{"sf1_id":1655583,"sf2_id":"214lpRw1","title":"In The Mist Of The Erie Isles - Episode 53","author":"Mantrid_Brizon","words":3464,"posted_at":"2020-11-29T22:52:41.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Amphibian","Anger","Anthro","Cabbit","Cat","Character Development","Comedy","Dark","Depressing","Drama","Dream","Elf","Fantasy","Fear","Feline","Female","Furry","Human","Hybrid","Lizard","Love","Lust","Male","Never Seen Sex Act","Ocean","Pain","Plot Development","Prison","Reptile","Romance","Sad","Scalie","Sergal","Series","Ship","Story","Story Series"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1655583-in-the-mist-of-the-erie-isles-episode-53","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/214lpRw1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/24/50/2450eed1-7054-4351-9f24-2e3f0e68786c","description":"Episode 53: Lord Salman Donogew's fate is decided by the sinister Commander of the fortress prison. Meanwhile, Lutala begins to succumb to her anguish, which is only made worse when some of the crew inadvertently reveal their own pleasures.","content":"In The Mist Of The Erie Isles\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nBy Mantrid Brizon\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nEpisode Fifty-Three: ... Has Yet To Come\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nMarching through the dank corridor of the dungeon, the putrid stench of the unclean cells offends even the least sensitive of noses. An Elven guard winces as he glances toward his Helngar companion, who somehow maintains a professional demeanor, unflinching as he marches along, ignoring the foul air.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Doesn’t this bother you?” The shocked Vizhek asks, glancing toward the bloating corpse of a prisoner, left to rot after succumbing to starvation.\n\n“Of course.” The Helngar replies, retrieving his keyring. “But after a while you grow used to the stench of rot.”\n\n“I can’t see how...” The elf murmurs.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nReaching the cells at the end of the hall, the oldest and smallest of the lot, the Helngar slips the key into the lock.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Alright you, it’s time to g-... What are you doing?”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe human prisoner doesn’t respond. On his knees and with his hands clasped together, before his face, he faces what could be loosely described as a bed and murmurs to himself.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Hey, I asked you a question, inferior!” The Helngar growls as he yanks open the rusty, iron door.\n\n“I’m praying.” Salman finally replies.\n\n“To who?” The curious elf asks.\n\n“Yashuva.”\n\n“Who?!” The elf cocks his head. “Which Seraph is that?”\n\n“He isn’t a Seraph.” Salman replies.\n\n“It’s the god of that bizarre faith, the religion of the Lahnyt.” The Helngar tells his companion, grabbing Salman by a bicep and yanking him to his feet.\n\n“Why are you praying to the Lahnyt’s god?” The Vizhek scratches his head.\n\n“Yashuva is the creator of all; He loves all of His children, regardless of their parentage.” Salman answers.\n\n“Tell him we said ‘hello’.” The Helngar laughs. “Now move those weak legs of yours and try to keep up, you inferior human!”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe two guards, both standing well over six feet tall, drag the smaller Salman along like a parent drags a small child, marching through the hall and back toward the barracks. As they pass through a sturdy wooden door and into the courtyard of the fortress, the light of day strikes Salman’s skin. It’s nearly dusk, and though he’s only been imprisoned for several hours, it’s felt like days. Returning him to the commander’s quarters stationed beside the barracks, the guards stand at attention on either side of the human. The commander stares at a stone fireplace, standing as still as a statue with his clawed hands pulled behind his back. His long, tapering tail sways gently as he watches the crackling fire beneath a blackened kettle, smoke billowing from the cauldron, his glowing, blue eyes unmoving and unblinking.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“... Well?! Aren’t you going to ask why I called you back here so soon?!” The commander growls, his gaze fixated on the fire.\n\n“Apologies, Commander. I didn’t realize you wished for me to speak.” Salman replies.\n\n“Aren’t we polite.” The commander turns his head and stares at his prisoner. “You know, it’s actually quite refreshing to hear something other than screams or pleas for mercy; it becomes quite tiresome, all that begging!”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe guards chuckle and glance toward each other. Turning around and approaching his captive, the commander waves his men away. They release Salman’s arms and step back, remaining in the room and guarding the door.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“I’ve decided what I’m going to do with you!” The commander chirps, his tail swishing to one side as he leans against the edge of his desk. “I bet you’re so excited to know what I have planned for you.”\n\n“Oh, the anticipation is killing me...” Salman facetiously replies.\n\n“Hah! There’s the insolence I was hoping for. I always imagined a rebel would be... Well, rebellious! ... Anyway, I’ll tell you what happens next, Lord Donogew, or should I call you Salman?”\n\n“Prisoner is good enough.” Salman smirks.\n\n“Heh... You know, for a traitor, you have an interesting air about you. You’re quite likeable! I almost feel badly that I have to kill you... Almost.”\n\n“We all have our jobs to do.” Salman quips.\n\n“Luckily, it won’t be I who has to swing the sword or tie the noose, nor will it be any of my men. No, you require a special method of execution.”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nRaising up his hands, the commander’s amused grin begins to transform, growing sharper and more sinister. He flashes his teeth; his canines are quite large. He clasps his hands before his long, angular snout and clicks the tips of his claws together.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Have you heard of the medvyedii?”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSalman’s eyes grow wide, his audible gulp amusing the commander. The Helngar’s soft chuckle exposes his cruelty.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Well?!” He laughs aloud. “I asked you a question, ‘Prisoner’!”\n\n“Yes... I’ve heard of them.”\n\n“We just so happened to have captured one, while on a hunt for deer. The men haven’t had fresh meat in some time, you see. They’ve been too busy quashing your little rebellion, moving from island to island and destroying all those who dare join you in opposition to our Great King, Vashalak.”\n\n“Oh, those poor souls.” Salman facetiously remarks under his breath.\n\n“Indeed... I was sitting here, debating how to kill you, and it finally occurred to me, just as I began preparing a stew of fresh venison!” The commander points toward the kettle hanging over the fire. “Why not _also_ feed our new pet?! Not now, of course! It was quite easy to catch, so it likely ate a big meal before we found it. In a few days, though, when it’s good and hungry, then he’ll feed... I’d hate for it to leave any part of you behind; that’d be wasteful! I’m sure you understand.”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe guards in the background are unable to contain their laughter, and Salman can feel his heart pounding in his chest. The Medvyedii are powerful and fearsome beasts, and even the smallest of the young can easily kill a lone traveler before they’re even a month old. Found only on the largest of the isles, they’re more than a match for even a dozen hunters. His temperature rises as the fear consumes him. Even his newfound faith, as strong as it is, makes it difficult for him to hide his emotions; the commander and his men drink in his terror like a fine wine, basking in the psychological agony of their prisoner, who now knows and waits for his end to come.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Take him back to that hole you placed him in.” The commander turns his head and waves a hand, shooing Salman away.\n\n“Yes, sir!” The guards chirp.\n\n“And don’t bother to feed him. Just give him enough water to keep him alive for three or four days. Maybe six... Just until the Medvyedii is tearing at the door.”\n\n“Yes, sir! Come on, you inferior dog! Back to your cage!” The guards laugh, dragging Salman away.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nReturning him to his cell, they shove him inside, nearly hurling him into the cold, stone wall. Slamming the door shut and locking it, they taunt him for a moment before making their way down the hall, leaving the human to suffer, alone. As he rises from the filthy floor, covered in dust and the dried blood of the previous occupants, he once again finds himself on his knees. Clasping his hands together, he looks toward the faint trickles of orange light, which barely penetrates the tiny cracks of the boards that block the miniscule window near the ceiling.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Please, Yashuva... Forgive me for my misdeeds, and give me the strength to honor your Holy name. If I am to die, then I ask only that you watch over my brother and his friends. Keep your watchful eyes on them, and hold over them your hand of protection, especially for Lutala...”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe sighs, his voice shaking, both from his fear and his sorrow. As his eyes well up, he blinks and a tear streams down his face. Using a clean spot on the back of his hand to wipe it away, he takes a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“I wish I could’ve had more time with you, Lutala... I wish we could’ve been...”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nWith a gasp and a jolt, Lutala swiftly lifts her head. She’d fallen asleep at the small desk in the corner of her room, the place where she mixes her potions and experiments with potential cures. Lifting her hands, she rests them on either side of her head, her dark claws digging into her glossy, blue flesh as she stares at the wall.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“What a horrible dream... It was a dream, wasn’t it? ... Please, Yashuva, let it only be a dream.”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nRising to her feet, she pulls open her cabin door and bolts into the hall. The others have since fallen asleep, and only the soft glow of the strange, inset lights, which Trellan had built into the ceiling of the Arona-Dahl’s corridors and rooms, banish the darkness. Darting toward the lounge, which houses the closest onyx plate, she leans against the table near the corner.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Trellan? Are you there?” She asks in a soft voice.\n\n“I’m always here.”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nTrellan’s transparent, foot-tall image suddenly appears, standing atop the plate. The ghostly image, the projected spirit of the former Captain and builder of the unique ship, furls his brow at the sight of the Lahnyt priestess.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Are you alright, my dear? You look troubled.”\n\n“Yeah, I’m fine, I just... How much longer?”\n\n“Until?”\n\n“Until we get there... You know what I’m talking about!” She growls, an uncharacteristic harshness in her voice.\n\n“About a week.”\n\n“A week?!” She whimpers. “Can’t Arona go any faster?!”\n\n“The propulser is already running at full speed. If I push her any harder, she’s liable to break, and I’m still teaching Valan. Even if he had the knowledge to fix her, we might need a dry-dock to do it, and then we’d only have our sails. We’d be comparable to Galleons and Frigates, and those vessels aren’t exactly known for their speed.”\n\n“Rrrr!” Lutala backs away from the plate and whirls around. “Fine! Just get us there!” She pouts, crossing her arms beneath her ample bust.\n\n“What’s wrong? You’re not usually so...”\n\n“Not so what?” Lutala grumbles whilst staring at the floor.\n\n“Well... You don’t usually behave like Kirsta.” Trellan replies. “Did you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?”\n\n“It’s nothing...”\n\n“You aren’t acting like it’s nothing.”\n\n“I just!” She pauses and sighs, taking a moment to calm herself. “I had a bad dream...” She murmurs.\n\n“Did you wish to talk about it?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“Are you sure? I can keep a confidence.” He assures her.\n\n“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that... Well... It’s not a dream I’d like to relive.” She softly replies, taking a seat at the nearest booth.\n\n“Oh... I understand that, all too well, unfortunately. Was it about Roak, or Salman?”\n\n“Hm?!” She shifts her gaze toward the old elf’s ghostly image.\n\n“Oh, come now! Don’t pretend to be stupid or deaf, because I know that you’re neither. Are you regretting not treating Roak? I know how seriously you take the care of others. You’re a healer like no other; you actually value health over coin. What a concept!”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nLutala’s dark blue cheeks become even darker as she flushes. Though she’s been given many, she’s never grown used to the praises from her peers.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Hm... That’s unlikely, as you’d be voicing your regrets, perhaps even complaining about your fears of Salman and Naemen failing to treat him to your standards. Salman, then? I know you miss him. He’s a very kind man, something already unusual for a Lord, and he seemed to enjoy your company quite a bit, or at least that’s how it seemed, when he was aboard Arona. He was kind to you even before that day, when you pulled him from the ocean bottom, but after that... Hm... Were you even closer to him than I was led to believe?” Trellan cocks his head and flashes a strange little grin.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nTurning her head and focusing on the old Vizhek’s hologram, Lutala’s eyebrows, thick stripes of hairless, medium-orange flesh, soften with her sorrow. Her bottom lip quivers and her jaw opens as she tries to speak. No words escape her maw. She leaves her blocky snout agape as the old elf witnesses the extent of her emotions. With her eyes welling with tears, Lutala buries her face in her hands and weeps, her snout poking out, between her palms.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Oh, Salman!” She cries.\n\n“Well, that answers that question.” He murmurs to himself.\n\n“I miss him so much! I never thought it would be so hard!” She exclaims.\n\n“So, you _are_ closer than I thought.”\n\n“Not at first, but something happened... That day, when I dove in to save him... I found him on the bottom, struggling to hold his breath and tearing so frantically at his brother’s armor. He saw me as I swam closer, and my mere appearance eased him. I kissed him, and blew life into his lungs, air I’d siphoned through my nose.” She begins, wiping the tears from her eyes.\n\n“I’d heard the rumors about the Lahnyt, but I’ve never witnessed it. That’s quite a power you have, to breathe underwater.”\n\n“As we stood on the bottom, our lips pressed together, I saw his fear melting away. I looked into his eyes, and at first that was all I saw, but then as I helped him strip away the armor that held him down, I saw something else. There was so much more to him!”\n\n“Well...” Trellan gently clears his throat.\n\n“I didn’t mean that!” She sniffles. “What I saw was his heart. It’s as beautiful as the rest of him. I don’t know if I can explain it... There was something inside of him that was so innocent, so pure. It was worth saving.”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nShe pauses for a moment to calm herself, breathing deeply, her chest heaving.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“He held on to me and I helped him remove his armor before bringing him to the surface. He was so grateful, but his fear had affected him. When he came to me and asked about my faith, I didn’t think he was serious. Most aren’t, especially at first, but this was different. He listened to me, read my scrolls and tomes, asked many questions, and always with a light in his eyes. It was that same innocence, that same raw passion I saw in him when he was standing on the bottom. Even when faced with death, it was there. When he’d learned most of what I could teach him, he came back to sit with me. He had no reason to do so. He seemed to enjoy my company. When we returned to Mishgan, I knew something between us had changed. A bond had developed, a connection unlike any I’d ever felt before... But then we rescued the Princess, Lapira...”\n\n“And that bond faded?” The enthralled Trellan asks.\n\n“I wasn’t sure if it did or not. All I knew for certain was that what I was feeling was far more personal than anything I’d ever felt before. It wasn’t just lust for an attractive man. I knew that feeling, as it was one of the very reasons I fled to Owegal when I was in training; I didn’t want my natural desires for men to corrupt me. This was different, and I knew because Salman seemed to have a similar bond with Lapira. I saw it right away, and I was so upset. I can honestly say that I was heartbroken; I felt my heart in my chest as it tore in two. He behaved with her the way that I wanted him to behave with me!” She sniffles, once again covering her face with her hands.\n\n“I see...”\n\n“Even though he let Lapira go, and even though he didn’t ever seem to forget me, I was so angry with him. He came to me the night before we set sail for Ogrodin. He admitted his past with her, and I was crushed. He asked me if I would give him time, because he also claimed to feel something for me. He told me that he wanted with me what he once had with her, and I was overcome with rage. I pushed him away and convinced myself that all of my feelings were just the strongest lust I’d ever felt. ‘You just want his sleek body and his large manhood’ I said to myself.”\n\n“Oh my!” Trellan’s face flushes and he turns his head away.\n\n“But after all this time apart, I can’t get him out of my mind. I thought that leaving him behind would make it easier, but all it did was prove to me that this isn’t lust... I love him, Trellan. I love Salman, and I miss him. I fear that something terrible might happen to him, and I will live a lonely life without him, regretting my decision to leave him behind. I hate myself for turning my back. I just wish I could retrieve the sands of time, go back to that day we left Mishgan, and stay by his side.”\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nAs Lutala finishes her heartfelt rant, she rests her head atop her forearms, leaning over the table. She stares at the wall with a dull, almost lifeless expression, several more tears streaming down her cheeks. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away. Her fiery eyes don’t even appear as vibrant, as if her moroseness had softened their colors. It breaks Trellan’s heart, and for the first time in a long while, he feels the urge to weep.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“I’ll tell you what...” He finally begins. “Just for you, I’ll get a little lost after we collect Harokian. We can pass by Mishgan, and when we do, you can recognize it and ask me to let you off. I won’t say ‘no’.”\n\n“Really?!” She perks up, lifting her head and flashing an excited grin.\n\n“Really. I’ll even give you a hint that we’re near, with some comment about the weather. Far be it from me to stop you from returning to the man who may be your true love.” He smiles back.\n\n“Oh, thank you, Trellan! I never thought you’d be so generous!” She remarks.\n\n“Why do all of you keep underestimating me? I built Arona _and_ constructed the device that allows my spirit to speak to you from the soul shard. Do you not think my heart could be as large as my brain?”\n\n“Aren’t we prideful.” She remarks with a soft giggle, her grin contorting with amusement.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nAs she makes her way from the lounge and through hall, heading back to her room, a door quietly opens. Stopping in her tracks only feet from the lounge’s archway, Lutala is stunned as she witnesses Mairlynn emerging from a room that is not her own. Quietly closing the door behind her, the little Falmun gently pats the wooden barrier, a strange smile on her face. She turns, her back facing the Lahnyt, and walks down the hall, a little hobble in her step. She never notices the priestess, who watches in silence. The bow-legged Mairlynn disappears into her room and closes the door.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nMoving slowly down the hall, Lutala’s brow raises in shock. The dainty elf has just left Irzain’s room! Realizing what must have occurred, a brief moment of amusement is swiftly eradicated by jealousy. It’s not Irzain that the humble priestess desires, but the act itself. Every time she witnesses Valan and Jarae cuddling and kissing, it makes her heart ache. When she learned what was troubling Kirsta, the truth made her spirit burn. Why did she ever leave Salman behind? She could’ve easily masked her intentions and claimed that she was staying to treat Roak, whose mind was so damaged from Hirus’ torture.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nWith her frustration once again morphing into sorrow, Lutala drags her feet as she returns to her cabin. As she sits atop her bed, her hands resting at the edge, she bows her head and stares at her feet. Her dark, nearly black flesh, smooth and glossy, glows so softly in the amber light of the ceiling fixture. She takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh, a single tear escaping one of her fiery eyes as it runs down her cheek, leaving a glistening streak.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n“Soon...” She speaks to herself, wiping the tear away with the back of her hand. “I _will_ see you again, Sal. No matter what...”","series":{"name":"Series: In The Mist Of The Erie Isles","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1642777-in-the-mist-of-the-erie-isles-episode-52.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1655585-in-the-mist-of-the-erie-isles-episode-54.json"}}