FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty: Damage Control

Pushing aside the tropical flora, Steingar bends the supple branches before cutting into them with the hatchet he wields. He carves a little trail through the greenery, blazing a path toward the fallen log.

“Here we go! This is the one I saw from the rooftop!" He glances back at the others.

“Finally!" Trellan exclaims.

“Tell me again why we couldn't have just cut down a closer tree..." Valan remarks, emerging from behind the towering, old Vizhek.

“Because we only have this..." Steingar raises the hatchet. “And I'm not about to spend all day cutting down a live tree that we'll still need to size and split."

“Had I known we'd be camping, I would've made a saw a higher priority in my tool chest." Trellan quips.

“Weren't you a soldier? You're supposed to be prepared for anything." Steingar retorts.

“That was a long time ago, well over a hundred years, and I've tried to forget about it."

“Let's hurry this up. I want to get back." Valan grumbles.

“Missing her already?" Steingar teases.

"Why would I miss J-"

“I certainly would, as beautiful as she is! You're very lucky, having Draeolynn tucked under your arm." Trellan remarks, cutting Valan off.

“Er... Exactly! If I don't keep my eye on her, someone might try and steal her." Valan replies, narrowing his eyes at Steingar.

“What're you looking at me like that for? I'd never steal another man's woman!"

“Really?!" Trellan raises his brow in shock. “And what about the military's 'survival of the strongest' rhetoric that they preach to all of their empty-headed recruits? Have they finally done away with that?"

“No. The average soldier would try and kill him in the night and drag that tasty little elf into their own tent, but I'm not the average soldier; as a bloodforge, I have a code! ... Besides, I respect Draeolynn too much to steal her from Valan."

“I appreciate that, Steingar, but I was actually talking about Mairlynn." Valan smirks.

“Hah!"

Cutting into the fallen tree, Steingar hacks away at the dead, punky wood, starting a series of small logs that they'll cart back to the temple; it's become their base for the duration of their visit. When his muscles grow weary, Steingar passes the hatchet to Valan, who picks up where the Helngar left off. The sweat beads on the human's forehead, soaking his hair and running down his face and neck. He tries to go blow for blow with the mighty Helngar, and to everyone's surprise, Valan does a remarkable job.

Pausing from his labor, Steingar is quick to take his place. Splitting the first set of logs, they set them aside in bundles, readying them for the short hike back to Nirthen's temple.

“I can't help but notice how there's four men in the crew, but only three of them doing the heavy lifting." Valan suddenly comments.

“And?" Steingar glances toward the human.

“Just an observation!"

“Well, it sounds like bitching to me. Back in line, soldier!"

“You pull any of that soldier crap on me, and I'll put you in the dirt again." Valan quips.

“You know I like it rough." Steingar smirks.

“It's good to see you two finally bonding." Trellan grins. “Irzain's understandably a little distracted with the temple." He says, gathering a bundle of split logs. “Put yourself in his shoes. You've finally reached a place you've been dreaming of, a place that could hold the secrets to your forgotten past. Wouldn't you be more concerned with the search for clues than gathering wood?"

“Everything concerns me more than gathering wood." Steingar remarks.

“I understand his situation. I do! All I'm saying is that I hope this is worth all the effort we're making on his behalf. I feel like we give him too many excuses to be useless." Valan replies.

“Then let's agree that if he fails to make this whole journey interesting, we'll tie him down and sacrifice him to Mairlynn." Steingar smirks.

“Agreed!" Valan and Trellan both chirp.

Marching through the forest with their bundles of wood, the trio emerge from the jungle. Pausing for a moment, to catch their breath, they gaze upon the temple. It's a magnificent sight, constructed entirely from sandstone, a material uncommon in the Erie Isles. The richly colored, not-quite-golden building is several stories tall, with arches supporting the living quarters and library, all of which are above ground level. It's a design unlike any they've ever seen, even Trellan. With square turrets rising into the sky, it looks like a blocky crown, sitting atop a large stand.

Valan glances back, looking into the jungle and scanning their surroundings. Steingar and Trellan head for the only door, built into a turret that reaches to the cobblestone street and houses a stone-built spiral staircase; it's the only usable portion of the temple that reaches ground level. Finally noticing Valan's gaze, Steingar watches the human for a moment. Extending his long, tapering, prehensile tail, he gently taps the human's back, gathering his attention.

“Hm?" The human turns toward the Helngar.

“Are you alright?"

“Yeah, it's just... I don't like how thick the jungle is; as small as this island is, I really wish we could see across to the other shore."

“Oh. Me too, but I think we'll be alright."

“Are you sure?"

“Don't worry, Valan. It's clear that this island has been abandoned to the elements ever since Irzain fled; I suspect it'll stay that way long after we leave." Trellan assures them.

Lifting the door latch with his tail, Steingar uses his foot to hold it open for Trellan, who carefully makes his way up the stairs, a tall bundle of firewood in his arms.

“When do you think the men will be back?" Draeolynn asks with a little whimper.

“Soon." Kirsta sighs.

“You think so?!"

Draeolynn turns her attention to the blond-haired woman. She stands across the room, staring out of a window and gazing at the ocean. Kirsta never looks back or answers her; she appears lost in her own thoughts.

“Yeah. Relax, before you wear a hole in the floor. You don't want to fall through and break your legs." Mairlynn giggles.

“I just don't like the feel of this place..." Draeolynn murmurs.

“You really miss him, don't you?" Jarae suddenly asks.

“Who? Valan?" Draeolynn turns to her.

“Yes, Valan! Who else are you sleeping with?!" Jarae barks.

“Word travels fast around here..."

“Yeah. Especially when you don't even try to hide it; cuddling and kissing him by the campfire last night." Mairlynn smirks.

“D-do you care for him?" Jarae presses the redheaded Falmun.

“I don't know him well enough to have deep feelings for him, but he's certainly a sweet, handsome guy... And a gentleman, both in and out of bed." Draeolynn winks.

“Someone's proud..." Mairlynn murmurs.

“Don't fault me for enjoying his companionship."

“Is that all he is, though? ... A companion?" Jarae asks.

“What else would he be?!"

Jarae and Mairlynn sit in silence, their eyes wide and brows raised from her answer.

“Uhm, I know it's not my business, but does Valan know that's how you feel about your relationship?" Mairlynn asks.

“I've been honest about everything after our first time together, and Valan's been the same; he knows my thoughts about us and he's okay with it. We've agreed to let whatever relationship we have evolve on its own, though I admit, I'll likely be gone before it can..."

“You sound kind of sad about that." Kirsta finally remarks, looking away from the window.

“A little... I've never been in a relationship before; I'm new to all of this. I hadn't even had sex before last night. Of course it's going to bother me, leaving him... Leaving all of you. I don't have any other friends... And especially none as good looking as Valan!"

“... Right" Kirsta snickers. “Well you know you can-"

“Oh, please. Don't even act like you haven't noticed how attractive he is!" Draeolynn cuts her off.

“... He's not my type."

“Really?!" Draeolynn looks surprised.

“Then what is?" Jarae asks.

“Valan has a build like a competent scout, and while I can certainly see the appeal, I've always preferred men with bodies like seasoned woodcutters." Kirsta casually answers.

“Huh... Well, if that's what you like!" Mairlynn shrugs her shoulders.

“I never would've guessed that." Jarae remarks.

“I guess that means you enjoy it when their big, burly arms toss you onto their bed like a wet raincoat. Do you like it when they show off their strength? Does it make you smile when they hold you down and have their way with you?" Mairlynn teases.

Kirsta's face flushes, her lips curling up at the corners as she lowers her head. Her sapphire eyes stare at her feet and her arms pull toward her chest, smooshing her large, milky breasts together in a startling display of femininity. It's wholly out of character for the typically cold and grouchy warrior. Though initially a joke, it's apparent that Mairlynn isn't far from the truth; her pose is all the confirmation they need. With smug little grins, the Jaliscan and the two Falmun women glance toward each other, before turning their attention back to the embarrassed looking human.

“A-alright... L-let's, uhm, let's get back to it..." Kirsta murmurs, a strange softness in her voice.

“... Get back to what?" Jarae cocks her head.

“Exactly!"

“You know, I'm still surprised that you don't find Valan attractive. I saw it the moment I laid eyes on him. That's what drew me to him in the first place." Draeolynn remarks.

“Don't you think that's really shallow, though?!" Jarae looks to her.

“Well, how'd you meet him then?! What were your thoughts?!" Draeolynn snaps back.

“When we met her, she was a part of some other group of Jaliscans, led by some half-retarded guy. What the hell was his name? He thought Irzain was a Captain because he looked like a picture in a book!" Kirsta begins.

“Radiz..." Jarae murmurs.

“Really?!" Draeolynn gasps.

“Yeah!" Kirsta chuckles.

“She abandoned them and joined us out of nowhere. Valan helped her escape when they understandably turned on her, and even paid a healer when she got shot." Mairlynn adds.

“Well, that was nice of him! I knew he was a sweetheart." Draeolynn grins. “But why would you do that, Jarae? What would compel you to betray another group?"

“Yeah!" Mairlynn flashes a sinister grin.

“Erm..." Jarae hesitates.

“Come on, Jarae. You can tell us!" Kirsta pressures her.

“I-I just... I saw how Radiz was losing his grip and-"

“Bullshit!" Mairlynn yells.

“Yeah, you were fine with it until Valan started talking!" Kirsta interjects.

“Be honest!"

“Well, I just... I saw him standing there, in that dark room, those pistols in his hands... He was confident as he tried to talk Radiz down; his voice was so soothing, er, soft... I looked him over; even with his modest frame, he looked strong..." Jarae's lips slowly curl up around her snout as she thinks back. “He had a gentle air about him, like a field of roses. Those big, innocent eyes and that humble, sly smile of his. Mmmm... And that bulge in... Er... Never mind." She shakes her head. “He just looked like someone I could trust, and I thought-"

Jarae pauses as she glances toward the other women. All of them, even Kirsta, stare with wide eyes. Kirsta looks utterly shocked, while Mairlynn cocks her head. Draeolynn slowly brings up a hand, covering her mouth.

“... What?"

“Aww! That's so cute!" The redheaded Falmun gushes.

“That sounds like love at first sight!"

“H-hey now, l-l-let's not get c-carried away!" Jarae flushes beneath her fur.

“I didn't realize." Mairlynn remarks.

“Now I feel bad for teasing you behind your back." Kirsta murmurs.

“Huh?!" Jarae gasps.

The girls say nothing more on the matter. A few tense minutes later, they hear the door at the base of the stairwell bumping against the stone wall. The men grunt and groan as they slowly make their way up the spiral staircase, their arms laden with firewood. Kirsta and Jarae both head for the inner door, with the Jaliscan lifting the latch and the human holding it open for them.

“Right over there is fine." Kirsta points toward a corner.

“What? No tip?" Steingar asks with a little smile.

“You want a tip? Get a trade, and then you won't have to cut wood and dig ditches." Kirsta smirks.

Heading for the corner, they drop the logs near their packs and assorted gear. They fall atop the polished sandstone floor with loud thunks. Trellan is quick to stack them, building a pyramid out of the wood that stands as tall as Mairlynn's chest.

“So, where's the scribe?" Steingar wonders.

“Where else."

Kirsta sticks out a thumb, pointing behind her and down the hall.

“Still?!"

Kirsta slowly nods.

“... Has he found anything?"

Kirsta slowly shakes her head. With a frustrated sigh, Steingar looks back at Valan. He motions to him, subtly cocking his head. The human sets aside his gear, keeping on his custom-built, single-shot pistols, which sit in their holsters, and his new 'harmonica pistol' – nicknamed for its appearance to the classic Falmun instrument – which dangles from a lanyard tied to his belt. He cracks his knuckles as he approaches the Helngar, looking up confidently at the mighty warrior, who is more than a head taller than him.

“I'll shoot him if you drag the body."

“Easy killer." Steingar replies with a little chuckle, resting a clawed hand on the human's shoulder. “Let me do the talking."

“Suit yourself!"

The pair head for an archway at the far end of the hall, passing by the now familiar fountain which still spews little streams of crystal-clear water. Dried blood still stains the portion where Korvan's body had fallen. Steingar's long tail disappears around a corner as the women watch in silence.

“Those two seem like good friends." Draeolynn remarks.

“That's very recent. I didn't think they even cared about each other but just before we visited you, we were on another island where they had a fight. Valan won, and Steingar has been treating him differently ever since." Jarae explains.

“Oh..."

“I should've known a man like him would be into the kinky stuff." Mairlynn coos, staring at the now empty archway.

Walking into the library, they find Irzain seated atop a padded chair. Armless and backless, the little stool is surrounded by books and scrolls, forming the missing portions of the furniture.

“A little light reading?" Valan suddenly asks.

“Oh! You're back!" Irzain exclaims.

Closing a book and springing to his feet, he approaches the two men. He's giddy with excitement, his wide, emerald eyes scanning the walls of the library. Built-in shelves, formed from painstakingly carved and polished sandstone plates, hold thousands, if not tens of thousands of scrolls, books, and unused parchment.

“I've discovered a clue!"

“Really?!" Steingar appears surprised.

“Yes! This place, it's a temple for record keeping. I've been pouring over the works here, and-"

“Do you know what the Crown was looking for?" Steingar cuts him off.

“Well, no... But-!"

“Then you didn't learn anything new. We already knew this was a depository of records, Irzain."

“Looking over the spines of books can't tell you that."

“Yes. Yes, it can." Steingar growls, placing a hand over his brow.

Valan reaches out, taking his index finger and placing it over the titles written on the spines of the books closest to him.

“Annual taxes of outlying islands; sector three. Yearly corn harvest. Patent list, volume ten." The human reads aloud.

“See? ... What are we even doing here?!" Steingar asks.

“Well, I'm hoping that if I read enough of these, they'll jog my memory. Maybe I missed something during the burning, and maybe the soldiers missed it to?" Irzain suggests.

“That pile of ash in the outdoor lounge is considerable, Irzain, and you're a smart man. I don't think you missed you anything..." Steingar retorts.

“It's time to call it quits, Irzain." Valan adds.

“But, but... We're here! ... The knowledge, it-"

“We have one final lead..." Steingar steps closer to him. “But this one was a dead end. Learn when to cut your losses."

“Please! J-just one more day!" Irzain pleads, his voice shaking.

“We've already been here for a night and a day!" Valan growls, growing impatient.

Looking back, Steingar extends a hand, silently urging the gunman to calm down. Grumbling to himself, Valan crosses his arms before his chest and looks away from the two men, staring at a bookshelf. Turning back to Irzain, Steingar steps even closer.

“We're not going to keep wasting time here just for you to read farmer's almanacs..." Steingar narrows his eyes, speaking sternly. “But, if it'll make you feel better, we'll give you one night. We'll leave tomorrow. Does that sound fair?"

“... Fine." Irzain murmurs.

“Good. See you at dinner."

Steingar turns around and walks away, passing by Valan. The visibly frustrated gunman turns his eyes toward the middle-aged scribe, glaring with a seething anger.

“All of this is your fault. It's time to learn a little something called 'damage control'..."

Reaching out a hand, Valan angrily pushes a row of books onto the floor. Startled, Irzain takes a step back. With a low growl, Valan whirls around, his long hair swishing to match his movements. He storms out of the room, leaving Irzain alone in the library. Approaching the fallen books, Irzain squats down and gathers each other, handling them with a tenderness akin to a mother carrying her child. Back in the main hall, which the crew have made their base, the men prepare for yet another adventure. With Trellan providing the equipment, he joins Valan and Steingar as they leave for the skiff, intent on fishing for their dinner.

Emerging from the library, Irzain carries a stack of books into the campsite, setting them in neat piles around his bedroll. Originally, he'd intended on sleeping in his own bed, but the memory of Naoma hangs heavily in that room. With the others surrounding him, huddled together for security more than anything else, it helps ease his mind. He retreats to the library before emerging with yet another stack of books. Plopping down atop the bedroll, he flips through a book listing annual mango harvests; it leaves him disappointed.

He was hoping for another explosion of memories to wash over him when they arrived at the temple, but nothing happened. Even when they found Korvan's body, lying in a putrid heap, half-skeletonized beside the fountain where the soldiers left him, it still didn't awaken anything new. After burying the corpse, Irzain dove head-first into the books and scrolls, but all he's found is useless information and frustration. Still, he can't give up. Finishing with the mango harvest logs, he tosses the book aside. It lands in a new pile, the 'read' pile, near Jarae's bedroll, which sits near his own.

“Could you pass me the book of male birth records for sector two? I'd like to give that one a shot."

Kirsta and Mairlynn lift their heads. Jarae looks to him before turning her attention to the unread books. She pauses, staring intently at the spines of the books and hesitates. Draeolynn notices the uncomfortable silence, looking between Irzain and Jarae. The scribe lifts his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh, it's the second from the top, in the stack closest to your feet."

Jarae silently passes him the book.

“You can't read?!" Draeolynn gasps.

“Well... No..." Jarae murmurs.

“Why not?!"

“I was too busy surviving to take the time to learn." Jarae angrily replies.

“Most of the peasant classes aren't literate." Kirsta points out.

“Oh... Well, what about you?"

“I can get by." Kirsta replies.

“Well, don't worry! I can teach you!" The redheaded Falmun chirps.

“What would be the point?" Jarae cocks her head.

“... To be able to read." Draeolynn replies, a confused look on her face.

“But... Am I even smart enough?" Jarae asks, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

Draeolynn is flabbergasted.

“Don't you think so?!" She finally asks the Jaliscan.

Jarae merely shrugs her shoulders, her head tilted downward as she keeps her eyes focused on the redheaded elf.

“Well, I think you're more than smart enough. I'll teach you and Kirsta both, for as long as I'm here."

“Ah-are you sure?"

“Yeah! It'll be fun!"

Unable to subdue her smile, Jarae slowly and subtly nods her head. For the next few hours, Draeolynn does her best to tutor both Kirsta and Jarae. It's clear that Jarae will need the most work, as she isn't even familiar with the alphabet. Though she shows enthusiasm, their lessons are cut short when the men return, laden with fish caught just off-shore. The crew eat a pleasant dinner, bantering amongst themselves, while Irzain keeps his nose buried in his books. Page after page, he tears through the words, hoping that just one of them will unlock another memory. It never does.

Lying down to rest, even Irzain can't force himself to stay awake. The exhaustion forces him down and shuts his eyes. Soon, they're all dreaming as they lie in a circle around the fire, which they've built inside of a solid brass brazier.

“Ahh-yeah! That's it! Nnn-hff! His manhood is so good!" Indana exclaims.

“It looks good! You should see how he's stretching your little hole! She looks so small by comparison!" Cicera remarks.

“Mmm-shit. She, nngf, feels so small on, nngf, his big meat! AHH!"

Bouncing harder and faster, Indana, the ice-blue and snow-white Lahnyt rocks and swivels her hips, pleasuring herself with the bound and drugged Valan.

“Nnngf-rrr-yeah! Almost! Nngf! I'm, nngf, I'm! Nnngghh, ahh, aahhhh, AAHHH-YES!"

Indana lets out a shrill scream as she orgasms, consumed by pure pleasure. Her loins clamp down hard on Valan's manhood, immediately preceding a geyser of clear fluid. She squeals as she climaxes harder than she ever has in her life. Groaning into his leather half-mask, Valan can feel her quivering loins squeezing his throbbing phallus like a hot, wet, velvety vice. Her body begs for every last drop, and with his mind and body thoroughly under their spell, it's no use to fight. Unable to hold out any longer, he grunts into his mask, wincing as he cums. Jet after powerful jet shoots deep inside of Indana's supple body. Her ruby eyes shoot open, growing as wide as saucers.

“AAAHHH-YEAH! I FEEL HIM! HIS SEED! AHH! IT'S SO HOT!" She exclaims at the top of her lungs.

She arches her back, her big, DD-cup breasts jiggling and tapering tail swaying with glee behind her. Her body halts as she plants herself firmly atop his lap, sitting on Valan's soaked phallus. His dripping wet scrotum, covered with her fluids, is shoved into the snow-white flesh of her buttocks, pushing into the space beneath and covered by her tail. Her loins quiver, attempting with futility to close while his endowment is still stuffed inside of her. With her body gripping tightly to his oversized manhood, they can both feel her being filled to the brim with his potent sperm.

Indana slumps forward, resting over him. She nuzzles his face with her blocky snout, and her vibrantly colored flesh, like the hide of a dolphin's, glistens from a fine layer of sweat. Planting her hands above his shoulders, her large breasts push into his chest. He can feel the warmth and dampness of her flesh, her body shimmering like precious metal. Her hard nipples grind against his skin, tickling him.

“Alright..." Indana gasps, catching her breath. “Collect his blood and hair, and be sure to mix it with whatever spills out when I remove him."

“Yes, my Zak'Rana." Cicera nods.

The green and gold Lahnyt obeys her mistress. Pinching the ends of his long, flowing hair, she takes a nearby blade and cuts the strands away. Using a small, stone-carved bowl, which she places the hairs into, she brings the bowl to his left bicep. With her right hand, Indana watches with sadistic glee as she cuts him with her claws. He groans into his leather half-mask. Cicera jams the edge of the square bowl beneath it. Pushing on his wound, blood seeps out and drips onto his strands of hair. Finally, Indana begins to rise.

Racing around the mated pair, and being careful not to spill the contents of the bowl, Cicera drops to her knees by Valan's shins. She gleefully watches as Indana's stretched womanhood pulls with the removal of his long and girthy manhood.

“Wow. That's... Beautiful." Cicera coos.

“Nnnn-focus, underling."

Cicera nods and prepares herself. Turning his eyes down, Valan watches in silence as Indana finally pulls the rest of his manhood from her loins. With a slick plopping sound, it falls against his belly. Shifting her hips, he sees Cicera extending her arm, holding the bowl against or just beneath Indana's thoroughly used loins. Her expression suddenly changes, revealing her shock and awe. After a moment, Indana flops over. She lands on her side, lying beside her victim, unable to hold herself up with her wobbly arms and legs.

“By the Goddess! Look at that!" Cicera presents the little bowl to her mistress.

“It certainly felt like a lot." Indana weakly grins, pushing herself up and staring into the receptacle.

“Is there anything left for you? I mean, will you still take after discarding so much of his seed?" A concerned Cicera wonders.

“Yes." Indana chuckles. “He left me with plenty. In fact, what's inside of that bowl might be only what I squeezed from his shaft as I pulled him out; it feels like I didn't spill a drop of what he gave me."

With reddened cheeks, the nude Cicera moves toward a small stone altar. She sets the bowl atop the altar and performs a strange prayer, raising her arms high and prostrating herself as she speaks in a language that Valan doesn't understand. After the prayer, Cicera lights a series of candles, saved for this occasion. She collects a small vial made of black glass, set aside from all of the pink glass bottles that hold the potion they've used to subdue and control him. Pouring the contents into the bowl, it's readily apparent from the smell that it's pure alcohol.

Using one of the nearby candles, the green and gold Lahnyt sets fire to the contents of the bowl. It burns as a symbolic sacrifice to the mother goddess.

“Please, mother goddess, we beseech thee. Accept our gift and bless the Zak'Rana and her followers with many healthy children." Cicera prays, once again speaking in Valan's tongue.

“Alright... Now it's your turn." Indana speaks softly.

Turning back, Cicera stares at the human's big, throbbing manhood. The potion's affect is clear; he'll remain ready for some time. Taking a deep breath, the virginal Cicera crawls on her hands and knees toward them. She slowly climbs over Valan, preparing to ride him as Indana had done. Indana, however, stops her.

“You aren't experienced enough for that yet, underling."

“Oh."

“Hands and knees..." Indana growls, a devious smile on her face.

Cicera obeys, crawling like an animal as Indana leads her. She brings Cicera closer, instructing her to look at Valan as she pulls him up by the collar.

“I-I don't... I'm not sure if I'm ready." Cicera sheepishly remarks.

“Your Zak'Rana is done, underling. I can tell that you're ready, and now it's your turn. You need to accept his seed if the mother goddess is to have more new followers. Besides, it's high time you lost your virginity anyway! You're nineteen, right?"

“Eighteen..."

“More than old enough. I have yet to meet a woman who wasn't married and pregnant by sixteen."

Directing him like a puppet, Indana brings Valan to Cicera's hindquarters. She plants his hands on Cicera's waist, grabs his manhood by the base of his girthy shaft, still slimy from Indana's use, and rubs the head of his member against Cicera's lime green nether lips. Cicera shivers, having never felt anything except her own fingers in such a sensitive place.

“Don't worry, underling. This is the proper way for your first time. Face-to-face is a sacred position, best used for breeding; we just need to get you used to our pet first, and then I'll let you stare into those big, pretty eyes of his." Indana casually explains.

“Y-yes, m-m-my Zak'Rana." The nervous Cicera nods.

“Alright, stud..." Indana reaches out, lifting Cicera's tail and showing her loins to him. “Make her a woman."

With his manhood already properly aligned, and thoroughly controlled by the aphrodisiac potion they'd tricked him into consuming, Valan does not defy the domineering Indana. He pushes his manhood slowly into Cicera's loin. She tremors as his tip spreads apart her taut nether lips. With a hard shove, Valan dives deep and breaks her hymen.

“EEEEE!!!" Cicera squeals, her orange eyes bulging out of her head as she throws it back.

Opening his eyes, Valan stares straight ahead. He looks at the back of Draeolynn's head. She lies before him, tucked in his arms, as she does every night since they've had sex. He struggles to slow his rapid panting, carefully pulling himself away from the elven woman. He sits up on the bedroll, feeling the sudden throbbing of his old wound, the bite mark on his right shoulder. Reaching across his chest and grabbing the afflicted area, he rubs the flesh and bone. Why does it still hurt when it's thoroughly healed? As his breathing slows, his heart no longer racing, he looks around the room.

Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, he pauses when he notices the shimmering, pink eyes watching him. Valan turns his attention to Jarae, who stares at him and Draeolynn from across the room. Illuminated by the brass brazier, he sees her sitting atop her bedroll, which looks as though it has yet to be slept in.

“Can't sleep?" He quietly asks.

“The floor is uncomfortably hard." She replies in a whisper.

“Yeah..." He nods. “It is made of stone."

Jarae cracks a little smile.

“What were you dreaming about?"

“Something... Unpleasant."

“Do you have those dreams often?" She wonders.

“More often than I'd like... Have a good night, Jarae."

Lying back down, Valan slithers his arms around Draeolynn's slender form. Without waking up, she feels his presence. Cooing softly, she wriggles backward, meeting him halfway. Resting his head atop the simple pillow, he spoons with Draeolynn, all while Jarae watches them. After a moment, she turns away, lying down atop her own bedroll. Comforted by Draeolynn's soothing radiance, Valan eventually returns to sleep, no longer tormented by his past. Awakening the next morning, the crew gather around the brazier, using a grill suspended by a tripod and chains to cook over the captive flames.

“Damnit..." Irzain growls.

“Sounds like you found something useful!" Valan facetiously chirps.

“Hardly..." Irzain grumbles.

“Surprise, surprise." Kirsta lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Maybe in the next stack." He says, rising to his feet and heading toward the library.

“No way, Scribe. We're packing it in." Steingar speaks loudly.

“Finally!" Valan and Kirsta shout in unison.

“That's good, because I really miss my cot." Jarae arches her back and winces.

“But you said I had another day!" Irzain whines.

“Yes, but not another night! We're leaving by noon!" Steingar growls.

Irzain turns toward a window, seeing the morning sun as it rises in the sky. He only has a few hours left.

“We should start packing everything up, then." Trellan remarks.

“Any volunteers to load the boat?" Steingar asks.

“It's a skiff." Trellan murmurs.

“I will!" Mairlynn chirps.

“Me too!" Draeolynn adds.

Mairlynn turns her ruby eyes toward Draeolynn, her expression changing.

“Good! Let's kill this fire and start with the mess kit." Steingar replies.

Racing back to the library, Irzain scours the shelves for any book or scroll that looks promising. Patent logbooks, lists of the output of precious metal and gemstone mines, and anything he considers of equal political or economic importance. As he sequesters himself, hoping for anything to spark another memory, the crew break down their gear. With the fire no longer smoking in the brass brazier, they collect their bedrolls and bundle them up tightly. Steingar and Trellan break down the tripod, grill, and all of the cookware, while Kirsta and Jarae gather their weapons and personal affects.

Taking the cookware and bedrolls, Mairlynn and Draeolynn laden themselves. Packed like ants, carrying many times what they appear capable of, the two Falmun women make their way down the spiral staircase, guided by Valan and Trellan. As the two men return to the campsite, in the main hall of the temple, the women walk the cobblestone road in silence. Mairlynn carries the cookware, while Draeolynn wears a pack of bedrolls, her arms outstretched and filled with the remaining bundles. Reaching the skiff, Mairlynn sets down her load and climbs in, before they begin packing the floor of the little craft. The uncomfortable silence eats away at Draeolynn.

“Are you still mad at me?" She abruptly asks.

“Why should I be mad? I get to take a private walk with 'Little Miss Perfect'. What's there to be mad about?" Mairlynn sarcastically replies.

“It's just that you look mad. You were walking mad, and you're even packing the skiff mad... You aren't still upset about what I did, are you?"

“You poisoned my husband!" Mairlynn screams, turning toward her.

“You told me to do it!"

“I did not! I merely said that I would be better off if he died!"

“Well, what was I supposed to think?! He was beating you, humiliating you, cheating on you!"

“I don't know... I just wanted you to be there for me. You were my friend."

“I still am, and I always will be. After all, we're suffering from the same condition. Not many people have Aineotitus syndrome."

“You're hardly suffering..." Mairlynn growls.

“You know what I mean." Draeolynn murmurs, lowering her head.

“You have it all, don't you?! A lifetime of youth, a handsome new playmate, wealth... What do I have? A dead husband and a lifetime to be mistaken as a child, and now I have to be reminded of that, every time I look at you..."

“Is that really how you feel?" Draeolynn's cobalt blue eyes well with tears.

Mairlynn doesn't answer. She exhales, a low growl emanating from her throat. She returns to her work, packing the bedrolls around the hull of the skiff.

“Then why did you come and find me?" Draeolynn quietly asks.

“We needed your help. I had no idea you'd ask us to come along. Maybe if I'd known that, I would've forgotten to mention you..."

A heartbroken Draeolynn jumps down from the dock, landing in the boat near Mairlynn.

“Come on... We should get back and fetch their packs."

“I'm sorry, Mair! Please!"

“You have no idea what you took from me... What happened after Tormin died... I had to move back in with my parents! That's where I was when they died, back at home, like a little child... I never would've been there if it wasn't for you. Every change in my life, ever since we met all those years ago, has been your fault..."

“Every one?" Draeolynn murmurs.

“Every... Last... One..." Mairlynn growls, glaring at her.

“Oh... But then you wouldn't be here."

“I know... Maybe here is better than there? Or maybe it isn't? ... I haven't quite decided yet... Either way, life still isn't easy for me." Mairlynn retorts.

“... Can you ever forgive me?"

“Maybe... I just-"

Mairlynn pauses, her brow furling as she narrows her eyes.

“What is it?"

“Oh no..."

Failing once again to find anything of value to him or his imprisoned memories, Irzain makes his way from the library. To his silent dismay, the rest of the crew prepare their packs, all that's left of their expedition to the temple. Mairlynn and Draeolynn are gone, but so are the bedrolls and much of their supplies and equipment. With a heaviness in his heart, he walks the temple, peering into several rooms. Irzain steps into the dining hall, looking at the empty tables. They elicit no more memories, except for those he's already unlocked.

Turning his emerald eyes toward a corner, he finds a fake brick pulled away from the wall, still lying where he'd left it when he found Naoma's final note to him. Shuffling his feet as he walks, he traverses a room and enters the opened lounge area, comprised of three walls from other rooms, but without a ceiling or a fourth wall. He turns toward the railing, seeing the ocean and the miniscule dock in the distance. The middle-aged scribe leans against the wall, his back pushing against the cold stones of the temple. Weary eyes, dull and lifeless, stare at the large, ashen pile atop the floor.

It's all that remains, after he and his own people burned the knowledge that King Vashalak seeks. His memories and his past could've been among those books and scrolls. Now that they're all destroyed, perhaps he'll never know? Hanging his head, the amnesiac man is overwhelmed by a sense of despair, a feeling unlike anything he's felt before. Footsteps approach him from the adjacent room.

“Hey..."

Kirsta speaks softly as she emerges from the nearby door. Reaching out and resting a hand upon his shoulder, she gives him a comforting squeeze, briefly distracting him from his anguish. Turning his head, they're eyes lock. The blond-haired, buxom warrior flashes a warm and genuine smile, her sapphire orbs looking deeply into his polished emerald spheres.

“It's not the end, Irzain. Not by far."

“Oh?" He raises a brow.

“Yeah. At least you escaped, and as long as you have breath in your aging lungs, you still have time to learn your secrets." She assures him, pressing a fingertip gently into his chest.

Cracking a smile and subtly nodding his head, he returns to gazing at his feet.

“Yeah, you're right."

“I know." She chuckles.

“What ever happened to you hating me?" He turns his eyes toward her.

“I don't hate you, Irzain. I never did, not really... I hate what's happened as a result of meeting you, but I don't think you're to blame. This is all the Crown's fault."

“That's very understanding of you."

“Maybe when we uncover more about your past, I'll change my mind, of course!" She smirks. “But until then, I-... What the hell?!"

Stepping away from Irzain, he watches as she approaches the ledge. Staring toward the ocean, something draws her attention. Standing straight and moving away from the wall, Irzain is quick to join her.

“That's our skiff, isn't it?" He asks.

“What are those damn elves doing?!" Kirsta growls.

Overhearing the pair, the rest of the crew emerge from the room and race toward the ledge. They stare in utter horror as the miniscule craft, prepped for launch by Mairlynn and Draeolynn, speeds away. With the sail bundled and tied down, they're using the spring powered motor to race along the coastline.

“By the Seraphs. You can't leave them alone for one minute; they're almost as bad as you." Kirsta angrily grumbles as she glances to Irzain.

“I'm getting better!" He retorts.

“Do you think they're taking it for a little cruise?" Valan casually quips.

“Maybe something spooked them." Trellan suggests.

“Like what?" Valan thinks aloud.

“Maybe Mairlynn saw a man?" Jarae jests.

“Knock it off. The fact is they're taking our boat, and Arona is a very long swim from here." Kirsta snaps at the others.

“It's a skiff, and they don't know how to run Arona. We should be alright." Trellan assures her.

“Let's get down to the dock. We'll wait for them there; I'm sure they'll swing back around."

Following Steingar's lead, they hurriedly pack what little they have left into their bags. Irzain pauses as he passes the library. Glancing through the doorway, he can see the others as they rush to fill and don their packs. There was one book that showed some promise, though not for his memories. Realizing its potential value, the scribe disappears into the library, taking a moment to look for it.

“Alright. Is that about it?" Steingar asks the crew.

“I think so." Jarae replies.

“Wait... Where's Irzain?"

Kirsta looks around, growling to herself.

“Damn him!"

“I guess we'd better split up and-"

“I'm here!" Irzain exclaims, cutting off Steingar. “I'm here! I just needed something!"

He races toward his pack, stuffing a small ledger into it before tying it closed.

“You ran off to find a book?!" Kirsta snarls.

“Some light reading." Irzain smirks, looking up at Steingar.

Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Kirsta cracks a little smile, softly chuckling. He dons his pack, making sure that the straps are comfortable.

“Let's go, you selfish idiot."

Offering her hand, Irzain takes hold and rises to his feet. With their packs loaded and the main hall cleared of their presence, the crew make their way to the dock. Their footfalls echo throughout the stone-built temple as they traverse the spiral staircase. Emerging outside, Steingar latches the door shut behind them. They walk in silence, their boots and shoes clicking on the cobblestone street. Irzain takes one last look at the place that was once his home. A sadness fills his heart as he abandons the temple for the second time.

Why did this have to happen? What was so important that the new King would be compelled to purge his entire temple, and place a gargantuan bounty on his head? Hopefully, the answers will come, sooner rather than later. Turning a corner, the dock will soon be in sight. The bushes shake, putting Steingar and Jarae on edge. They stop in their tracks, focusing their hearing.

“Now!"

Men emerge from behind the flora, clad in beautifully polished armor. Breastplates are decorated with the seal of the Vizheki Kingdom; a series of chains linking several islands together, before connecting to a central chain, forming an amulet beneath the face of the first Vizhek Emperor. Their glistening gauntlets grip their matchlock arquebus rifles, which they point directly at the crew. The matches are glowing.

“I'm Captain Kristoff Mayweather, and by order of the Crown, you're being detained!" A young, blond-haired human exclaims. “Don't even try to escape! I've got men moving around behind you, right now!"

Steingar's ears twitch. As a Helngar, his hearing is the strongest. He turns his head, focusing on the noises in the forest. He knows that the Captain is not lying.

“I don't know who the hell the rest of you are, but if you're willing to hand over him and the Helngar..." Kristoff points at Irzain and Steingar. “Then I'll let you leave with your lives. I'll be a good sport, and even agree to keep my men from raping your women!"

“How thoughtful of you..." Kirsta growls.

Steingar looks toward Trellan, who appears despondent. Trellan does not hold a weapon, but if he did, Steingar can see it in his eyes; he doesn't want to fight. He glances at the others, startled to see that Kirsta, Irzain and Jarae look to him for direction.

“So? What's it going to-"

Bang! A soldier emerging from the forest behind them recklessly fires his arquebus. The round whizzes by, striking no one. Reacting to the attack, Valan draws both of his custom-built, single-shot pistols. Bang, bang! He fires them within milliseconds of each other, striking one soldier in the forehead, and another in the throat. A corpse falls against Captain Mayweather, who stumbles back and falls under the body's weight. His men open fire, a volley of a dozen arquebus rounds flying toward them. Steingar, Trellan and Irzain break to the left, while Kirsta runs to the right, which is closer to her.

Valan drops his guns to the ground and grabs Jarae by the wrist. She manages to aim and fire a single shot from her miniscule pocket pistol, striking a soldier's breast plate and denting it. The three men stuff themselves into the bushes, shooting back with their collection of wheellock pistols, stolen from Dian, and the crossbow pistols that Valan had gifted them. Meanwhile, the gunman pulls Jarae behind the bushes on the other side of the street. The Jaliscan stumbles and falls against him. Her ample breasts press into his chest and his arm slips around her waist, keeping her body pressed tightly against him. She stares into his eyes, the tip of her nose brushing his.

“We've got to get to the shoreline."

“B-but we're on the wrong side of the street."

“I'll start shooting, just follow my lead... We're going to be okay."

Hearing his words and the calm in his voice, the nerves of facing combat begin to subside. The nerves caused by his touch, however, make up for it. Trembling like a leaf, she can only nod her head. Removing the lanyard from his new pistol, he prepares it for firing, locking the ammunition bar into place.

“That's it! They're empty! Move in!" Kristoff orders.

Emerging from their places, rapiers and cutlasses in hand, the soldiers slowly march toward the bushes. Kirsta pops out to shoot another bolt from her crossbow pistol, as does Irzain, but both miss. The soldiers don't flinch, continuing to advance. Dashing out from the forest as if he hadn't a care in the world, Valan levels his new firearm. It's clear from the soldier's faces that they have no idea what it is or what he's doing.

Bang, bang, bang, bang! Valan fires over and over, startling the soldiers and killing two more outright. They stumble back and run, having never seen a weapon like his before. Following behind him, Jarae is quick to retrieve Valan's matching pistols from the street, keeping them close to her chest. Kirsta emerges from her hiding spot, a smug grin on her face as Kristoff and his remaining soldiers turn tail and run.

“That's was impressive, Va-"

“Get down!"

Lurching forward, Valan tackles Kirsta and pushes her down to the ground, while Jarae drops down onto her hands and knees. More of Captain Mayweather's soldiers emerge from behind them, firing wildly. They'd hidden themselves behind trees, when their comrades began their initial volley. The lead balls whizz by, missing both humans and the Jaliscan. With Kirsta lying on her back on the cobblestones, Valan raises to his knees and fires his last three rounds in quick succession. Equally horrified by a repeating firearm with no wheellock or match, the soldiers fall back. Two are killed by his expertly aimed shots.

Springing to his feet, Valan grabs Kirsta's arm and yanks her from the ground. The three of them race toward Steingar and Irzain, who continue to fire bolts from their crossbow pistols.

“You... You saved my life! I forgot all about the men behind us!" Kirsta glances to Valan as she pants, leaning against a tree with a forearm.

“We've got to get to shore." He says, ignoring her comment.

“Yeah. You scared them off, but they'll regroup and hunt us down." Steingar adds.

“Their ship is probably blocking the dock." Trellan remarks.

“I guess we know why Mairlynn and Draeolynn left." Jarae says as she uses a powder horn to reload Valan's pistols.

“They'll probably circle around." Irzain poses.

“Right. Let's find a clearing."

The group hastily reload their crossbow pistols while Steingar and Trellan get their bearings. Jarae approaches Valan, passing him his matching pistols, which need only to have the ignition caps added.

“Here." She speaks softly.

“Thank you." He smiles warmly at her.

“No, thank you. You saved me too, Valan."

Reaching out a hand, Valan rests it upon her shoulder. Jarae turns her head and glances at his hand, before turning her eyes toward him. She struggles to subdue her smile.

“You don't have to thank me... I'll always look out for you."

“Shit. I think they're coming back. Do you know where to go?" Irzain asks Steingar,

“This way!"

Racing through the jungle, they can hear the shouts of the soldiers behind them. A few shots ring out as the soldiers try in vain to stop the fleeing crew. It isn't long before they find themselves standing in a small clearing. A sheer, eight-foot cliff stands between them and the water's edge. Before they can panic, however, they're elated by the sight of the skiff, piloted by Mairlynn and racing around a corner. Waving their arms at the Falmun women, they steer the small craft toward them, turning down the spring powered motor to the lowest possible setting. Unfortunately, by design, it cannot simply be stopped, a feature Trellan designed to protect the massive spring.

“We'll have to jump when they come around." Steingar remarks.

“The boat isn't big enough for all of us to jump at once." Kirsta replies.

“Then they'll have to come back around for another pickup." Steingar shrugs.

“I'll stay. I've got loaded pistols; maybe I can hold them off." Valan offers without hesitation, setting the ignition caps in place.

“Me too! I'm reloaded!" Jarae chirps, holding up her own pistol.

“Alright then."

Kirsta and Irzain pass their crossbow pistols to Jarae, giving them as much of an advantage as possible. Valan passes his new weapon back to Irzain, who looks with confusion at the firearm.

“If we don't make it... I don't want the Crown to get their hands on it."

Irzain's heart sinks at the morbid thought, but he looks to Valan and nods, silently vowing to protect the new and powerful weapon. As the skiff comes toward the edge, moving at a steady pace of several knots, Steingar, Kirsta and Irzain jump from the short cliff. Trellan hesitates, moving toward the edge but failing to jump at the last second. Mairlynn turns the throttle, allowing the spring to vault the skiff to its full speed as she circles around again.

“What's wrong?" Jarae turns to Trellan.

“I-I don't like heights. I'm sorry."

“It's alright. Take these." She passes him the crossbow pistols.

“I think we're going to need them..." Valan murmurs.

The skiff makes a wide turn, the rudder not designed for complicated or precision maneuvers. With weapons in hand, the trio stand at the cliffside, waiting for the soldiers to emerge. They can hear them, their voices growing louder as they barrel through the jungle flora, eager to claim their prize. Glancing back, Trellan breathes a sigh of relief as Mairlynn turns down the throttle, slowing the skiff as much as possible. Before she can reach them, however, Captain Mayweather and his soldiers burst through the tree line, standing only yards away from the human, Jaliscan and elderly Vizhek.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn't have the chance. Valan and Jarae open fire, shooting their three rounds at more than two dozen armed and armored soldiers. Trellan unleashes his bolts a split-second later. Three more soldiers fall dead. The trio drop to the ground as the soldiers with loaded arquebus rifles open fire, the lead balls whizzing by. Turning back, they see their chance; the skiff is almost there. With rounds sporadically zooming past them, Valan, Jarae and Trellan rise to their feet, turn around, and jump from the cliff. They land with a hard thud in the boat, falling over each other.

“Go, go, go!" Steingar yells.

Turning up the throttle, Mairlynn pushes the skiff to its top speed once more. They race away from the island as Kristoff and his men look over the cliff. The young Captain growls as he watches his prey fleeing to the Arona-Dahl, which sits anchored and within view.

“Is everyone alright?!" Steingar looks over the crew.

“I'm alright." Jarae replies.

“Same." Valan says as he pats himself down, looking for wounds.

“Trellan isn't." Kirsta turns to them.

“What?! What's wrong?! Did he get hurt in the fall?!" Steingar asks, panic in his eyes.

“No... Urgh... They shot me..."

Fluid begins to pool on the floor of the skiff. Draeolynn lifts her feet, while Irzain and Kirsta roll Trellan over. Blood, nearly black in color, oozes from a hole in his lower back. Steingar lifts his clawed hands, resting them on either side of his head as he stares in horror at the old Vizhek's wound.

“Oh shit..."

“That's not good, is it?" Draeolynn looks up at the Helngar.