepped away and continued down the street with a quick, polite nod for the female, never even saying a word. Something about the sight made Sayn blink - there was a subtle sense of wrongness that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was just the fact that the Sirrush seemed to have a far more circular orifice than those she was used to? Less slit-like. Well, that didn't make it look any more inviting, really...

The male with the head-crests, having politely waited his turn, wasted no more time - he quickly jumped on her now-empty back, grabbing her tail the same way the previous visitor had done. He didn't loom over her to quite the same degree, but he was still a bit bigger, and the cock that was now emerging fully from its sheath and plunging into the already well-used hole between her legs was every bit as impressive. A pair of broad, overlapping ridges could be seen just beneath the surprisingly human-like head, clustered around yet another remarkably-thick cum-tube, and further down the shaft bulged widely in a vague approximation of a knot. Did those sizable tubes, running the length of the shaft, suggest that the Sharptooth Sirrush emitted unusual quantities of cum? She'd certainly like to believe so, and the gooey condition of the Swift-Claw female's hungry hole seemed to support it.

However, even as the second male began to thrust in earnest, prompting more lustful moans from the female, she finally found the resolution to turn away. If she kept watching, her desires would eventually overwhelm her reason, and she'd wind up doing something tremendously stupid. So she gritted her teeth and turned her head forwards, making her best efforts to ignore both the sounds of vigorous, sloppy sex and the growing wet patch on her pants. Somewhat hesitantly, the two Elite Beasts broke into a shuffling walk, and her riding-beast followed suit. She could feel Lutra turning her head behind her, still watching, and wondered if Ori was doing the same. Had he reached the same conclusion as she had, about the intent behind that painted female's earlier interest in him?

It was a short trip from where they'd paused, and to the door of the long hut that she presumed to be the seat of the Elders. Almost too short for her to regain her equilibrium - lurid images and lustful thoughts were still bouncing around inside her skull. But she had a job to do, and she intended to do it - even if all she wanted to do was find someone who could fuck her silly. Taking a deep breath, she climbed down from her riding-beast alongside Lutra, who seemed to be at least as heavily affected by the recent show as her - but she wasn't expected to do anything other than hang around in the background like a proper lady-in-waiting, the lucky beast. Ori appeared on her other flank, looking more centered than either of them, though she caught him throwing a covert look back towards the area where they'd seen the vivacious display.

Leaving her two Elite Beasts parked outside next to her golden steed, she stepped towards the doorless entrance to the hut, rising nervousness finally starting to displace her lustful thoughts. Not knocking before entering seemed... wrong, especially if this really was the seat of the local rulers, but there really wasn't much to knock on - so she settled for calling out a clear "Excuse me..." as she crossed the threshold. Inside, the light was dim, but she could easily make out a trio of Sirrush - not too different from the Swift-Claws she'd encountered earlier - sitting in nest-like beds of thatch and straw. All three looked up at her words, pausing what they were doing - some kind of herbalism, from the looks of it, involving lots of chewed-up plants.

"Oh? We've got an unusual visitor, it seems..." said the central of the three Elders in a voice that sounded like crackling parchment. The two others nodded, eyes bright and sharp despite their status as Elders. Indeed, as her own eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she started seeing the clear signs of advanced age, recognizable even on such foreign bodies. Their leathery hide looked dry and wrinkled, and the mottled patterns of greens and browns that she had seen on other members of their kind were faded and gray. The fangs lining their long maws were yellowed and ragged, with several noticeable gaps, and the large claws crowning their feet, pulled up alongside their bodies as they rested, looked dull and fragile.

Careful not to stare, Sayn made a respectful nod. "I am Sayn, Chief of the Human-Tribe. I have matters I would like to discuss with you - assuming you are, indeed, the leaders of your kind?" A hoarse laugh answered her, while the Sirrush on the right put down the wooden mortar she'd been working on and replied. "Hah! As much as anyone can be said to lead this bunch of boneheads, yes, I guess that would be us. Greetings and well met, and all that rot! Have a seat, if you like - walking around all tall like that looks exhausting!" There wasn't really anything to sit on, other than the three occupied 'nests', but Sayn and Lutra sank down on the floor with a mutual shrug. 'Furniture' appeared to be another thing that the Sharptooth Tribes, unlike their Muhuru-Ngoubou cousins, had yet to invent.

As concisely as she could, she laid out her current problem for the three Elders, whose amusement rapidly faded and was replaced by keen focus as her story went on: Allied 'Centaur-tribe' prospectors attacked in the jungle while collecting wood for construction, Muhuru-Ngoubou blamed them, but she wanted to hear their side before making any decisions. She neglected to mention that she already had the confession of Chief Maastrich's son that his father most likely was behind the attacks, and was attempting to incite a war between them and her allies - she rather wanted to see how they'd react to the allegations first. After all, just because Maastrich had sent soldiers to attack the Centaurs, didn't mean that ALL of the incidents had been caused by him...

The Elder on the left was nodding eagerly towards the end, and as soon as Sayn grew silent, she turned to the other two and practically screeched "I knew it! Didn't I tell you we were right to be cautious, hmm? Didn't I specifically counsel for waiting until we learned more about these newcomers, eh? Eh?" The central Elder sighed and rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Yes, you did, emphatically at that. And we both agreed with you, as you might also recall." Then she fixed Sayn with a piercing glare. "You were wise not to simply take those damned leaf-eaters on their word. Some of our hunters reported seeing these... 'Centaurs' of your. Four legs and two arms - very strange! But they also reported seeing them fight off some of the beasts who life on the northern plains, using odd weapons that throw sticks with great force. So while some of the young'uns were eager to start hunting this new source of meat, we cautioned restraint. Told 'em that it would be too dangerous, that we should wait until we knew more. If any of our tribesmen struck at them regardless, they did so against our advice - and will suffer whatever consequences you deem suitable for their trespass."

The last bit caught Sayn somewhat off-guard, but she quickly hid it, and admitted that she had 'some information' suggesting that the attacks may have been staged by elements 'within the Muhuru-Ngoubou' in order to draw the Centaurs into the conflict between them and the Sharptooth Tribes. All three Elders nodded along with that. "Oh, I can believe THAT easily enough!" one of them barked. "Those leaf-eaters always were entirely too clever for their own good - and everybody else's, for that matter!" Unsurprisingly, it didn't take much prompting for the Elders to provide her with THEIR side of the story about how the two groups had been split up originally - albeit in a less forceful, more meandering way than what Maastrich had delivered, with the central Elder taking the lead and the other two occasionally interjecting with corrections, reminders, and additional details.

The gist of it was that originally, the Sirrush had been one Tribe, living in harmony with the jungle that was their home, under the watchful eyes of the Gods. Then the Gods had grown bored with them and wandered off, something that the Sharptooths seemed - if possible - even more unconcerned with than the Muhuru-Ngoubou. However, once the Gods were gone, an ambitious Three-Horn had rallied other 'Leaf-eaters' around him, proposing that rather than let their numbers grow with the bounty of nature and shrink with the lean times, they could impose their will on the land and live a life of plenty. Their Shamans had gone to the Mountain and returned with wisdom - ways to make plants grow as a Sirrush willed it, rather than as nature intended. (Farming, in other words.) The Leaf-Eaters had begun to clear large areas of jungle, laying down fields, and using the resulting bounty to feed scores of new hatchlings - for whom more fields would soon need to be carved from the verdant jungle they referred to as the 'Holy Green'.

The Elders of the Sharptooth Tribes at the time were concerned with this development, rightly worried that the continued, unchecked expansion of the herbivorous tribes would eventually see the jungle leveled in its entirety - taking with it the true Sirrush way of life, AND the prey that the Sharptooth Tribes relied on to survive. Already, the Leaf-Eaters' clear-cutting of the jungle had made it harder to find food. Eventually, they reached a decision - as part of the jungle, and part of nature, it was their duty to act. To prevent the Leaf-Eaters' hubris from destroying everything... and to keep their ever-growing numbers down. And so, they turned on their erstwhile comrades, leading to all-out war.

"It's worked out nicely enough!" One of the Elders put in. "We can't really hit their settlements anymore - especially not since they built that crazy wall! - but we can stop them from expanding. They try to tear more holes in the jungle, well, we tear some holes in them instead!" The Elder on the other side, however, rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure, that's all well and good... but fact is, we need the meat! There isn't much prey to be had these days, even though we're being so careful not to over-hunt... and a nice, fat Thunderfoot or Longneck can feed half the tribe for a week or more! Even a Great-Crest or a Sharp-Thumb makes for a pretty solid meal."

Feeling a chill run up her spine at this casual reference to their willingness to prey on fellow thinking beings, she nonetheless filed away what they had said for future reference. The Elders, meanwhile, continued their chattering, bringing up and discarding various other potential food-sources with the well-practiced routine of someone who had debated the same issue countless times. Apparently, the jungle gradually degenerated into fens and swamplands to the south, where there was no sizable prey to be found - through the smallest tribes sometimes hunted there, for frogs and large insects, but it was an unhealthy area and they often returned with various fevers and infections that made every such trip a risky venture. Beyond the fens, it grew rapidly colder, and snow began to fall like on a mountaintop - there were great, furry beasts on those arctic plains, but it was too cold for any Sirrush to survive there for long. (A fact she already knew from her discussions with the Muhuru-Ngoubou.) Meanwhile, the western mountains were nigh-impassable and there was nothing but desert beyond them anyway, and the monsters of the northern plains were fierce enough to be dangerous prey even for the biggest Sharp-Tooth hunters - not that they had much edible meat on them anyway. Hunting there was an act of desperation.

So apparently, if she wanted to see the conflict between the two Sirrush factions to end, she'd both have to convince the Muhuru-Ngoubou to stop expanding - or at least, stop expanding at the expense of the verdant jungle - and secure a better source of meat for the hungry Sharptooth hunters. The later seemed liable to be a far simpler prospect than the former... perhaps it was possible to teach them animal husbandry, and turn them into herdsmen instead of hunters? Ah, but their strong, predatory scent would probably make that difficult... regardless, she had a more immediate priority. The story had, after all, revealed a point that seemed worth probing further.

"What was that about Shamans going to the Mountain?" she asked innocently, and without hesitation the Elders launched into another meandering story, laced with liberal amounts of mysticism. Apparently, within the 'Heart of the Mountain', there dwelt some kind of ancient oracle, left behind by the Gods to watch over the Sirrush. In ancient times, each Tribe had possessed a single Shaman, who understood the strange language of the oracle, and could go to the Mountain to seek wisdom and solutions to problems. "The way we build these nice huts, the way we turn useless bones into delicious porridge... all secrets passed down from a Shaman who went to the Mountain!" One of the Elders said, sounding awed.

"So... are _you_Shamans?" Sayn asked cautiously, and received a sad look in reply. "Nay. There are no Shamans anymore. Not since the war. After the fighting started, the leaf-eaters set a cowardly ambush on the path to the Mountain's Heart. All our Shamans went there together, to seek the counsel of the Mountain in ending the war, but instead they wound up dead - crushed under an avalanche, the survivors chased down and slain. The leaf-eaters had already learned powerful secrets from the Mountain, like how to turn common wood into a hard shell for their warriors, and how to craft the Hungry Wood - a stick that strikes more fiercely than any clubbed tail! They didn't want us to give us a chance to even the playing-field."

The Elder on the right shook her head morosely. "They all died before they could pass on the secret of the Mountain's Tongue. None among us still understand it. Sometimes, we still climb up there, though, to listen - even if we cannot comprehend." The Elder on the other side, meanwhile, made a nasty smile. "Of course, we control the access to the Mountain. The leaf-eaters - hah! They call themselves the Muhuru-Ngoubou now, and pretend that they 'threw us out' of their 'holy land'... just to make themselves feel better about the fact that they haven't been able to approach the Mountain since the conflict started. Back in the early days, there'd occasionally be an extra snack for some alert sentinel, as a foolish leaf-eating Shaman tried to sneak past. Not for a long time, though, and it has_been a _long time. I'd be surprised if anyone over there remember the ancient language of the Mountain either, at this point!"

Sayn had to concur - no-one in Mokele had mentioned anything about any Shamans, or anything about the Mountain. And if they still had some hope of communing with the mountain oracle, Maastrich probably would've mentioned it, just so he could twist it into further proof of the Sharptooth Tribes' awfulness. But if the issue was purely that of a linguistic barrier... perhaps her Amulet would work there, too? "I don't suppose strangers are welcome on your Holy Mountain, huh?" She asked somewhat lamely - but to her wide-eyed surprise, the central Elder (who seemed to be the highest authority around, often stepping in with the last word when the other two started bickering) just shrugged. "You want to see the Heart of the Mountain for yourself, eh? Well, it IS quite a sight... go ahead. If the Mountain wants to talk to you, it'll talk to you. If not, it won't."

That, of course, made her next step obvious. If there was some ancient being from before the Age of Gods dwelling in those mountains, she needed to see it. If she could communicate with it, perhaps it could provide her with an unbiased account of the local conflict... certainly, it seemed clear by now that if she wanted peaceful relations with either faction of Sirrush, without taking sides and becoming the enemy of the other faction, she'd need to resolve things at least to the point where they weren't at open war anymore.

But, she reflected, before she dashed off to go mountain-climbing, well... it would be rude of her to give the Sharptooth Tribes less of her time and attention than she had granted the Muhuru-Ngoubou. In other words, she needed to learn more about the local culture! Their social mores! And maybe their... sexual mores. Throughout the very interesting (and occasionally confusing) storytelling-session, the view she'd seen on the way had never really left her mind. It had merely been pushed aside for a time - and now that she'd gotten the really important stuff out of the way, it was reasserting itself.

The Elders, for their part, were obviously quite happy to have someone around who was willing to listen to them natter for hours on end, and they eagerly launched into a long-winded explanation of Sharptooth society when she asked. She quickly learned that, sure enough, they didn't really have a concept of trade - not even on the rather basic level the Muhuru-Ngoubou knew. They functioned on a purely communal level, with everybody helping each other out - on penalty of being told off by an Elder! Far from the regimented caste-system of their herbivorous cousins, anyone who displayed a particular talent or interest for a non-hunting activity, like pottery, hut-building and repair, herbalism or whatnot simply pursued it if they wanted to, and assuming they produced something useful, they got a share of the prey - which, granted, usually meant bone-porridge, but apparently that was considered a good thing. She also found out that there actually were tribes among them who didn't match the basic body-type she'd noticed as omnipresent earlier - in fact, there were a whole set of Tribes who were vastly different, possessing long, pointy beaks and broad, bat-like wings that enabled them to fly and hunt from the air. Their flying-skills weren't all THAT good, though, so they largely nested further up the mountainside, where they could more easily get air under their wings...

Eventually, though, she managed to guide the conversation around to the subject of sexual taboos. One of the Elders chuckled, pointing accusingly at her with one nasty-looking claw. "Funny thing to ask. What, you Human-Tribe people are like the leaf-eaters, are you? Hiding such a perfectly natural thing behind thick doors and windowless walls. Hah!" Sayn was forced to admit that, while her 'Tribe' maybe wasn't QUITE as regimented about it as the Muhuru-Ngoubou, they DID have a few... rules, concerning where and when you ought to have sex. But how, exactly, did it work here?

Finally, she had her answer - the key was in the body-paint, as it turned out. "Well, sort of... it all comes back to this, really!" the Elder on the right interjected, lifting a dusty, heart-shaped herb from a pile next to her mortar. "It prevents you from laying eggs, y'see. If we just bred nilly-willy, we'd soon be too many for the land to support us - and be left to watch out children starve! To prevent that, every female gets a monthly dose of this herb from the day she reaches maturity, so she can't produce eggs. Those who display particular skill, strength or wisdom, or otherwise show great talent, are granted the right to decline the herb and deliver a clutch of eggs with a mate of their choosing." The Elder casually tossed the herb into her mortar and set to work on it again as she kept talking. "But, well... when your body is telling you to lay eggs, but you can't lay eggs, it just never really_stops_ telling you to try... you know? They need to get it out of their system, in other words - on a regular basis. And THAT is what the paints are for..."

The body-paint, in other words, marked a female as interested in 'letting off steam' with any interested male who happened by. Apparently, since essentially every woman was on the herb - rendering casual liaisons consequence-free - few saw any reasons to establish serious, long-term relationships. "Well, there ARE a couple I can think of..." the Elder on the opposite side commented, nodding as she worked her pestle. "It's a bit strange, but it's no harm to anyone, so let 'em be, I say!" This was met with general consent from her peers. A rather progressive attitude towards those who broke the social norms, Sayn noted - and found herself suddenly remembering Korlin, and some surprising things she'd learned about Kirin society on a mountain-plateau in the middle of nowhere.

The Kirin, being nigh-immortal but also possessed of an extremely low birth-rate, had an extremely liberal attitude towards sex - at least, by most standards. According to Korlin, they freely mated with one another on a regular basis, even in the middle of the street - or, rather, by the side of the street, so as not to be in the way. In the odd case that someone got pregnant from it all, well, that was considered a great blessing, after all! How strange that the Kirin, regarded as the most philosophically advanced beings in the world, and these jungle-dwelling primitives, should arrive at essentially the same policy towards casual sex, entirely independent of one another... or perhaps it wasn't so strange at all, but merely hinted at something very deep and complicated concerning life, love and reality. Sayn, however, was no philosopher, so she merely filed the comparison for future recounting to her beloved Korlin - it'd be good for a laugh, or possibly a naughty story about Kirin perversions, she figured!

Fascination pushed these musings aside, however, as the Elders continued to explain - apparently, the patterns of the body-paint used to denote willingness to mate was more complex than as such! There were various patterns and components that could be combined in order to send a specific message. Like a pattern around the tail that specifically excused males from making conversation or asking permission, giving implicit consent to be mounted anytime, anywhere, by anyone who saw her. Or a pattern around the head that marked her as a practitioner of the oral arts - which was somewhat of an advanced study in a place where everyone was packing rows upon rows of razor-sharp chompers. It took real effort for a female to master the art of pleasuring a male with her lips and tongue without letting him fall afoul of her fangs - making it a pattern that had to be earned as well as chosen, since it told males that she was not merely willing to pleasure them with her mouth, but also could be counted upon to do so safely.

The one that really caught Sayn's attention, however, was a set of patterns rolling down the legs - used by the more adventurous - and ambitious - females. The general pattern only applied to males of the female's own tribe, and those similar in size - for obvious reasons. But the additional pattern marked someone as willing to play with larger tribes. Thus, such a female could find herself drawing the attention of a male twice her size or more - and handling that took both determination and a great deal of practice. "Used to be pretty rare... hardly anyone wore that pattern when I was young and spry!" One of the Elders mused, in a 'things-were-better-back-then' voice that could just as easily have come from any old-timer on the Northern Continent.

"But these days, it's become some sort of game! Foolish youngsters wear it and challenge each other to see who can handle the biggest male! And of course, it all ends in tears..." The Elder gripped her head sadly, shaking it at all the folly of youth. The Elder on the opposite site chuckled ruefully. "Oh, it does, it does... remember when Slira managed to handle a Spineback? She was walking bow-legged for a week! And then her foolish sister just HAD to one-up her... sibling rivalries, I swear..." The first Elder immediately nodded, picking up the thread of the story while the middle Elder contented herself with shaking her head in general disapproval. "Oh yes... she won that silly little contest, didn't she? When she managed to convince a Grand-Tooth to mount her! Can't blame him, the big boys aren't very bright, bless their hearts... but who had to sew her fractured cloaca back together again afterwards, chewing and spitting healing-herbs all the time to stop anything from getting infected, and what-have-you? ME! Took hours, it did - hours!"

The other Elder quickly nodded, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "Oh yes... excellent work, mind. Healed up nicely. Earned her a lifetime ban from getting THAT pattern, though!" Sayn, meanwhile, blinked rapidly. Cloaca? It had to be a word in her language - she could tell when the Amulet was leaving something untranslated because her tongue lacked an equivalent. But she didn't recognize it. It seemed to be used where she'd expected 'pussy'... though, of course, there were a lot of words for that particular orifice, running a gamut from the clinical to the rude. Maybe it was just another one? Still, a sense of uncertainty and awkwardness prevented her from asking - and also, by some instinct, from posing the question she'd been about to ask before they went off on a tangent. Namely, whether there was a pattern for 'down for anal'...

Instead, she asked a safer, more important question. "So... where do you _get_those body-paint patterns?" The central Elder gestured towards the other old women flanking her, and shrugged. "Well, WE do them - though there's also a couple of painters in the village, taking some of the load. It's us who tell 'em if someone is banned from getting a particular pattern, or has passed the examination for the Head-pattern, though." Sayn nodded, trying not to think about what an oral-sex-exam overseen by these three jolly old grandmothers would be like.

"So... could an outsider receive these patterns if she wanted, or..." she hesitantly asked, an awkward smile on her lips as she fidgeted. The rightmost Elder ran an assessing eye up and down her body, and shrugged. "Well, you're clearly wearing a false-hide, like some of those leaf-eaters do... assuming you've got some actual skin underneath it, I don't see why not. Might be a fun challenge to apply the usual patterns to such a different body!" Another Elder nodded. "The lack of tail might be the hardest part to account for, but I'm sure we could get it close enough that the menfolk will still recognize it! You'd be popular, too, being such an unusual sort..." The way they were acting, it was as if visiting dignitaries asking for 'free sex' body-paint was an everyday, perfectly natural occurrence. And in a sense, maybe it was - to them, this extremely liberal approach to sexuality was the norm, and she was simply conforming to it.

Lutra, meanwhile, had gotten pretty good at figuring out the gist of a conversation just from Sayn's word and the tone of the to-her-indecipherable Sirrush replies by now. Leaning over, she whispered heatedly in Sayn's ear, "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Seriously?" Sayn, though, just grinned at her and whispered back "I'm thinking of soaking up some local culture, is all." The Otterkin rolled her large, brown eyes, and hissed "Well, this time I'm sticking to you like a burr, and making sure you don't go overboard. I might not be able to speak or understand the local language, but I'm pretty sure I can make my intent understood if I need to." This sounded fairly sensible to Sayn who did, after all, have to admit that her last sexual encounter with a Sirrush had left her a bit... shook up. And shaken down. And just generally wobbly for a while.

Meanwhile, the Elders had apparently finished deciding how to best apply the traditional patterns to a humanoid frame, and one of them rose from her nest with a near-audible creaking, huffing as she staggered over to a corner of the room where several different baked clay pots and flasks stood side-by-side. As she scooped a number of them into her arms, occasionally sniffing at the contents and mumbling, the opposite-side Elder rose as well and collected a couple of broad bowls from a pile of dusty earthenware in another corner. (Someone really needed to introduce these people to cupboards - or at least_shelves_ - thought Sayn privately.) The central Elder, however, remained in her nest and continued working her mortar and pestle, chewing and spitting herbs and berries into whatever mix she was working on. Apparently, the painting would be left to the other two.

Despite having literally asked for this, Sayn felt more than a touch self-conscious as, prompted by a questioning look from two Elders - already in the middle of mixing up the paints - she began to strip. The elegant-yet-functional, luxurious-yet-understated set of trousers and shirt had already proven capable of surviving the rigors of travel while still making her look suitably splendid - she had to remember to send a thank-you note and maybe an extra reward to the tailor who had, unlike most of his peers, realized that her frequent diplomatic travels meant that opulent, over-complicated dresses of gold and lace weren't always a practical choice. Lutra took it off her hands, carefully folding the fine-yet-tough fabric and mumbling something about putting them away in her riding-beast's voluminous saddlebags - disappearing out the door even as Sayn stepped out of her boots and stood naked as the day she was born on the dusty, stamped-earth floor. Well, naked save for the Amulet that still hung on a chain around her neck... she had to keep that on her, at least!

One of the Elders looked up from a bowl of red paint she'd just finished mixing, and chuckled. "My, such pale coloration! It is no wonder you wear false-hides, looking like that - you would be visible through half a jungle, gleaming in the sunlight like that." She felt her already-flushed cheeks redden further at this backhanded compliment. She wasn't all THAT pale, really - by human standards. She usually got quite a bit of sun during the summer, cavorting with her consorts in the Seraglio's garden. But it was winter in the north right now, so she hadn't been doing that for a while, and she'd hardly had the time to work up a tan on her southern travels so far. Well, to a people garbed in so many variants of jungle-camouflage, probably any human would look strangely pale....

They didn't waste time on further critique of her skin-tone, fortunately, and instead went right to work as she stood stiffly between them, moving her arms and legs when they requested it. Their claws proved to be surprisingly flexible painting-tools, with the sides providing broad lines and the blunted tips providing thinner ones - the way they transitioned smoothly from one to the other with a steady twist of the wrist bespoke vast experience. A complex pattern of red, blue and yellow lines grew on her back, flanks and chest, and after a bit they took a step back to admire their work. "Not bad!" one of them commented, and the other nodded. "Well, that's the basic, anyway. Do you want any of the additional patterns?"

"Oh, yes. All of them, please." Sayn's answer came quick and breathless. A feeling of growing arousal was pushing back her embarrassment and nervousness. One of the Elders shrugged, commented "Fair enough..." and dipped her claw in the paint anew before starting in on Sayn's buttocks, extending the pattern down across them, tongue in the corner of her mouth as she worked to apply the traditional tail-paints to a much shorter, rounder surface. The other Elder, however, hesitated. "The head-pattern too? I mean... you haven't exactly passed the exam. I think I would remember that." Before Sayn could reply, however, the third Elder - who had been silently continuing her work while the other two painted - raised her voice, crackling with sarcasm. "Don't be a silly hen. Look at her mouth! She's barely got fangs to speak of. A male would be safer in her mouth than in that of most of our graduates, even if she has little to no experience..."

The protesting Elder winced, and took a closer look at Sayn's mouth while she flashed the elderly Sirrush a bright, tooth-filled smile. "Buncha' squares, huh? Leaf-eating teeth..." the Elder commented with barely-hid distaste, then shrugged it off. "Fair enough, I guess that makes sense..." "Actually, my Tribe eats both plants AND meat..." Sayn hurriedly interjected, but the Elder just clicked her tongue and lifted a paint-splattered claw to her face. "No talking. Keep your face still. Applying the pattern to such a flat thing is going to be a challenge as it is!" Sayn obeyed, but found it intensely difficult not to crack a smile when, from behind her, she heard the other Elder interject. "Ahh, quit complaining. Or d'ya wanna trade places?" She did not, apparently, and the two Elders finished their artwork in silence, with a winding pattern down the length of her legs being the final touch.

One they were done, she was covered in an intricate pattern of colorful, interweaving lines of paint, literally from head to toe. About the only place left bare was, oddly enough, her belly - an area which was, after all, rarely seen on a Sharp-Tooth Sirrush due to their gait and body-shape. Of course, that actually drew the eye towards it in her case, and she was once again happy that she had devoted some of her limited energy towards maintaining a healthy diet (as proscribed by Korlin) and a regular regimen of exercise (not ALL of it sexual), rather than letting her new-found life of leisure take over and turn her body pudgy and weak. Well, not that these Sirrush were likely to know the difference between a fit and an overweight human... but it made her feel a bit less self-conscious about her nakedness, at least.

She bid a respectful farewell to the Sharptooth matriarchs, telling them that she would return once she'd, ah, 'soaked up the local color' and gone on a pilgrimage to the Mountain, in that order. They just nodded and went back to their work. Ori, who had watched the whole thing dispassionately, followed her outside where Lutra was waiting next to the riding-beast. The Otterkin slowly looked Sayn over, from her bare feet on up, and quirked an eyebrow. "Classy. You really look the barbarian princess. Sayn, Queen of the Jungle! All you need is a fur bikini." There was only one possible reply to this, namely sticking her tongue out at her oh-so-funny consort.

There wasn't a lot of foot-traffic around the Elders' hut - presumably, people didn't come here unless they had a good reason to bother the ancient matriarchs. This gave Sayn a chance to get used to the feeling of nakedness, the warm, moist jungle-air caressing her bare skin, before she had to get used to anyone actually seeing her like that. While taking a deep, calming breath, however, she remembered something. "Say, Lutra... do you know what a 'cloaca' is?" She asked, hoping that her worldly consort would perhaps recognize the strange word.

Lutra nodded, forehead wrinkling. "Sure I do... bit of an obscure term outside of the Beastkin, I suppose, but why are you asking about that n...aaaah! I thought that female earlier looked a bit odd! Of course..." She switched from bemused to enlightened in mid-sentence, without ever actually telling Sayn anything, much to her annoyance. A raised eyebrow and a tapping foot, however, soon persuaded her to cough up some actual information, albeit with an insufferable grin. "Well, there's a couple of Beastkin Tribes who, like the animals whose aspect they share, have some slightly... different plumbing to what you humans are used to, y'know?" She explained. "Specifically, the Birdkin and, oh yes, the Gatorkin! Not that it's a surprise you didn't notice back then... you know, when you went one-on-one with Wolayn? Big guy, great stamina - the orgy really got started when he joined us!"

Eventually, Lutra got tired of dragging it out and actually explained what she was talking about. As it turned out, the 'cloaca' was a kind of combination orifice that some animals and - by extension - some Beastkin, had instead of an asshole, vagina, and/or urethra. On males, this made little visual difference - it simply meant that their dicks were used solely for mating and delivering sperm. For females, the difference was more significant - they only had _one_orifice between their legs, which served for getting rid of all kinds of waste, as well as being a mating-sheath and birth-canal. "This, of course, raises a great number of questions!" Lutra gleefully exclaimed, gesturing as Sayn grimaced at the mental image. "Like, are they incapable of having anal sex, or is ANY sex they have anal by definition? And is going down on one the same as a rimjob? 'tis a matter for the philosophers, I suppose..."

Sayn could only laugh at Lutra's mock-thoughtful face, while digesting the consequences. Clearly the reptilian Sirrush also had this feature, which - as Lutra had earlier exclaimed - explained the sense of something being 'off' that she'd gotten from watching the Swift-Claw female getting pounded earlier. The lack of a visible asshole had thrown her off, without really registering - it was, after all, hard to notice something that wasn't there. Well, if she was ever going to look for a female lover amongst the Sirrush, she'd have to decide how she felt about all of that - and in the short term, it just meant that she had a great opportunity to introduce the Sirrush males to the wonders of a double-orificed lover. Which might require a bit of a delicate touch, granted, seeing as they wouldn't be used to females having anything between their legs that didn't self-lubricate... good thing she'd asked, at least!

One thing made her pause, though. "Wait... Birdkin? I'm pretty sure there weren't any feathery folks amongst the Beastkin group who came to me, back when I was first looking for a consort. I guess I just assumed, for some reason, that all of the tribes sent a representative..." Lutra shrugged in reply. "Eh, most did. Every tribe got the offer - at least, that's what Cybra told me, at the time - but a couple of tribes refused to send someone... including the Birdkin. Those feathery folks have always been a bit aloof, y'know? Hanging around the treetops, looking down on the rest of us... heh. They regret missing that chance now, I expect - but hey, they're still benefiting from the changes your rise to power have creates, so I doubt they're too upset!"

Well, that was something worth filing away for future reference - she didn't much like the idea that there existed entire tribes of Beastkin that she was completely unaware of just because she'd never fucked one of them. But for now, she needed to stop procrastinating and start walking - it was either that, or chicken out and pull her clothes back on and pretend it never happened. And she didn't want to do that - she could feel the wetness between her legs, feel the same perverse arousal she'd experienced when she saw the two Sirrush mate by the roadside. She was about to walk naked into a crowd of strangers, inviting anyone who saw her to mount and pound her... an unbelievable perversion back home, but an everyday activity here. If she left without trying it, it would haunt her wet dreams endlessly, of that she felt sure.

And so, flanked by Lutra and Ori, she started back down the sloped road, naked and barefoot. One of her scouts had spotted something that would've been called a marketplace if the locals knew anything of trade or currency - a bit further up the main thoroughfare from where she'd met the two cooks. A number of large-ish huts spread around an open space, with various wares lined up outside - pots and bowls, cauldrons of clay or carved soapstone, carrying-harnesses of woven vines or twined ropes, baskets and nets, pouches and feathery head-dresses in various sizes. The only thing that separated it from a normal marketplace was thus the fact that passer-bys simply looked over the goods and picked out what they wanted and needed, without any money changing hands. Certainly, there was a lot of traffic in the area, including the occasional larger specimen. She even spotted a particular character who was, most likely, of that 'Spineback' Tribe she'd heard the Elders mentioned - he stood out significantly, with a large, sail-like crest on his back, held up by a series of tall spines, and a long, crocodile-like face lined with short, fierce fangs. He was also really, really big - if the 'Grand-Tooth' Tribe was bigger yet, they had to be terrifying monsters indeed.

Was it really a good idea to head directly towards such a major area right off the bat, though? Maybe it'd be better if she stuck to the smaller footpaths for now, picking up one or two males just to get a sense for what it'd be like... though, of course, she wouldn't be running into any of the really big specimens that way, and she really wanted to find out what they were packing. At least the more resonably-sized ones, which presumably included the likes of Bataar the Big-Fang, were apparently within the reach of Sirrush specimens close to her own size. After all, if someone could manage to handle a Spineback, be she ever so bowlegged afterwards, they couldn't possibly be packing equipment in full proportion to their size. Besides, the scout she now had watching the 'marketplace' spotted a couple of other brightly-painted females, both noticeably wearing patterns that extended down their long, powerful legs, stalking the area in search of willing lovers - well, one of them was stalking, the other was being pounded by a similar-sized male in a side-alley. Either way, seeing such 'peers' close at hand would make her feel less awkward, a permanent reminder that however taboo her actions were by northern standards, she was perfectly within social norms here.

So she kept going towards the plaza, feeling the eyes of several passerbys on her body as she went - no-one accosted her, but a couple seemed to suddenly remember business in the same direction and followed behind, their eyes roaming up and down her vividly-painted legs, ass and back. The moment she stepped out into the open area, she drew a lot more eyes almost instantly, including several males who suddenly seemed to find something more interesting to stare at than the rows of crude ceramics. Feeling her face flush bright-red with embarrassment and arousal, she forced herself to keep walking rather than try to stick to the periphery - crossing the wide-open space in full view of everybody, making sure that no-one could miss her naked body or the inviting patterns painted upon it.

She could tell that many of the looks she was getting were simply ones of curiosity - she was an unusual sight, after all. Even so, the Sirrush - who had clearly never seen a human before - remained rather cool about the whole thing, especially when she imagined how the appearance of a single Swift-Claw, be she ever so beautifully painted, would be received in a major human settlement. There wasn't even that edge of nervousness and uncertainty that she had sensed in the attention of the equally-curious 'leaf-eaters' of the Muhuru-Ngoubou. Perhaps they just had such eminent confidence in their own apex-predator status that it didn't occur to them to view her, or anybody else, as a potential threat.

Nonetheless, she picked up a small mob of interested parties who obviously had more than general curiosity in mind - judging by the intriguingly-shaped tools dangling between their legs, in various states of unsheathing. Feeling their lustful stares on her back - and ass - made her shudder, and she was starting to worry that the juices now running freely down her inner thighs would ruin the careful paintjob. (She needn't have, as she'd learn later - the paint was clearly formulated with an eye towards durability in the face of various sexual juices, and took a fair bit of scrubbing to get off.) Spotting a solid-looking wall - the side of a hut that seemed to be the home of harness-weaver, thus making his goods far less susceptible to trampling than, say, the clay-workers - she took a deep breath and then put her hands against it, bending at the waist and practically thrusting her painted 'tail' out at the onlookers.

Clearly, the Elders had done a good job translating the traditional patterns to her bulbous ass - certainly, her new-found coterie had no trouble interpreting it, and recognizing it for the open invitation it was. "No need for foreplay..." it whispered. "In fact, don't even bother saying anything. Just grab me, mount me, and fuck me hard!" The first Sirrush to answer the call was an average-looking, average-sized chap - presumably a member of the Swift-Claw tribe, which seemed to be quite numerous, and apparently also lived up to their name, considering that he somehow managed to get in front of at least a dozen other males, some of them smaller and more agile-looking than he.

She shivered as she felt his clawed hands on her shoulders, his rough, leathery skin rasping against hers, and his hot tool poking against her pelvis. He found her pussy with surprising ease, though - perhaps it was just about in the same place as the local females' 'cloaca', or maybe the variety of differently-sized females he'd likely have experience with had taught him how to find orifices at any height with ease. His tapered cockhead easily parted her sopping-wet labia and pushed inside, revealing a follow-up texture that turned the shiver into a near-orgasmic shudder. From the feel of it, its shape was very similar to the larger specimen she'd seen with the first, painted female - thickest around the middle of the shaft, with ridges along the bottom and steadily-growing bumps along the top. It felt just as amazing as she had imagined when she saw it, even if it was slightly smaller in scale... maybe there was one of those bigger ones, probably members of a closely-related Tribe, in her gaggle of admirers too? It was worth hoping for, but for now she could only duck her head and moan as she felt the bumps and ridges caress her tender insides in long, slow strokes.

Those long strokes rapidly grew less slow as the Swift-Claw grew more confident - and more comfortable with her no-doubt-alien-to-him body. His powerful legs, crowned by a huge, terrible claw, which had given his Tribe their name, also enabled him to move his hips with incredible speed and precision - eventually working himself up to the kind of speed she'd previously only seen in those lucky creatures who had a natural 'knot' with which to bind themselves to their lovers, preventing them from accidentally pulling out. In this case, though, there was no such thing - he was using nearly the full length of his cock, repeatedly stretching her hungry pussy-hole around the fat midpoint of his shaft as it blasted in and out, scattering a mist of pussy-juice with every thrust.

She came twice before he reached his climax, easily lifted to ecstasy by the feeling of a powerful, predatory body rutting against hers, never mind the heavily-textured tool he was using to so thoroughly violate her. A warmth spread up through her womb as he filled it with his seed - and then, in an instant, he was gone, pushing her halfway to a third orgasm as he pulled out. She barely had time to breathe twice, however, before another, slightly larger body covered hers, fully penetrating her gaping pussy in one, smooth movement backed by the force of the mounting itself. She could feel... a rippled flare just beneath the head, followed by another, knot-like bulge. Looking up, she grinned with recognition. Sure enough, her second lover's head was crowned by a pair of broad crests - he could even be the same one she'd seen taking second place at the roadside show earlier, for all she knew.

Of course, this was also a keen reminder of her situation, almost making her cum again before he'd even started thrusting. Looking around, she saw that she was surrounded by aroused-looking males from a variety of Tribes, all waiting their turn to fuck her. Beyond that, though, the 'marketplace' was carrying on - craftsmen were working in their open, doorless huts, shaping clay or weaving fibers. Countless other Sirrush were walking by, stopping to browse here or there, or pick something up - or stare at the unusual creature who was busy getting gang-banged in a corner. She was really doing it - offering herself up in full view of everybody, inviting every passing male to join the queue and have a turn at her overheated, lust-crazed body.

Even as the mind-boggling perversion of her actions - and the pleasure she was deriving therefrom - began to make her mind go blank, though, she noticed a couple of other things. Nearby, leaning casually against another wall, was Lutra - who was getting just as many curious looks but seemed to largely ignore them as she instead focused on the mass of horny males surrounding Sayn. Ready to step in if things got out of hand - a heartwarming reminder of Otterkin's devotion, as she once again set her own (no-doubt raging) desires aside in favor of keeping a sober eye on things.

More surprising, somehow, was the sight she caught a bit further down the road. The second painted female that she'd seen when scouting the plaza wasn't getting a lot of attention now - whatever males might have been interested in her had probably been drawn away by Sayn's exotically-erotic appearance. But she wasn't being neglected - with bent legs, she was resting her forelimbs on the ground and keeping her tail curled back, making it easy for Ori, despite his smaller size, to vigorously screw her. And despite said size-difference, she didn't seem to have any complaints about his performance - nor should she, considering the Flower-Dragon's extensive experience and well-sharpened skill in the sexual arena. Come to think of it, she'd been neglecting the poor chap lately - on the last leg of the boat-trip from his island, he'd been a regular guest in her cabin, sure, but ever since making landfall, she'd been too busy with other stuff. And, occasionally, getting her brains fucked out by Centaurs, a Three-Horn Tribe Sirrush, and now a mob of Sharptooth Tribe males. Considering the amount of sex he was used to having on a daily basis back home, he must've been pretty backed-up by now - a fact that this Sirrush female was now benefiting from.

Well, good on him! She'd have to pay some more attention to him for the rest of the journey, though - and for that matter, to Lutra. She couldn't keep letting them subsume their own desires to hers, standing around as mute support while she sought ever-more-perverted pleasures. She tried her best to nail down that thought in her increasingly-foggy mind, making sure she'd still remember it later. For now, thinking was getting increasingly difficult. The pleasure was rising, her submissiveness was singing eagerly, and the feeling of being in the middle of an extremely public gang-bang was blanketing out any attempt at rationality with its sense of dreamlike wish-fulfillment.

Again and again, she was mounted, pounded, filled with hot cum and then immediately abandoned as the lusty males swiftly pulled out and jumped aside to make room for the next in line. Many of the dicks that plunged into her hungry pussy were variations on the first one - ridges on the bottom, bumps on the top, bulge in the middle - but she had little to complain about on that count, especially since they came in various sizes and occasionally had a different twist or two. There were also different shapes amongst them, as with the ridge-headed one, providing a pleasing sense of variety to her increasingly-sensitive pussy.

The throng around her hadn't really diminished. As some males were satisfied and wandered away, others peeled off from the steady stream of passerbys to join the line. She had no complaint about that, either. Indeed, the only complaint that DID arise from her lust-fogged mind was the fact that her asshole had been left entirely neglected, twitching forlornly above her gaping, cum-dripping pussy. Clearly, the Sirrush weren't familiar with the concept of a female with two orifices. Come to think of it, she hadn't had a good ass-reaming since her visit to the Centaurs on her way south - entirely too long to go without the delicious sensation of having her sphincter stretched around a thick, hot cock!

The male who was mounting her was big - just the way she liked them. Probably another male from the same tribe as the one she'd seen earlier with the painted Sirrush female, larger cousins of the Swift-Claw from the looks of it. He'd work as well as any for revealing this new option to the natives, and with his long legs, he'd be better positioned for it than most. Keeping herself supported against his powerful thrusts with one shaking arm, she reached up the other to caress the long, fang-filled jaw that was panting above her. "Hey... how'd you like to try something special, hmm? I can do something for you none of the local girls can..." she whispered hoarsely. He paused, twisting his head to look down at her. "Sounds... interesting..." he answered, in a voice that seemed almost too smooth to come from such a large, reptilian predator.

"Just... pull out right now, and follow my lead..." she said throatily, now reaching her hand back along her body. She could feel his shaft emerging from her pussy, its ribbed contours thoroughly coated in slippery juices and gooey cum, and once the head plopped out, she carefully guided it upwards, pulling slightly to signal for him to thrust as she rested it against her well-practiced asshole. Hesitating slightly, he obeyed and pushed forwards - then grunted in surprise as he felt her sphincter part around his cockhead, providing entrance into the tight, hot confines of her ass. "Mmm... there you go... I've got a second hole back there, you see... go ahead and give it a good fucking... let the other guys know too, 'kay? They can use whichever they like, just as long as it doesn't get too dry." It was difficult, stringing such a long sentence together when all she really wanted to do was moan at the long-awaited sensation of having her ass invaded by a hot, hard cock, but she managed to hit all the important points, she figured.

The large Sirrush certainly seemed to enjoy his first experience with anal sex fully. He pounded her without reservation, rubbing her sensitive insides with his heavily-textured shaft, stretching her sphincter with the central bulge, and spreading the lubricant he'd carried with him from her pussy all over the inside and outside of her asshole. "Such a fascinating creature..." she could vaguely hear him mumbling from above as his hips began to jerk orgasmicly. A powerful climax shook her body as she felt his hot, gooey seed spurting into the depths of her intestines. Anal orgasms always took longer to build for her than vaginal ones did, but tended to be stronger as well - a more than fair trade-off in her book.

The large Sirrush did as he had been told - as soon as he'd dismounted, he spread the news amongst the other males waiting in line, most of whom were eager to add such an 'exotic twist' to an already remarkable experience. A few still preferred her pussy, which was fine - kept it nice and juicy, ensuring that it could continuously apply decent layers of lubrication to the anal-fiends, who (in keeping with her request) made such to take a quick plunge in there before moving higher. With her asshole gaping increasingly wide after each fierce fucking, they certainly had no trouble seeing that there was more than one hole to choose from anymore!

As she enjoyed this new succession of ass-poundings, she regularly glanced around to renew the thrill of her situation by once again reminding herself that she was standing next to a busy thoroughfare, in full view of any number of Sirrush passing by, any of whom could decide to join in and avail themselves to her body if they liked. One of those glances, though, made her knees week and her heart catch in her throat. At the back of the mob of lusty males surrounding her, a huge figure towered, head and shoulders above even the tallest of them. Not quite as big as Bataar, nevermind the Spineback she'd spotted before, but still clearly a member of the 'big' tribes. His head was big enough that he could've probably eaten her in two bites, and a pair of fierce, bony horns emerged from his brow, giving him an additional, demonic aura of intimidation.

A towering, carnivorous, horned monster. Waiting in line to fuck her silly. In the middle of a heavily-trafficked marketplace. Was she even really still awake, or in the throes of a perverse, lust-soaked dream? She moaned and came copiously, more from the thought of what was to come than from the admittedly-decent efforts of the Sirrush currently occupying her back and giving her well-worn ass a rapid-fire pounding. She eagerly clamped down on the next several males who mounted her, tightening her pussy or hole around them in a bid to make them reach their climax faster - moving her hips as well, pushing back against their thrust, and coincidentally boosting her own pleasure along with theirs. It certainly had the desired effect - the males soon filled her already cum-packed orifices with their hot jizz, and the line shrank until she felt a presence far larger than any other looming above her.

She dared a look over her shoulder, and shuddered again. His sheer size was even more obvious now that he wasn't half-concealed behind other lovers - had she been standing up straight, she would've just about been as tall as one of his legs. As for the tool dangling between them, it seemed roughly the size of her forearm - bigger than anything she'd seen on a Centaur, even bigger than Prorsus, her recent Three-Horn lover, in most ways. The head was triangular and pointy, with vaguely-visible ridges along its periphery - while the shaft was a no-nonsense arrangement, right down to the point where it suddenly expanded into a strange, knot-like bulge that seemed more like a bundle of muscles than a blood-inflated balloon. The shaft itself wasn't really beyond her past experiences with Centaurs and such, but that knot-like arrangement... it was bigger than her fist, bigger than even the base of Prorsus' thick tool, which had stretched her labia to the limit. Perhaps she'd been wrong about the bigger tribes not being hung according to their body-size. Perhaps Sirrush females were just more flexible in that region. Perhaps she'd bitten off more than she could chew.

"Hrrm... hut won't hold. Lean on ground." His gravelly voice echoed down from his massive maw as he towered over her, and sure enough, there was no way the primitive hut-wall she'd been leaning against would stand up to the weight and power of such a huge creature. The simple command made her submissive side jump to attention in an instant, and she was moving almost before she realized it - forgetting her misgivings and nervousness as she jumped back, bending further at the waist in order to put her hands on the ground, legs straight to keep her ass elevated as much as possible.

Out the corner of her eye, she spotted Lutra, who had been watching - and, judging from the wet streaks on her thigh-fur, masturbating - so far. The Otterkin was no longer leaning casually against the wall, but was in motion - ready to step in, to stop the massive, many-fanged beast, whose language she couldn't even speak. But she didn't want that! She didn't want to have seen something like that, such a magnificent tool hanging between the legs of such a terrifying monster, and not at least try it. She fixed Lutra with a glare and shook her head sharply, causing her to pause, uncertainly shifting her weight from foot to foot as she tried to decide whether to overrule Sayn's decision in this case.

Looking back and up, she saw the horned Sirrush crouch over her, clearly trying to gauge how much he needed to bend his legs to match the height of her hips, and called as clearly as she could with her suddenly-shaky voice. "The... top hole, please... fuck me there... please..." Presumably, he'd heard about that, same as the others waiting in line, and now he shifted his head to peer more closely at her groin. "Uh... sure. I will." he finally said, with a shrug, and adjusted his height further. She knew the limits of her pussy - in terms of depth and girth both. It was a highly elastic orifice, capable of handling quite a few things, only to bounce back into its normal shape afterwards. Her session with Prorsus had proved as much.

But her ass was unexplored country, in some regards. She knew where her limits there had BEEN, at various points. Aterxeus the dragon had tested them, back when she'd first been looking for a Consort. But unlike her pussy, her ass was a work in progress - growing with experience, so to speak, as the surrounding tissue grew more and more flexible and stretchy from use. She noticed as much, not long ago, as she visited the Centaurs. When she'd first met him, Parakemnon the Centaur Chieftain had stretched her ass to capacity and then some, providing an experience that balanced pain and pleasure in a way she'd never experienced before. But during this visit, years later, he'd fucked her again - and she'd found that she could support his girth without too much trouble. Well, the depth of her ass hadn't changed, of course, so he'd still stretched the boundaries there, but the beastly cock that was now being leveled at her ass actually seemed to be a little bit shorter, so that wasn't the concern.

Point was, the current maximum capacity of her asshole was an unknown quantity. Looking at it in the mirror, at one point, she'd certainly noticed that it bore the marks of significant use. The sphincter itself was thick and bulged out a bit, as if the muscles there had grown strong from the copious exercise. The skin around it was wrinkled, discolored and strained-looking, from being pushed aside and compacted so often. So... maybe she could handle even this. She certainly couldn't handle it in her pussy, so if she wanted to give it a try, it was her only option.

Lutra, meanwhile, seemed to have reached a decision. She disappeared from sight, moving sideways, and Sayn had no doubt that she'd be positioning herself behind the towering Sirrush, shoving his lesser cousins aside if necessary, so that she could have a good view of the exact point of penetration. She'd be ready to jump in if she saw any indication that Sayn's body couldn't handle things after all, stopping her terrifying lover by any means necessary. Knowing this, Sayn felt her worries quiet further, enabling her to focus on preparing herself for what she hoped would be the ride of a lifetime, instead of worrying that it might be very short and end in tears.

The horned Sirrush had, it seemed, finally managed to position himself to his satisfaction. As the smaller creatures cleared away to give him room to move, he pushed his tapered cockhead into her still-gaping asshole with unerring precision. Considering the weird angles involved, this was actually quite impressive, and made her suspect that the 'knot' was, indeed, a muscle-bundle that enabled the Sirrush's cock to move independently. Not quite the same as a dragon's fully-prehensile dick, but still a nice touch. This comparison stuck with her as she felt her sphincter stretch easily around the ribbed cockhead, and clamp down on the long, smooth shaft that followed.

It wasn't the first time she'd been screwed by a huge, powerful, carnivorous reptile, after all. Twice before, she'd bedded dragons. Terrifying though these huge lizards were, it was abundantly clear that they'd be no match for a grown dragon - they couldn't fly, couldn't breathe fire, and seemed to have about as much aptitude for magic as the Griffons, which was to say none at all. Reasonably speaking, she should view the creature towering over her as nothing but a faint imitation of a dragon's overwhelming majesty - a turnoff to be sure. Instead, she was as aroused as she'd ever been. Why?

Her deeper, more reasoning mind chewed this over, even as her instincts happily ignored the question and just forged ahead, making her moan eagerly with every inch of thick shaft that filled her ass, expecting at any moment to feel the huge, muscular knot pushing against her sphincter. It was, she decided, perhaps BECAUSE the dragons possessed such overwhelming majesty. Just being around one, she could feel its will weighing her down, bringing her submissive side to the forefront. Both times she'd been with a dragon, she'd lost herself completely, abandoning all reason as she simply let the dragon use her as he saw fit. This was different - sure, she was acting submissively (that was, after all, why Lutra was so worried), but it was on a more normal level. She wasn't losing herself completely. She could still tell this huge beast to go for her ass instead of her pussy, something she would never have dared with a dragon.

And the magic... it was so intrinsic to them. The word 'impossible' just seemed to fade away in their presence. The first dragon she'd been with had changed his size to match hers, using her body fully, stretching it to the limit. The second one had twisted time and space itself to realign HER body, enabling it to somehow take his full size inside her. In both cases, there was no real risk - they were so completely in control of the situation and their surroundings, there was no way for anything to really go wrong. There was no spicy edge of danger, no adrenaline-spike of lust-tinged fear. She hadn't had this sensation, like standing on the edge of an abyss and wondering if she really had the courage to jump, or the skill to land safely.

Her logical mind was happy with this conclusion. Her instincts, meanwhile, just emitted a long, high-pitched groan as she finally felt something smooth and hard and oh so thick touch her already-stretched sphincter. She could feel his length inside her, the ribbed head sliding through her intestines. It hadn't hit the 'bend' yet. As she'd thought, his length was nothing her ass couldn't handle - there was still enough room to spare, even with the added handspan of the muscle-knot. Assuming her sphincter held, he'd be able to fit his full tool inside the hot, tight embrace of her asshole.

"Oh yes... fill me completely... stretch me open on your huge cock..." She wasn't even quite aware that she was saying it out loud. It was simply what was running through her head at the time, making its way out her mouth between the various pants and eager moans. It was only when she heard the gravely voice from above rumble an "...okay." that she realized what had slipped out. 'Talking dirty' wasn't part of her usual repertoire, never mind in such a public setting - but considering the circumstances, there was little point in feeling embarrassed. If anything, the added feeling of exposure - of barring not just her body, but her perverted desires, right out there in the open in front of an audience that numbered in the dozens, only served to deepen her pleasure.

Moans, nevermind speech, was out of the question now, though. She had to grit her teeth against the pain. The reptilian monstrosity above her had to weigh somewhere between one and two tons, and right now it felt like most of that weight was bearing down on her tiny, overworked asshole, inexorably forcing the thick, hard knot inside. She could actually feel the muscles inside it, shifting to counter the sphincter-muscles that now squeezed down on it. The pain was sharp, clear, penetrating - a loud signal from her body that it was reaching its breaking-point. But still she panted through clenched teeth rather than cry out. Lutra was behind her. If she actually started tearing, the Otterkin would jump in immediately. And apparently, the local Elders were very good with needle and thread.

She could keenly feel the muscular bulges of the 'knot' as they pushed through her sphincter. Surely, she'd already hit the widest spot? It was hard to say - it wasn't as neatly spherical as the knots she'd seen on canine Beastkin or Griffons. For that matter, he could probably widen it further just by tensing those muscles! Bit by bit, it slipped inside her, straining against the inner walls like it had strained her sphincter. The pain was spreading deeper, even as she felt his pointy, triangular cockhead grind against her intestine deep inside, being forced to the side the the curvature of her colon.

Finally, the muscle-knot was fully inside - and she hardly noticed. The base behind it was a bit narrower, but still noticeably thicker than the shaft had been. As thick as a fully-grown Centaur stallion's flared head. As thick as anything she'd taken up her ass before today. So the singing tension in her sphincter remained, even as the pain of stretching now filled her ass a handspan deep. The sensation of fullness was overwhelming - her ass was packed beyond any reasonable limit, stretched to the breaking-point both in length and in girth.

Vaguely, she heard voices mumbling nearby, and cranked open one of her tightly-closed eyes to see the source, even as she slowly interpreted the words. "Took a Hornface's knot... all of it! Never seen the like..." Slowly, she realized that her audience had grown exponentially. Before, it had just been the other interested males, milling around her and waiting their turn. The rest of the plaza, the other passerbys - they'd just gone about their business, perhaps throwing a curious glance or two at the pink-skinned oddity that had entered their midst.

But now, it seemed like most of the marketplace was arrayed around her, probably more than a hundred specimens if one counted the smaller, near chicken-sized Sirrush who peeked out behind the forest of legs. All watching intently as she was anally violated by a towering, reptilian monster. Not just males, but females as well, both painted and not. A couple of larger shapes loomed in the back of the crowd, craning massive heads to look over their lesser fellows. A long, narrow, crocodile-like face was starring at her with eager interest from remarkably close, and above it she could see a tall, sail-like ridge rising along the Sirrush's spine. A Spineback. Bigger than the monster currently occupying her ass by a healthy margin. Was that desire she saw in his eyes?

The orgasm ambushed her completely, brought about more by her overwhelmed mind than her currently pain-wracked ass. The soaring pleasure flowed through her body, quieting shrieking muscles, even as the automatic contractions turned her ass into an inferno of agony... for a brief moment, after which it faded away. The muscles there had made their token attempt to squeeze down on and expel the intruder, and now seemed to mostly just give up. A thumping pain remained, seeming to rise and fall in tune with her heartbeat, but it was no longer so intense that she couldn't sense the pleasure lurking underneath.

Her ass... so stretched, so full... pushing her limits, and in front of such a huge audience... and now, the huge thing was finally starting to move! It couldn't shift much, of course, but the knot was serving its purpose - even if it wasn't actually what it had been designed for. She could feel it growing inside her, deepening the pain and the pleasure, muscles tensing and growing harder. When he pulled back, her sphincter - already at its limit - had no intention to accommodate it. Instead, it followed the knot out, tenting the surrounding tissue as it pulled away from her body. She'd seen stuff like that before - on Thielwen, her Elven consort - but she could not recall it ever happening to her before. The sensation was too indescribable to properly term as either pain or pleasure.

The rest of it, though... the sensation of that immense shaft, that gigantic knot, shifting and moving inside her, rapidly picking up speed, pounding the depths of her ass with such violent power that even Parakemnos would've been left green with envy... she could call that pleasure easily enough. It shuddered through her, so intense and overwhelming that her head started bopping on its own, drool running from the corner of her mouth. Her legs were shaking, only barely kept erect by a combination of instinct and long practice. Not all of the exercise she got was sexual, but quite a lot of it was - and it involved four-legged lovers more often than not. So her legs had grown quite strong and muscular from the frequent stresses, something Cybra had sometimes joked would also come in handy if she ever decided to just run away from the whole 'God-Empress' deal.

There was no running away now, though. She could only struggle desperately to keep her ass elevated as thrusts backed by a ton or more of solid muscle poured into her, with every thrust grinding the Hornface's leathery groin against her ass-cheeks while his pointed cockhead pushed against the curvature of her intestine and slid sideways to poke her in the flank. Now that the dam had burst, the orgasms were coming hard and fast, far faster than she was used to with anal sex. The sheer size of the intruder probably helped - it was filling her ass to the point where her pussy, beneath, was being deformed, and grinding against her womb deeper inside. Her entire groin seemed stuffed with cock, shaken over and over by the shuddering impact of the quick and heavy thrusts.

She could not begin to guess how long it lasted. Probably not as long as it felt like, her sense of time distorted by the pleasure and pain. Certainly, the extremely tight conditions would likely have prevented even the most determined of males from lasting very long. Regardless, he eventually came - filling her intestines with a huge, gooey load of thick, hot cum. She came from that, of course, but with the orgasms coursing through her so frequently, she also hardly noticed. She did, however, notice when his knot shrank back to its original size, muscles relaxing and unclenching - and the certainly noticed when he pulled out, once again stretching her protesting sphincter around its still-impressive girth.

It was easier than it had been going in, though - the already-experienced muscles having now grown accustomed to even greater size. With a plop, it left her, followed by the long, smooth shaft and the ridged, pointy head. What it left behind was a red-rimmed crater that rapidly filled and overflowed with white goo as her deeper intestines clamped down on the sudden emptiness and expelled the intruding cum as a result. She didn't move, even as she felt the huge, horn-headed beast behind her step away with a rumbling sigh. Her fucked-raw, cum-drooling asshole was on display for everyone to see. Just that thought was almost enough to make her cum again.

Then a claw fell on her ass, and she heard a whistling voice. "You can lower your rear a bit. Not all of us are that big, y'know." Gratefully, she collapsed to her knees, and also let her arms bend under her torso, resting her head and chest on the dusty earth. A reptilian body, far smaller than the one that had just left but still bigger than her, covered her back, and she felt a familiar, ridges-and-bumps texture slide into her pussy. Probably a good choice, considering the way her ass gaped right now. She could feel the crowd milling around her. Apparently, what she'd just done was some kind of really impressive feat, and she dimly recalled hearing the Elders complain about youngsters making some kind of game out of 'who can take the biggest cock'. Certainly, she'd drawn a lot of attention.

She once again forced an eyelid open. The mob surrounding her had hardly diminished. A few might have left, deciding that the 'main event' was over, but others seemed to linger in the hopes of seeing even more impressive displays in the near future. More yet had apparently gotten really horny from watching, and there WERE a number of other, painted females in the crowd... albeit more familiar and less exotic. Panning her eyes over what she could see of the mob, without going to the effort of turning her head around, she could spot four females of varying size, each with their own coterie of eager, lustful suitors surrounding them. Her gangbang seemed to be turning into a regular, if improvised, orgy.

Her view was suddenly blocked by a small body. A bit bigger than the chicken-sized Sirrush she'd seen clustered around Bataar, but not by much. Turkey-sized, maybe. Would've been face-to-crotch with her if she was on her feet. Like many of the other, smaller Tribes she'd seen, he had decorated himself with a variety of colorful feathers, making him look vaguely bird-like - and he was grinning naughtily down at her, showing a set of tiny, needle-sharp teeth. "Hey-hey! You have head-pattern, yes? Know mouth-secrets? Very different mouth. Looks safer! I wanna try!"

Oh yeah. She'd gotten the pattern that marked her as willing and able to suck cock at the drop of a hat, too. Nobody'd availed themselves to that offer so far, but since this little fellow was asking, she could hardly deny him. Besides, the dick that dangled between his legs seemed tasty enough, if way too small to do any good in either of her other orifices. It was simpler than most she'd seen on these Sirrush, almost human-like though with a far more flat and pointed head. Barely-perceptible rows of tiny, stimulating nubs seemed to line the shaft, starting with the lower ridge of the head and continuing all the way down the top - no doubt capable of inflicting great amounts of pleasure in a suitably-sized female.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she lifted her head and opened her mouth, inviting the chatty little fellow to mount her there. He did so, without hesitation, thrusting his rock-hard cock straight through her lips to slide across her waiting tongue. She wasn't really that experienced when it came to sucking dicks of such diminutive size, but it hardly seemed to matter - her lack of flesh-rendering fangs meant that she could make full use of her lips, unlike the local girls, and that made a lot of difference. At least, that's how she interpreted the smallish Sirrush's eager groans and lusty comments. Soon, he came, spraying a load of thick, savory cum, more salty than bitter, across her tastebuds. As he pulled his wet cock from her mouth and jumped away, she saw that a fresh line had formed before her head, mostly made up of smaller Tribes who'd be hard-pressed to do anything useful with her by-now widely-stretched holes.

And so, while the larger specimens availed themselves to her pussy - steering clear of her still-gaping ass for now - she serviced the smaller ones with her mouth, swallowing load after load of their thick ejaculate. She had no shortage of orgasms, although they felt a bit weak compared to the ones that had wracked her body while she shuddered under the Hornface. Then, a dark shadow loomed over her again - a massive body, several times her size. "Raise rear. Not bend so low." The voice was coming from ahead and above, and she peered up to see that long, crocodilian face again. The Spineback. Far bigger than the Hornface from before. Bigger than Bataar, the Big Fang. Despite a nagging sensation that someone ought to be stepping in right about now, she shakily got her legs back underneath her.

She didn't think to ask him to go for her ass, please - but fortunately, she didn't need to. He went straight for the throbbing, gaping, still-sensitive orifice all on his own, spearing into it with a thick, smooth shaft. Her sphincter barely bothered to protest, but deeper parts of her ass soon did as he continued to push into her. It was definitely thicker than the Hornface's shaft, and though it didn't reach the same level of girth as his knot, it just kept going - stretching the deepest parts of her ass to new dimensions. He had no knot himself, she realized with a mixture of relief and regret. Or if he did, it was further up his shaft and wouldn't reach her. Certainly, she could feel his cockhead - blunt and fleshy, far from the Hornhead's pointy triangle - push against the curvature that marked the deepest possible penetration her physiology would allow.

Without such a knot, his stroke-length was far greater, though of course that meant less speed too. The huge cock thundered into her sensitive asshole with enormous power and impact, shaking her with every thrust and reminding her of a longer, rougher version of Prorsus - visiting a less tolerant orifice. The violent pounding sent repeated orgasms through her body, shaking her head to toe and making the blowjobs she continued to dole out to the smaller Sirrush clustered around her head a bit sloppier. (Not that they complained, mind. As far as they were concerned, it just meant that they got to enjoy the soft, moist warmth of her mouth for a bit longer before they reached their climax and had to jump aside for the next guy in line.)

Sayn was no stranger to orgies. She's had her first such experience when she invited nine young, eager Beastkin into her tent, asking that they share access to her and try their best to stand out from the rest of the group. More recently, she'd been beset by who-knew-how-many Flowerdragon males, during the banquet-turned-party-turned-orgy on the Flower-Dragon Island, and serviced long lines of Centaurs in their encampment. But nothing could have prepared her for this. By the time the crowd cleared out, the sun was setting, and she felt sure that she'd been fucked by the entire adult male population of the extensive village. The smallest tribes had availed themselves of her mouth, leaving her with a stomach that was, by now, straining under the sheer number of hot cumloads she'd swallowed. The mid-sized tribes had pounded her pussy with eager energy, grinding a variety of intriguing textures against the sensitive, worn-out tissue.

And the biggest ones, well, they'd used her ass - each time forcing her to lift herself back to her feet, stretching her aching legs, so as to offer herself to them at a suitable height. There had been several more after the Spineback, including several Big Fangs and at least one more Hornhead. She couldn't say for sure if there'd been anyone from the Giant-Tooth Tribe among them, but certainly none had rivaled the girth of the Hornhead's knot. They'd still been big and long and thick, though - filling her ass to capacity, shaking her body with their thrusts as she shuddered beneath their huge, powerful bodies. Her sphincter was a ring of fire by now, throbbing as the cooling air caressed it. Thick globs of cum were oozing from both of her orifices, muddying the ground between her knees. She might have emptied her bladder at some point too, she wasn't entirely certain - everything had gotten rather foggy.

Her whole body was a shaky wreck, worse by an order of magnitude than after her session with Prorsus. She did not think she'd be able to stretch her legs if another larger specimen showed up to request it, but she was still keeping her knees under her, leaving her two gaping, fucked-raw holes available to any more moderately-sized males who passed by. No-one was taking her up on the offer. Even the line of smaller specimens eager for a blowjob, which had gone a bit longer, had dried up - leaving her worn-out tongue to rest at last. But she could still feel them all moving around, hear the footsteps and the din of voices. The 'marketplace' clearly didn't close until it was fully dark, plenty of pedestrians were still passing by, and she was exhibiting her wrecked, fucked-silly body before them all. Even now, after so many hours, the thought brought an erotic thrill with it, making her worn-ragged pussy tingle.

A pair of strong, fur-covered hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her aside, across a silk-smooth surface that felt warm and alive to the touch. "All right, Your Highness, that's your lot. Time to get you cleaned up and turned in." The sarcastic voice made her eyelids flutter, but she couldn't quite work up the energy to open them. She knew that it belonged to someone she loved and trusted, and that the body she was now resting across belonged to someone who'd protect her. That was all she really needed. She was too tired to move, too tired to think. Before they had even reached the river, she was snoring on Orichaniel's back.

She woke up the next morning - or, rather, the next noon - feeling thoroughly sore. Not just in her nether holes (though, yes, definitely there too), but in her whole body. Going through strenuous exercise and failing to stretch properly afterwards will do that to you, she glumly thought to herself as she staggered to her feet and looked around for something resembling toilet-facilities. Said facilities proved to be a hole in the ground, outside, which was about par for the course.

Her body-paint had been scrubbed off - along with a layer of stale sweat and dried sex-juices - while she was unconscious, with even the lukewarm water of the local river failing to wake her from her exhausted sleep. Bit of it still lingered around her joints, where it had been worked in by the repeated motion - like a visible reminder that, yes, yesterday DID happen. She actually DID get fucked insensible by several dozen large, intelligent predators, with a whole village as an eager audience. While the thought made her burn with embarrassment, it also made a small part of her shout "Whee! Let's go again!"

She had spent the night, as it turned out, in a spacious (if primitively appointed) hut, into which they had been invited - through gestures and sign-language - by a brightly-painted female. Which had saved Lutra and Ori from having to drag her all the way up the hill to where they'd left the golden riding-beast, and with it, the tent. Which they would've first had to find a place to erect, and then actually put up, which was a lot easier when you had two sets of hands. So they'd taken the offer, gratefully, despite the language-barrier.

Now that Sayn was awake, she quickly struck up conversation with their host, who turned out to live there along with her two sisters. They had spent the night with some males of their acquaintance who didn't mind the company - the show in the plaza yesterday had gotten the whole village a bit worked up, she commented with an awestruck look, probably not recognizing Sayn's luminescent blush for what it was - but soon returned to join the conversation. All three wore body-paint, albeit in different configurations. Two had the leg-patterns, including the one who had invited them in, while the third lacked it but instead had both the tail- and head-pattern. All of them, however, were eager followers of the 'Size Queen' game, and thus in awe of her.

Belatedly, she found out that the Hornface Tribe was considered EXTREMELY well-equipped for their size, and furthermore than the 'knots' at the end of their shaft wasn't normally considered a usable part of their tools. "Even many of their own females struggle to take it comfortably!" One of the sisters commented, idolization sparkling in her eyes as she looked at Sayn's comparatively diminutive body. "I've never HEARD of anyone from a smaller tribe even trying!" Hoping that she wouldn't soon have a number of shattered cloacas on her conscience, Sayn was quick to jump in at this point. "Well, I wouldn't exactly recommend it! If it had been bigger by even the slightest margin, I would've needed a lot of stitches - and it hurt like you wouldn't believe!"

After further making it clear that she had extensive experience with oversized cocks - which did nothing to decrease their obvious admiration - and that her 'capacity' was considered exceptional amongst her own tribe, she felt that she had dissuaded them as much as she could from trying to duplicate her feat. Quickly moving to a new topic, she learned that Orichaniel had left nearly as much of an impression as herself. While she'd been surrounded by eager males, he'd been making the rounds to every painted female who showed up to watch, and managed to impress them all with his ability to punch above his weight - that is, pleasure females who were noticeably bigger than him. Apparently, his impressively-ribbed and knotted tool (which she knew from experience was truly delightful), combined with his skill, agility and staying-power, had never failed to impress. Even his breezy, confident demeanor had managed to come across despite the language-barrier.

Indeed, the sharp-minded Drone seemed to have grown remarkably good at figuring out what the Sirrush were talking about, just from body-language and tone - enough so that he gave an embarrassed turn of the head when the three females all started singing his praise. Sayn could only grin - it was a shame that he, like the locals, couldn't visibly blush. However, hearing that Ori had so thoroughly caught up on his sexual activities just reminded her even more clearly that someone_hadn't_. She glanced covertly over at Lutra, who was sitting quietly by her side as usual. Trying to figure out what the conversation was about based solely on Sayn's lines and what she could pick up from the native's body-language, presumably.

"I am very grateful for your hospitality, you know..." she started, prompting an immediate eruption of "It was nothing!", "We are honored to have you!" and the like. She waited for them to recede. "Though you've already aided me, could I perhaps ask another favor of you?" Of course she could, she needed only ask, they'd be happy to be of assistance. Smiling, she tented her fingers under her chin. "Well, you strike me as a vivacious lot. You wear those patterns with customary ease, clearly used to them. You know all the best males, I bet?" Oh, of course they did, and a brief spat promptly broke out as all three cited a different male as 'Best in Town'. Off to the side, Lutra groaned and rolled her eyes. Sayn carefully avoided looking at her again, lest the keen-eyed Otterkin happened to see her gradually-forming plan written across her mischievous smile.

"Well, it sounds like you can think of several likely candidates..." she interrupted after a few minutes, and they all nodded along, apparently accepting that as an acceptable settlement. "Well, here's the thing..." she continued. "I'm about to head on a pilgrimage up the Mountain. Orichaniel, here, will go with me, of course - but I don't really need two bodyguards along, considering that the Sharptooth Tribes as a whole watch over this area. And my dear, beloved friend here..." she gestured towards Lutra, who now turned a narrow-eyed gaze of growing suspicion on her "...had been unfortunately neglecting herself of late, in the name of looking after me."

"Saaaayn... what are you doing?" Lutra asked, but Sayn just grinned and kept addressing the three females. "Now, I don't think your traditional paints would work on her fur, and she might enjoy just a bit more privacy than you usually look for around here, but if you could provide her with a few virile, skilled young males to entertain her while I'm away, I'd be much obliged." The three quickly assured her that the hard part would be keeping the number of volunteers down. Many had noticed the strange, fur-covered being, standing around during the escalating orgy and smelling of femaleness and arousal, yet never joining in. Males who had now had their first sampling of exotic humanoids - including such splendors as anal sex and fang-free blowjobs - would be more than eager to explore further.

Lutra, meanwhile, blushed furiously (it WAS visible on her, if rather faint through the fur), and glared at Sayn with a mixture of mortification and gratitude. The details were quickly nailed down, including a number of simple signals that Lutra could use to communicate things such as "Not this one" or "I liked that one, more like him please". She had been about to ask them to make it clear to any male they brought around that he should let Lutra take the lead, and just go along with what she wanted - but it occurred to her that such a request would be entirely unnecessary. The Sharptooth Tribes, she'd started to realize, were deeply matriarchal, and not just in the sense that they were led by a bunch of old women.

Indeed, the whole way their sexual mores worked ensured that the power lay solely with the women. She could invite sexual partners by wearing the appropriate pattern, even instruct interested individuals to mount her without a word, but wearing it was entirely her choice - she had the power to ask for exactly what she wanted, and got it on demand. And while talented females earned the right to lay eggs, there was no such function for males - the only way they got to pass on their bloodline, was by being picked by those females. Assuming this system had endured for a while - and from the looks of things, it had endured for millenia - biological and social pressure alike would have favored males who were skilled at pleasing and pleasuring females. Could even explain all those interestingly-textured dicks she'd noticed about the place.

And so, she left the village on the back of her riding-beast, Orichaniel in tow, feeling safely confident that Lutra would be well taken care of - her built-up needs attended to by a succession of hand-picked, highly-skilled lovers. It was a long trip, up a steep mountain road, but it gave her the chance to work up the courage to apologize to Ori for neglecting him since making landfall. He was quick to dissuade her concerns. "You've hardly neglected me - why, for the first long while after landing on this continent, I was too busy taking it all in, too overwhelmed by the sheer size of the world to even think about sex!" he protested, before going on to make it clear that he'd been far from ignorant of the black mood that had pursued her clear from the landing in Twinharbor and until their first encounter with the Sirrush finally provided her with a worthwhile distraction.

"I also noticed how you tried to bury your concerns in pleasure, back at the Centaur-encampment." He further pointed out, sounding remarkably like Cybra all of a sudden. "Not terribly healthy behavior, in my humble opinion. I've seen its like before - people who tried to forget their troubles by sticking their heads down a barrel of cider, or by seeking pleasure wherever they could find it. There's nothing wrong with having a drink or a good, hard fuck, but if you use it as a coping-mechanism, well, that's another matter. It never helps, it just distracts you from doing anything about the actual root cause of your issues."

No, she decided, he didn't QUITE sound like Cybra. Cybra would've just said something snarky and rolled his eyes, instead of dissecting her behavior like fish on a master chef's cutting-board. Ori really was _disturbingly_sharp in some ways, and there was not a shred of provincialism about him, despite having spent his whole life before meeting her on a tiny island surrounded by his own kind. On the other hand, if what he said was true, then even the endlessly-energetic, life-loving Flower-Dragons could, apparently, grow depressed and morose enough to seek shelter in drink or mindless sex. Which made her feel a bit better about her own brush with such dark emotions.

"Frankly, I think yesterday's exertions were healthier for you - at least mentally." he continued. "Your body may need some recovery-time, though." There was some of that cool wit there, which had first reminded her of Cybra. And she had to agree. While she'd certainly drowned herself in pleasure yesterday, it had felt completely different from when she was in the Centaur-camp. It was rather like the difference between going on a drinking-binge because you were visiting a bar with some good friends, and the place turned out to have a huge selection of interesting drinks you'd never seen before, and Happy Hour lasted all night... as opposed spending all day back home drinking cheap, strong liquor. Sure, the hangover would be much the same, but the implications were vastly different.

Still, she needed to moderate her metaphorical drinking a bit, she thought as she shifted uncomfortably on her riding-beast. She was riding it side-saddle, which she hadn't tried before - but it was that, or delay the trip for at least another day. Sitting astride it was not an option, and she couldn't possibly walk very far today without collapsing. She was still decidedly uncomfortable, and had been forced to dig one of the few skirts she had brought along out of the saddle-bags - her first attempt to pull on a pair of trousers had led to much wincing and gnashing of teeth. (Needless to say, she was naked under the skirt. Even the most downy-soft underthings were out of the question. Not just the orifices themselves, but the entire area around each hole had been thoroughly tenderized. Even the occasional spanking-session in her past hadn't left her this sore, for this long.)

"Well..." she commented dryly. "If we wind up making a treaty with these people, or even bringing them into the empire, we _definitely_need to put out a travel-advisory. If any of my devout adherents show up here to preach the Gospel of Love, they might find themselves getting more than they bargained for!" Ori laughed, but she wasn't entirely joking. Her church was in constant growth, and while a fair percentage of its members still only worshiped her on a fairly 'casual' level, the number of people who took her 'Gospels' very, very seriously were growing too. Back home, that meant going on pilgrimages to Centaur, Griffon and Beastkin lands to 'share the love' - but what with the Centaur's migration and these new species popping up, she could easily imagine a certain amount of pilgrims crossing the Great Sea. During the summer-months it was, after all, a fairly safe - if long - journey. And if she had left as much of an impression on the locals as she suspected, any human visiting the Sharptooth Tribes was likely to be... eagerly welcomed.

They continued to chat as they climbed higher, discussing the local situation and bouncing possible solutions off each other. She could hardly wait 'till she got Ori home - it was becoming ever-more clear that once he'd had a chance to study the political situation on the Northern Continent firsthand, he'd become one of her most useful advisers. Second only to Korlin, perhaps - and it was hard to beat someone who could literally read minds and remove people's ability to dissemble. She'd have to pay back the Queen of the Flower-Dragons properly for providing her with such an able consort, and found herself pondering other possible Flower-Dragon Colony-spots for the future. After all, they'd presumably have another larval Queen to get rid of in a century or so, or possibly two, depending on how quickly they matured... maybe Orichaniel would know...

She was distracted from those thoughts, however, as they passed within view of a series of nests built into the side of the mountain, not far from the winding path. There lived the flying members of the Sharptooth Tribes, who mostly didn't live up to that catch-all term since they were equipped with long, pointy beaks reminiscent of a stork, and apparently fed mainly on fish and smaller rodents, eaten whole. Like their terrestrial cousins, they all had mostly the same body-type, with various crests and similar adornments marking the different Tribes - and also like the ground-bound Sirrush, they came in a variety of sizes. Some were no bigger than the birds and bats she knew. Others were close to man-sized. And some were more immense than she had believed it possible for any non-magical flier to be. Their wingspans dwarfed that of a Griffin, and equaled that of a dragon - albeit with a far smaller, spindlier body in the middle. Remembering her own struggles to craft flight-capable constructs bigger than a common seagull, she stared at them with rapt fascination, watching the way their huge, gossamer-thin wings folded when they landed, and spread to catch every bit of the mountains' updraft when they took off.

She was saddened when the twisting path took the fascinating fliers from her sight, but she didn't have much time to mope - a cave-mouth lurked just a few more twists and turns above them, and that was where the supposed oracle could be found. They were high up, by now, having made their way along a twisty, snaking path, and the air was thin. She was mostly accustomed to that, fortunately, what with previous visits to the Gryphons' Grand Aviary and the remote mountaintop caves of a couple of different dragons. Indeed, she'd been to higher altitudes than this on occasion - but on the other hand, this mountain extended far beyond this point, soaring into the cloudless skies to an almost inconceivable altitude. (The clouds, they had left behind along with the flying Sirrush.) Ori didn't have her experience and was breathing rather heavily, but seemed to be coping well enough in general.

The cave seemed rugged and natural at first, but as they advanced inside, that impression subtly shifted. Everything seemed just a bit too smooth, too straight, too level. And as the light shining through the entrance began to dim, strange, glowing crystals started to appear in the walls, spreading a wan light - enough that soon put back the torches she'd initially pulled from her riding-beast's saddlebags. Deeper and deeper they went, and gradually the cave seemed to mutate into something more like a passageway in a well-built castle. The floor was perfectly flat, perfectly level, perfectly smooth - unmarred by the passage of the numerous clawed feet that had to have traversed it over the millenia. The walls rose at a straight angle from it, just as smooth and flat, before curving around in a perfect half-circle to form the ceiling. There was no imperfections on any surfaces, no indication that the tunnel had been carved with tools, be they primitive or advanced. The scale of it was also impressive - not quite big enough for the largest Sirrush Tribes, but certainly big enough for most, which meant that the place was essentially scaled for beings three or four times the height of a man.

Meanwhile, the crystals in the walls - which she had first taken for mere lighting - grew more numerous. Larger clusters started to appear, in the domed ceiling as well, and they seemed to thrum with a barely-perceptible tone. Eventually, Ori paused, one foot hesitantly hovering over the smooth floor. "I don't think I'm supposed to continue..." he said, in a choked-up voice. Looking at him closer, she realized that the petal-like, feathery scales that covered his body were fluttering rhythmically with a sound like leaves swaying in the breeze. Something told her that this was a Flower-Dragon's version of sweating profusely - or perhaps shivering in fear. Strain was certainly visible on his surprisingly-expressive, chitinous face.

Clearly, whatever was affecting him, it was passing her by entirely. But she had no trouble believing that something was holding him back. She might have been a little bit skeptical when she first heard the Elders talk about the 'Heart of the Mountain' and its oracular properties, but the very nature of this edifice spoke loudly of a divine hand at work. Whatever might lay at the end, the tunnel itself had clearly been created, not carved - and if something that the ancient Gods had left behind here, thousands upon thousands of years ago, didn't want Ori to enter, then it would be folly indeed for him to try and press on.

"All right." She said finally. "Head back out and get some fresh air. Wait for me there. This 'cave' seems remarkably straightforwards, so I doubt I'm about to get lost..." She tried to inject a bit of humor into her words, but the echoing surroundings appeared to mock her attempted at levity. It was just one more reminder that she was stepping onto holy ground. Ori, however, just nodded gratefully and turned around to rapidly make his way back out the tunnel. Clearly, the discomfort that had finally stopped him in his tracks had been growing steadily for a while, now. Feeling very alone in the oversized, cavernous tunnel, she took a deep breath and turned her face forwards again. Ahead, the glow of the crystals grew stronger.

She kept going for several more minutes before the tunnel finally ended, opening up into a larger cave. Whether it was natural in shape or as impossibly-perfect as the tunnel had been was hard to say, though, since every surface - save a small are of the floor, just inside the entrance - was covered in glowing, gently-thrumming crystals. Right in front of her, a particularly immense cluster rose from the floor, seemingly glowing more intensely than those around it. There was no living thing in sight, though. Climbing down from the back of her riding-beast, she shakily stepped onto that bare patch of floor-space, and tried to take it all in.

Looking around, she wondered if perhaps, whatever oracular being the gods had left behind in this incredible edifice had simply died and turned to dust ages ago, or left on some indecipherable journey. Then the large crystal cluster suddenly started flashing in several different colors, and and the steady thrum seemed to turn into a crisp song. "A strange supplicant appears." The words came out of the empty air. She could feel the Amulet on her chest throb, as if in tune with the strange hum. Its enchantments were clearly working overtime to interpret and translate such a bizarre, unearthly language.

The dawning realization that the crystals were alive, and somehow intelligent - that she was, essentially, standing INSIDE the brain of an immeasurably ancient being created by the hand of the Gods long before her own people were brought into creation - made her stagger. 'The Heart of the Mountain'... it hadn't been a metaphor. These crystals could very well suffuse the entire structure of the mountain, with this being merely the only place where they could be communicated with. The thought of a living being of such immensity, such ancient pedigree, made all her past experiences seem small - even the mighty Leviathan was but a month-old minnow next to this living mountain!

But she couldn't afford to be boggled, not now. It had spoken, and she needed to answer, to make it clear to this being that she could understand it. "I am not a supplicant, exactly - but nonetheless, I greet you, great Mountain. I am... awed to be in your presence." It felt like a rude thing to say, but referencing its words directly was the best way she could think of to make her comprehension obvious. The effect was immediate. Flashes of excited color spread from the central crystal-cluster to the lesser ones that covered the walls, ceiling and floor, and for a moment she was inside a living rainbow. Then the ancient being seemed to get its excitement under control, and answered.

"You comprehend. It has been 3,382 orbits since my song was last comprehended by a mobile entity. This is very exciting." If one assumed that by 'orbits', he referred to years, well, she could easily see why it'd be a bit excited to have someone to talk to again. Nonetheless, the eager tone in its 'song' somewhat undermined her earlier awe - for starters, she had a feeling that she was in a very good bargaining-position indeed. "Yes, I comprehend, thanks to an enchanted item in my possession. All the... locals who understand your song have apparently died out, I'm sorry to say."

"I had calculated that to be the likely case." The reply was pretty calm, but did she catch a hint of consternation in the 'song'? On the other hand, how accurate was the amulet at translating tone of voice, anyway, especially under circumstances such as this? Better to play it safe. "Can you tell me what... you are? Why you are here?" It wasn't the most important thing she could ask right now, but she was burning with curiosity. She had never imagined a being such as this, never heard of anything like it in even the most fanciful fairy-tales from the Age of Gods.

Fortunately, it seemed like this crystalline being was every bit as eager to talk as she'd expect from someone who'd been deprived of company for over three millenia. "I am... Mountain. Creators made me to watch over and guide their new beings. My purpose has never changed, even as the Creators realized that their new beings were flawed, and abandoned them. My principal purpose has become impossible, but still I watch. Still I long to guide." The crystals flashed and hummed eagerly as the Mountain continued its explanation.

It was difficult for Sayn to make much sense of the Mountain's curt, strangely-stilted speech - or rather, the speech that her amulet was pulling from the humming, ringing song of the crystals. But from what she gathered, the Sirrush had, indeed, been early creations of the Gods - but had completely failed to live up to their creators' expectations. For whatever reason, they lacked any capacity for technological or magical innovation. They could grow and change socially, sure, but even the simplest scientific leap was impossible for them. The Mountain had been designed to be a teacher, to provide them with starting-points so that the Gods could watch how they developed from there. But every bit of technology the Sirrush currently possessed, from fire and pottery to rudimentary tools, weapons and armor, had been handed directly down by the Mountain, just like the Elders had told it.

The Gods had been disappointed. But since the flaw was in the minds of the Sirrush, changing it would mean changing their nature, their selves, entirely. It would be no different from wiping them all out and starting anew with a fresh crop of beings who just happened to look similar. Some of the Gods had, apparently, been in favor of doing just that, but cooler heads had prevailed, pointing out that they could not rightfully punish their creations for their own mistake. So instead, the Gods had simply left, leaving their flawed creations to make the most of their static existence, and apparently trying again with more success on the Northern Continent.

The Mountain had tried to adapt, accepting that it couldn't teach its wards to manage on their own as the original intent had been - that it would have to hand them various techniques and innovations directly, if they were to ever exist beyond the basic, hunter-gatherer stage. However, the rules that had been built into it when it was created, and which the Gods had never bothered to change, prevented it from simply giving the Sirrush everything it wanted to. It could only answer questions and requests, as broadly or specifically as it judged necessary. So it did. And that was how the war started. She couldn't quite tell if the Mountain actually blamed itself for it, but either way she finally got the full story, from the perspective of the immense being who had watched the whole thing, helpless to intervene directly.

There had been famine, right enough - a drought that made the jungle wilt and the prey flee. Shamans from the herbivorous tribes asked the Mountain for a way to get enough food for everyone, and it had been more than eager to provide - giving them the secrets of farming, irrigation, and the basic tools needed for that purpose. He had provided them with basic weapons and armor as well mostly just because it could be vaguely justified, with the reasoning that they would need to protect their new fields from pests - some of them rather large. It had hoped that the predatory tribes would make a similar request, so that he could try to teach them herding and animal husbandry, but they had not - rather, their request had been too specific for it to be easily twisted around. They had asked how they could ensure that they never ran out of prey to hunt again.

So the Mountain had made the most of it. He had taught them of population-control, how to keep an eye on the prey-species' numbers and target those that were plentiful, while letting others recover. When to hold back on hunting for next year's sake. And, twisting the rules as far as they would go, he taught them how to control their own population with contraceptives, teaching them general-purpose herbalism in the bargain. Essentially, its policy had been to provide anyone who came with a request with as many innovations and techniques as could be possibly justified, in order to hurry the creatively-sterile Sirrush onward to a more advanced, stable society.

But while both sets of knowledge, on their own, were valuable, and could have been used to further the Sirrush standard of living in general, they proved a poor combination and rapidly created a rift. The meat-eaters watched as the leaf-eaters suddenly prospered beyond all reason, spreading and growing in leaps and bounds, seemingly at the expense of their ancient, jungle home, even as they themselves started working to carefully keep their numbers down in the name of maintaining the balance of nature. And so, the conflict arose, as the predators decided that it only made sense to apply their new knowledge of population-control to their delicious, delicious cousins... and their 'prey' replied with their newly-acquired military technology.

"In retrospect, weapons and armor were a poor addition. Should have been saved for later. I was still adjusting to the changed profile of my mission at the time." The Mountain's song was cool and logical as always, but she was increasingly sure that she could hear regret in its voice. And, yeah, maybe that had been a bit of a screw-up... but then again, who knew how that conflict would've turned out if the herbivores HADN'T have access to those technologies? Regardless, things beyond that had worked pretty much as she'd already known - a herbivore ambush slew the assembled Shamans of the newly-minted Sharptooth Tribes, and with the predatory Sirrush then clamping down on access to the Mountain with renewed vigor, nobody ever came to speak with it again - at least, none who could understand its song. It had, of course, been the Gods' idea to limit access to the Mountain's reservoir of knowledge by only providing the secret of its language to a tiny number of Sirrush, and instructing them to pass it down to only a single apprentice. Yet another pearl of Divine Wisdom, she thought sarcastically.

Then the Mountain fell silent, and after a moment, Sayn realized why. It had told her what it was, and what its purpose was - just like she had requested. And, cleverly, it had managed to tell her along the way that this was_all_ it could do. There were many more questions she could ask, about how to deal with the division between the two Sirrush factions, or about what the Gods had been like back when her home continent was nothing more than a lifeless wasteland. But there was one question that she had carried with her for a long time, and a being this strange and ancient might just have an answer. Certainly, it couldn't hurt to ask!

"Can you tell me what I am?" She was surprised that her voice didn't waver as she asked that. The crystals flashed, and beams of light moved across her in waves - from head to toe, from side to side. The light seemed strangely substantial, and she swore she could actually feel it crawling across her skin when it touched her bare face. After the light had finished its slow journey, the crystals flashed in a variety of shades, and finally the song answered again. "I could." Belatedly, she realized that she'd just worsened her negotiating-position significantly. But the lure was too great. "And what would you have in return?" she asked, steeling herself.

The answer, however, proved surprisingly innocuous. "I would see your translator. I sense its magic even now. Complex, layered. The result of many orbits of advanced magical development. Just as the Creators desired. I may be able to copy the enchantments, if provided with direct contact." Ah, of course... if the Mountain could actually do so, then the problem of the nonexistent Shamans would be solved. The Mountain would be able to resume its duty, after all these years - once again guiding and aiding the Sirrush, providing them with the tools needed to build a better life.

Hesitating only slightly, she pulled the amulet's chain over her head and, clutching it in her fist, crouched down to place it against the surface of the nearest crystal. Immediately, a strange, multi-hued glow spread through it, and was rapidly mirrored by other nearby crystals. All the seven colors of the rainbow were there, and then some - an eight color, for which she had no name. For several minutes, the colors flashed through the surrounding crystals as if the Mountain was chewing over the spells trying to make sense of them. It was making her dizzy and nauseous, so she resolutely closed her eyes and waited for the flashing - still barely perceivable through her eyelids - to die down.

When it did, a crystal-clear voice rang out. "Thank you." It wasn't coming through the amulet - she'd learned to tell. The process had worked. The Mountain could now speak the Divine Tongue and, presumably, the Sirrush's own, strange language to boot. Rising to her feet again, she slipped the amulet back on before speaking. "You're welcome. Now... what am I?" The crystals twinkled for a moment before the answer came. "You are a Half-God, and appear to have inherited a large portion of divine power. The technical term for your kind would be 'Scion'."

It was kind of an anticlimax, she thought. It had been the main theory for so long, but gone continuously unconfirmed, with most hints amounting to 'maybe, maybe not'. On some level, she felt that after so long, she kind of deserved a more surprising answer. Well, of course, there was that other, unanswered question that invoked... "But... how? The gods disappeared a millenia ago, and I have little more than twenty winters to my name." The crystals twinkled thoughtfully for a while before she got a reply. "I do not know that. I know that the Creators are gone. I sensed their sudden departure from the world, 1,172.4 orbits ago. I would likely have sensed if any returned, and have not done so. The Divine Spark within you also does not match my memory of any of the Creators. Best theory: There exists at least one Creator that I am unfamiliar with and cannot sense."

Well, THAT was a bit more surprising. She could count off the Gods on her fingers if she had to - thanks to the teaching-songs of her childhood, which had never quite abandoned her. Thenares, God of War, who made the Centaurs. Cerulec, God of the Seas, who made the Merfolk. Vertanimis, God of the Wilds, who made the Beastkin. Djibahaad, God of the Skies, who made the Griffons. Mother Belah, Goddess of Fertility, who made Mankind. Shigami, Goddess of Life, who made the Kirin. Sie'leal, Goddess of the Sun and mightiest of them all, who made the Elves. And finally, the God of Mystery whose very name was an enigma, creator of the fearsome Dragons... the Eight Gods. Could there truly be a ninth? One who was her secret father? Who had snuck unseen into the world, conceived her, and then disappeared just as tracelessly? For what reason, and to what purpose?

Somehow, receiving a clear and presumably-accurate answer to the question that had plagued her for so long had merely served to bring various other questions - previously lurking in the background - forwards and into full view. Seemed like the more she learned, the less she knew. Sighing, she shook her head. "Well, thank you for giving me at least that much to go on. Now, then - how do we deal with the Sirrush? I mostly just need to make sure that my Centaur allies can harvest wood from the jungle unmolested, but you presumably have more extensive goals... still, I believe out interests are largely aligned. A better life for all, yes?" The Mountain blinked its agreement.

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And lo, The Beastmaker descended from the Mountain, and she spake unto the savages gathered beneath, telling them that she had made for their Mountain a tongue that it might speak to them again. And all the savage beast knew that she was a true Goddess, and fell down to worship her. And so, while their western brethren at first resisted the inevitable, they eagerly joined Her Eternal Empire, and they walked into the world with fragments of the Heart of the Mountain around their necks, and knew the Divine Tongue.

And they went into Her temples, and knew already the Holy Sacraments, for they had become Enlightened. And when the Heretics and the Unbelievers rose against Her Eternal Empire, and took up arms in their folly, the noble savages rallied and came to the defense of those who remained Faithful. And there was great wailing and gnashing of teeth as they fell upon those who had betrayed The Beastmaker, praised be Her name!

• Fragment of The Southern Testament, author unknown (Not considered as Canon by the First Church of The Beastmaker)

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