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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Fifty-Four: Consorting With Beasts

The footfalls echo throughout the long, dark corridor. The subtle clanking of the soldier’s armor and the flickering of the ensconced torches helps fill the void of silence. Being pulled along by his biceps, the weaken and weary Salman stares at the cracked stones of the cold floor beneath his feet. True to his word, the Commander kept food from him, allowing the Lord of Mishgan to starve for a full seven days. He wasn’t even given a steady supply of water, left with only two filled buckets which the Lord had to ration. All he had were his thoughts and prayers.

Without any light or social stimulation, his captivity has felt far longer, and though he’s being pulled toward his doom, the silent company of the guards and the subtle change in scenery is a welcomed relief. His heart races, however, when a roar echoes throughout the dungeon.

“Is that it?” Salman speaks with a weakened voice.

“Startling, isn’t it?!” The Vizheki guard chuckles.

“Not much longer now, inferior.” The Helngar chirps.

“H-how big is it?” Salman asks.

“Big enough.” The Helngar smirks.

“I think he wanted to know how we got it in here.” The Vizhek remarks.

“Oh! Well, that was easy! This fortress was built over many others that came before it – hills make wonderful perches for a fortress – and the original dungeon was merely a cave system. Iron bars were placed over the openings centuries ago. When this fortress was constructed, we added a proper dungeon, but kept the cave system attached. When we found the Medvyedii wandering near our hunting grounds, we lured it in through a tunnel leading outside and closed the gates behind it.”

“Those poor soldiers...” The Vizheki guard murmurs.

“Those ‘soldiers’ were nothing more than captured inferiors. Pathetic humans and those filthy Jaliscans... Ugh! Don’t feel badly for them. They made good bait, and I’m sure the Medvyedii enjoyed them!” The Helngar laughs.

“They may have been nothing more than bastards of the inferior whores, but they were still servants of the Crown.”

“In that case, so is he; he can serve as food for the Crown’s new pet!”

Both guards share a sadistic cackle. Turning a corner, the trio find themselves facing a large, rusty gate. The bars are bent in several places, as though a giant arm has forced its way through. Blood stains the floor near the door and is splattered around the box that houses the lock and keyhole. Even in the dark, the putrid, brown gunk is easily distinguishable from the rust. The Helngar releases Salman’s arm, and the weakened human falls against the Vizhek, who cradles him.

“Alright... I’ll unlock the door and pull it open, and you shove him in.” The Helngar speaks with a sense of urgency.

“It’s a shame it’s only a juvenile.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” The Helngar says, carefully slipping the large key into the hole.

“If it was an adult, it wouldn’t fit through the door!” The Vizhek chuckles.

“SHH!!! ... It might hear you.”

Salman turns his head and stares in shock and horror. How large is an adult medvyedii?! The door is wide enough for three people standing shoulder to shoulder, and eight feet high, considerably taller than either of the guards, both of whom are at least six-foot-four.

“On three... One... Two... Three!”

The Helngar turns the key and the bolt loudly clanks. He gives the door a yank, rust and dried blood creating a faint cloud of rancid vapor as he jumps backward, pulling the door along with him. With quite a heave, the Vizhek hurls Salman into the room. He stumbles along the floor and falls just beyond the door, which the Helngar quickly pushes closed. CLANK! He locks the door, leaving the human alone, sealed in with the ravenous beast. He trembles with fear, but only for a moment. Feeling his end drawing near, a strange calm overwhelms him. He recalls a verse from the Holy Tome.

“Fear not in the darkness, for the Lord, Yashuva, is the bringer of light. Weep not in your loneliness, for the Lord, Yashuva, never abandons you. He stays by His children and remains closer than a sibling.” Salman speaks aloud.

Soft thuds grow louder as something large and heavy steps on the earthen floor of the dank cave. With his weary muscles barely able to function, ravaged by hunger, thirst and a cell too small and uncomfortable to allow proper sleep, Salman struggles to push himself up. He finds himself on his knees, looking into the darkness, beyond the oblong pattern of amber light, formed from the torches along the walls of the corridor behind him. Pat, pat, pat. The footfalls draw ever closer. The calm envelopes him, and Salman closes his eyes. Bringing his hands to his face, he gives them a shake and prepares his muscles. He clasps his hands together, holding them tightly and resting his thin, pointy nose along the knuckles of his index fingers.

“I have not served you long, Yashuva, but I hope I served you well. Please watch over my brother, Valan, and his friends. Please, merciful Yashuva, watch over Lutala. Safeguard them. Protect them in my absence.”

A strange sound barely breaks his concentration. The low grumbling grows louder, as do the footfalls. Salman continues to pray, giving Yashuva a final word of praise. He stops only when he feels hot breath upon his face. The raspy sound, like a large man suffering from pneumonia, is as unpleasant as the stench of rotten meat, which seems to follow the creature. He certainly couldn’t smell it before it approached. His long, flowing hair, filthy from his cell, flutters with the wind created by the creature’s putrid breath. Slowly opening his eyes, Salman is startled. It is not the sight of the creature that shocks him, but his lack of concern. Where has his fear gone?!

“Well, aren’t you something.” He speaks to the creature.

It stands on four legs and is as large as the door to the cave. The juvenile medvyedii peels its lips back, revealing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Four of these teeth, similarly placed to a human’s canines, are long and fanglike, two of which are curled like tusks. They glisten in the light. Glowing, red eyes reveal a fiery, even maniacal stare. It’s as if the creature has become insane with rage. It roars, throwing back Salman’s hair like a powerful wind. Chuckling to themselves as the deafening cry echoes throughout the hall, the two guards glance at each other.

“That’ll teach him to stand against us.” The Helngar snickers.

“Now we just need to find his friends.” The Vizhek remarks.

“Sal!” Lutala exclaims, jolting awake.

Opening her fiery eyes and sitting up in her bed, her chest heaves as she gasps and pants for air. Her smooth, dense hide, so colorful and vibrant, glistens in the amber light from a thin layer of sweat. Once again, her dreams were filled with fear. Every night, for the past week, she’s seen her beloved Salman, suffering in a cold, dank cell and awaiting his execution. So consistent are these dreams that she’s certain they are not fabrications of her mind, but a second sight. Has Yashuva chosen to show her these awful images? She rests a clawed hand upon her chest, nestling it between her large breasts.

She winces as she covers her heart. It stings, like an icy hand has reached into her chest and taken hold of the organ. It’s the pain of the prospect of losing Salman, a sorrow for his loss, though she hopes these visions won’t come true. Unable to return to sleep, she pulls the blanket from her glossy legs and rises to her feet. Her toe-claws click on the wooden floorboards as she shifts, reaching for her clothing, placed in a tidy pile atop her nearby nightstand. She pulls on her robes, covering her nude form, and walks toward the porthole. Peering outside, the sky is as black as coal. How long until the sunrise?

They’re nearly at Bural, the isle where Cydren, Okolana, and their ward, Harokian, were sent to live. Heading for her cabin door, Lutala decides to head for the lounge. Perhaps she will enjoy a late-night or early-morning snack, and speak with Trellan? The spirit of the elderly Vizhek has become quite a comfort to her. On her way toward the lounge, she passes the doors of her companions. Only silence can be heard from the other rooms, as all are surely sleeping, but she pauses when she nears Irzain’s door. She turns her head and listens as the faint voices emanate from the cabin.

“Ahh-ahh-harder! Ahh-yeah!” Mairlynn’s shrill voice cries out.

“Shh! Nngf. Try not to, nngf, be so loud.” Irzain replies.

“I’m sorry, baby. Ahh-yeah! It’s just, ahh, so good!”

With a little growl, the frustrated Lutala feels a rush of jealousy. Why didn’t she stay behind on Mishgan? Perhaps, had she remained, she would be enjoying Salman’s companionship? After quickly shaking her head, as if to force the thoughts out through her hearing ports, she continues her journey to the lounge, now determined to drink a tankard or two of wine.

“Hello, again, Lutala. How are we tonight?” Trellan’s hologram appears over the onyx plate mounted in the corner.

“Rrmm...” She grumbles.

“That good, eh?” He chuckles.

“Not today, Trellan. My spirits are lower than usual.” She says with a soft sigh.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He politely asks.

“I, uhm... No, I suppose not. It’s a long story...” She says, pouring herself a tankard of wine.

“So? I have the time to spare.” He chirps.

“You ask me every night... Do you really wish to know?” She asks, turning her fiery eyes toward the ghostly image.

With his smile ever present, Trellan nods his head.

“Fine... It all started with that first dream, a week ago...” She reluctantly begins.

Her head bobs up and down, moving to a steady rhythm. With her mouth filled with his manhood, she hums and coos. He sighs and turns his head, groaning from the raw pleasure. Opening his eyes, Irzain slowly glances down and looks upon the beauty of the lovely Boala. The Helngarian woman, whom he met some time ago, while on the isle of Bremen, gleefully attends to his manhood. She works with all the vigor he remembers from the first and only night they'd spent together. He sighs and lies his head back, marveling at her skills. Unable to resist, he looks down once again, his eyes scanning her form.

Boala, with her shimmering black and white, two-tone fur, which is as soft as down feathers, turns her vibrant, glowing eyes toward him. The yellow-orange glow does not startle him, but as her hands stroke his impressive shaft, something causes him to jump. The Helngar’s hand, which is naturally larger than his own, as her entire race towers over the humans, has suddenly shrunk! Though already dainty for a Helngar, it’s now absurdly tiny, being far smaller than his own hand. Her forearm and wrist taper to match its new dimensions.

Her deformed, little hand fondles his large and full testicles, cupping them so lovingly. Unnerved, he shakes his head. The Scribe begins to stir. He opens his weary eyes, finally awakening from his dream. However, the pleasure that he felt during the night-fantasy hasn’t disappeared with the visions. Instead, it's only grown more intense. He lifts his head and looks down with wide eyes, startled by the truth. The diminutive, four-foot-nine Mairlynn gleefully fondles his testicles with one hand, while her other hand, so small and delicate, wrangles the base of his girthy shaft.

He's far too thick for her fingertips to touch her thumb, nor does the width of her hand cover even a third of the length of his erect and throbbing penis. Meanwhile, her tongue eagerly caresses the entirety of the shaft of his swollen manhood. Her lips envelope the bulbous head of his member before quickly popping off.

“SlrrrPP! Ahh!” She sighs with delight, her dainty hands skillfully stroking his manhood. “Oh! Hello, there!” She grins from cheek to cheek.

“Wha-... What’re you doing?” He can barely choke out, overcome by the pleasure that she brings him.

“Oh, nothing!” She closes her eyes and lets out an innocent giggle. “I see you've finally awoken!” She chirps, the purest of smiles on her face, a trickle of drool bridging the gap between her lips and his member.

“Mair?! Why are you in my cabin?!” He asks, lifting his torso up and supporting himself on his elbows.

“I came in to look at you. I do that often! I slipped inside your room with my special key and I quickly noticed this big thing lying unattended. It was turning your blanket into a tent, and I couldn't resist. You can imagine my surprise when I decided to make him feel appreciated, and you didn't immediate wake up!” She giggles, suddenly using both of her hands to wrangle his exceptionally large phallus.

“And you just thought you'd help yourself?!” He furls his brow with a combination of confusion and ire, only to close his eyes as she begins to thoroughly stroke him. “Nnn... I, uhm, I lock my door for a reason.” He struggles to speak, overcome by her ministrations.

“Aww, come on! I deserve a reward, don't I?!” She whines and stomps a little foot on the floor, her hands never slowing their pace.

“Huh?! For what?!”

“I mean, I cleaned up Kirsta's vomit this morning!”

“... What?!” He blinks, struggling to comprehend her logic.

“Look, Irzain, we both know you wanted me, earlier. I showed you my body and you didn't turn away or cringe, like you used to. You stared, even as I stepped closer! You reached out and touched my breast, and you liked it! I saw how this big thing grew in those trousers. You probably thought I didn't notice, but I did.”

“Oh... I-I, uhm... I didn't realize.” His cheeks flush from his embarrassment.

“It's alright.”

After a brief pause, she continues to pleasure the Scribe, leaning in and kissing the head of his penis before once again swirling her tongue around the tip. He flattens out atop his bed, unable to stop her, yet unwilling to open his mouth. However, he glances down at the dainty Falmun, taking in the elven woman's form. Her sleek little body, her lightly tanned skin, her wavy, golden locks and vivid, ruby eyes. She turns her head and looks up at him. As she deliberately bats her eyelashes at him, her lips stretched and cheeks puffed, her mouth filled with his manhood, he cannot help but overlook how young she appears. Her condition, which has frozen her appearance decades before it should have, gives the forty-five-year-old elf the appearance of a barely adult girl.

“I'm sorry! This is just too strange!” He says, abruptly sitting up.

A startled Mairlynn straightens her back and stands as tall as the tiny female can, using the back of a hand to wipe the spittle from her thin, pink lips.

“What's wrong?!” She asks, disappointment in her voice.

“You just... Well... It's...” He stammers, unable to find a polite way of sharing his feelings.

“It's my appearance, isn't it?” Her expression changes.

“... Yes.”

“RRRR! I’m so sick and tired of this! I didn't ask to look so young! I didn't choose this! Please, in the name of the Seraph's in heaven, I just want this to stop!” She cries out.

Irzain sits upright, covering his damp manhood with his overturned blanket. Mairlynn turns her back to him and crosses her arms beneath her small bust.

“I just want affection. Is that so wrong?” She begins, speaking very softly, a quiver in her voice. “We're the same age, Irzain. You know this. Decades of living like this, and all it's brought me is pain. I just want affection. Can't you see that? Can't you just, for one moment, put yourself in my place and consider how lonely my life can be? I'm a woman, and I have needs, but no one wants to tend to them!” She whirls around, pointing a finger at her chest. “I came to you to fulfill them, and you break my heart like this! How many times must I be humiliated?! If I looked like every other woman, and not like a girl on the cusp of her womanliness, you wouldn't even hesitate, would you?!”

The tears stream down the elf's cheeks as she begins to cry. Irzain bows his head in shame, only to realize how absurd the feeling is. She invaded his room, while he slept, and awoke him with her indecent behavior. However, as he shifts his eyes to gaze upon Mairlynn's features, he once again feels nothing but shame and guilt.

“I just wish you would see past my looks. I wish all of you would do that and take me more seriously.” Mairlynn adds with a sniffle.

She turns her back and heads for his door, and Irzain feels the overwhelming guilt. He closes his eyes and cringes at the thought but allows it to persist.

“Wait.” He suddenly calls out, just as her hand grasps the latch.

She glances over her shoulder and sniffles once more.

“What?”

“... Alright.” He speaks softly.

“Alright, what?” She turns around to face him, wiping a tear away.

Without speaking another word, Irzain grabs the edge of the blanket and pulls it away, exposing himself to the dainty Falmun. Her ruby eyes light up and a toothy smile spreads on her face.

“You mean?!”

“Yeah...” He nods his head once.

Her bare feet patter so softly as she dashes over to his bedside, only to pause and her hurt expression to return.

“You aren't trying to trick me, are you?” She suddenly asks.

“No, now get up here before I change my mind.” He says with an increased sternness.

“Yay!” She exclaims, once again looking so excited.

She nearly rips her cloak from her body as she pulls it open to reveal her nude form beneath. Dropping it softly to the ground, a hard object gently thuds on the floor. She clambers up and onto the bed before he even knows what's happening. With the small elven woman straddling him, she rests her hands upon his chest and eases him until he lay flat upon his back. He admires her form, which has, as of late, begun to appear more feminine. Her breasts seem to have grown, and her hips and waist are even more shapely. Perhaps this won't be as strange as he's told himself it would be?

He stares at her groin and the golden forest of pubic hairs that cover her womanhood. With the happiest of smiles, she slowly presses her nether lips against the underside of his thick, throbbing shaft. Mairlynn rubs her burning hot and dripping wet loins along his manhood, her pussy making a slick and subtle smacking sound as she grinds her flesh against his, like the licking of lips.

“Oh, thank you, Irzain. This will be a night you won't soon forget. I can promise you that... She's quite small, as you can imagine, and as big as you are, well... We're both in for a treat.” The dainty Falmun coos, biting her bottom lip as she struggles to contain her rapture.

“Okay, but Mair?”

“Yeah?” She turns her ruby eyes to meet his gaze.

“This never leaves this room.” He sternly instructs.

“As you wish, stud. So long as I can have you.”

“I mean it, Mair! This stays between us, okay?!” He reiterates.

“I said I won't tell anyone, big guy!” She giggles, grinding against him a little harder.

Planting a foot atop his bed, she rises from his lap. Reaching between her spindly legs, she takes hold of his girthy manhood and lifts the heavy organ, pointing the bulbous head of his penis right for her eager nether lips.

“Mmm-yeah...” She coos.

Irzain rests his head atop the pillow, his breathing quickening as the elf uses the large head of his manhood to rub against her vaginal opening. Is she preparing herself to take in the substantial organ, teasing him, or both?

“Now just lie back and relax while I get us started.” She adds, slowly lowering herself.

With a firm push, Irzain can feel the elf's nether lips spreading apart. Wider and wider, they open for him. Suddenly, the little elf drops down and with an audible 'schlop', her vagina swallows the head of his penis and swiftly clamps down onto the shaft beneath it.

“NNYAAH!” Mairlynn cries out, unable to stay quiet.

“RRRR-DAMN!” Irzain equally struggles. “Ooohhh! By the Seraphs!”

His emerald eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He lifts his head and glances down, looking at a wondrous sight. Mairlynn's nether lips are spread far apart, his member almost filling the space betwixt her slender legs. The dainty woman shivers as her vaginal canal struggles to adapt to his size. Slowly but surely, she lowers herself down, taking more and more of Irzain's well-endowed penis into her body. He rests his hands on her hips, a little smile gracing his face. She's so hot, so wet, and so tight! Truly, she has a remarkable body! Is that a bulge he sees in her belly, forming around his invading manhood?!

He throws his head back as Mairlynn suddenly leans forward. Placing her hands atop his chest, she drops her body down. Plop! Her slender legs slam against his toned thighs, her pelvis bangs against his groin, and her tight, little buttocks smooshes against his large, swollen balls, which seem to burrow into the crack of her taut butt.

“AHH!” She squeals, her ruby eyes rolling back in her head.

“Oh, yes! Oh, Mair!” He groans, his hands now eagerly exploring her sleek body. “You were right, Mair. This is incredible; I will never forget how good you feel.”

“Mmmm-and we've only just started.” She coos, her body contorting as she leans even further forward.

In a matter of moments, the dainty elf begins licking and kissing his neck whilst her body moves with the skill of a trained concubine. How can this be?! She seemed so desperate, so innocent, and so sweet, but once they began their carnal passion, she revealed another side of herself, one he'd never imagined. Irzain slowly begins to feel as though he's out of his league with such a woman. Up and down, back and forth, she rocks and swivels her hips as she moves, gyrating with his large penis stuffed deep inside of her taut body. It's as if she was born to pleasure men, knowing everything necessary to make their passion last.

It feels like an eternity of pleasure before Irzain reaches the precipice, and though the little elf enjoyed several orgasms before him, she handled them well. Even after Irzain finished, unleashing a torrential wave of his seed within her loins, she continued to move, pushing out much of what he gave her with harder and longer bounces. Her appetite was far from satiated. She stayed with him for much of the night and ensured that he used her no less than three times before they both finally succumbed to their exhaustion. The pair finally awoke just before the break of dawn, a fact that Mairlynn confirmed with her Leinehn egg, the golden, cylindrical watch which has become her favorite trophy. She'd left it in a pocket of her cloak.

“Last night was wonderful, wasn't it? I told you that you'd never forget it.” She cooed, setting the clock aside before wrapping her slender arms around her lover's neck and nuzzling his face.

“Yeah...” He murmured.

“You, uhm... You don't sound so sure about that.” Her expression changed as she pulled away, examining his facial features.

“It's just...”

“What's wrong?” She asked as she sat up in bed.

“It's nothing.” He replied, sitting up beside her.

“It doesn't sound like 'nothing'. Not to be too pushy, but once you've stuffed your big, fat manhood so deep inside of a woman that your balls were indistinguishable from her ass, and once you've released your seed inside of her body, you owe that woman answers to her questions. What's wrong?”

“Fair enough... I just never thought I would do what we did with someone who looks so...”

“Don't start with that.” The youthful looking Falmun glared at him.

“You have to admit, it's hard not to think about how odd it must look, you and I. How... Uhm... How young you...” He hesitated to finish his statement.

“We had great sex last night and don't you dare deny it!” She angrily exclaimed, her voice quivering as if she were about to cry. “Just because I look like this, it doesn't mean I'm not a woman! You spent half of the night inside of me, and you're still carrying on about that?!” She became more distraught and melancholy the more she spoke.

“I'm sorry.” He quickly leaned over and embraced her, giving the forty-five-year-old Falmun a tight squeeze. “I struggle with that, but I don't mean to hurt you. I don't want to see you cry. You were right, Mair. Please...”

“So then... You don't regret it?” She asked with a little sniffle.

“No. You were right. It was wonderful, but I'd still like to keep this between us. I, uhm... I like privacy, especially in these matters, as relationships can... Complicate things.”

“Oh! So, we can do it again?!” Her ruby eyes lit up and a wide, toothy grin spread across her face.

“Yes, we can do it again, as often as you'd like.” He said, returning her smile.

“Yay!” She cheered, latching onto his torso and squeezing with surprising strength. “Oh! But I'd better get to my room, if we're going to keep this private.”

Releasing her lover and rolling out of bed, Mairlynn immediately winced upon her little feet hitting the floor. She steadied herself, a hand on the edge of his bed, and stood motionless for a moment.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sliding toward her.

“I'm fine.” She slowly opened her eyes, turning her ruby orbs toward him. “I'm just a little sore. She's not used to so much attention, let alone from someone so... Ample.” She winked.

Irzain's face flushed. He sat in silence as the dainty Falmun gathered her cloak, covered her body, retrieved her Leinehn egg and once again slipped out of his room. After that night, the pair have had regular relations. The Scribe was quite surprised by the level of energy and the appetite that his elven lover has; she's visited him every single night for the past week, seeking more of his attention and demanding rougher and more energetic sex. However, this only made him sleep easier. Waking up once again, he lay on his side, gazing upon the elven woman as she sleeps in his arms. He cannot help himself and kisses her cheek, causing her to stir.

“Mmmm-aren't we the romantic.” She says through a stretch, slowly opening her eyes.

“What can I say? I'm affectionate. I have a lot of love to give.” He smirks.

“I'll say.” She coos, her ruby orbs shifting as she looks toward his groin.

As she returns her gaze toward her lover, the pair find themselves staring into each other’s eyes for a startling length of time. Slowly leaning his head closer, Irzain rests his forehead against hers, then gives her a soft kiss upon her lips.

“Ahem, well...” A flushing and somewhat nervous looking Mairlynn clears her throat. “H-how about I get back to my room?”

With a little nod, he sits up and takes his arm away from the Falmun woman, who rolls over and dangles her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet barely reach the floor.

“Damn... I think it may be too late for that.”

“Hm?”

Mairlynn first turns her head and glances over her shoulder, only to see a worried Irzain pointing toward the porthole. She turns her attention to the round, watertight window, only to gasp and cover her mouth. The dawn is approaching, the sun already peeking over the ocean's waves.

“Oh, no! Uhm... How about breakfast, then?” She suggests.

“What?!”

“We can beat the others there and act as though we awoke at the same time.”

“But we won't have time to clean ourselves, and we probably smell like... Well...”

“We'll claim laziness. For me that's quite believable, and with your recent training, you always smell like sweat. Do you think they'd question it? ... ... Do you have a better idea?!”

“No.”

“Then let's go! Quickly!”

She pushes his side and directs him off the bed. Irzain and Mairlynn swiftly dress themselves, already able to hear stirring in the cabin beside his own. The duo promptly and quietly head for the lounge, only to hear familiar voices coming from within. They enter the lounge, and to their horror and embarrassment, Lutala is already there, speaking with Trellan’s spirit.

“It was so hard to see him like that.” Lutala’s whimpering voice remarks.

“It’s curious that it progressed even further.” Trellan thinks aloud.

“Yes. I just hope it doesn’t mean what my heart tells me it means.” She adds.

“Perhaps these visions are merely you trying to-. Oh! Hello!” Trellan turns his attention toward the pair as they enter the lounge.

“Erm... Hi.” Mairlynn speaks softly, raising a hand and waving her fingers at the Lahnyt, and the ghostly, foot-tall image of the Vizhek.

“H-how are you two?” Irzain asks.

Lutala sighs and slumps back in her seat. After glancing toward the priestess, Trellan returns his attention toward the duo who stand in the archway, holds out a hand and wobbles it back and forth. The pair step into the lounge and pass by Lutala, and the onyx plate which bears Trellan's image. Why is Lutala already awake?! They had no idea anyone would be in the lounge so early in the morning. Mairlynn turns her ruby eyes toward Irzain, who stands beside her in the galley, looking as though he'd seen a Seraph.

“Are you alright?” She leans close and asks in a whisper.

“Uh, yeah... How are you this morning?” He asks, a strange, worried tone in his voice.

“You know the answer to that.” She quietly giggles.

As they prepare themselves plates of food and tankards of wine, the rest of the crew slowly trickle in. Kirsta shuffles her feet, a hand resting upon her toned belly. She enters the lounge without nary a word, her mind a thousand miles away. She enters the galley and ignores both Mairlynn and Irzain, even though they greet her. The pair breathe a silent sigh of relief. Kirsta is swiftly followed by Valan and Jarae, who now share a room and a bed. Having declared their love for one another, the human and his Jaliscan lover are exceedingly public about their relationship, always making their food together, always sitting beside each other every morning, and always working, training, relaxing and playing together.

As Irzain and Mairlynn exit the galley with their meals, Valan and Jarae greet the pair. Partway through Jarae's humble sentence, the cat-like woman pauses, her long, pointy, rabbitesque ears shifting as her feline nose twitches. She furls her brow, her shimmering, pink eyes darting between the middle-aged human and his youthful looking, elven companion. Though she doesn't speak a word, her mouth slowly opens, and a strange smile graces her face. As Irzain begins to blush and Mairlynn merely smiles back, Jarae's expression changes. She seems to abruptly realize that her visible though silent amusement is upsetting the Scribe.

Clearing her throat, Jarae nods her head at both Mairlynn and Irzain, before allowing them to pass. As they step around the couple, who walk hand-in-hand into the galley, Irzain can hear Jarae softly giggling and whispering to her lover. He gulps and his palms grow damp. As he and Mairlynn reach one of the two tables, she quickly slides into the booth before looking at Irzain rather expectantly. As he ponders whether to sit beside the Falmun, the last of the crew joins them in the lounge. Steingar, the still living and acting Captain of the Arona-Dahl, yawns and stretches his powerful muscles.

He wears only his black trousers. The Helngar scratches his black claws through the burnt orange fur of his bare chest, the slate gray fur that covers his arms and sides bristling as he shifts his body from side to side. His glowing, golden eyes scan the room as the shirtless Helngar steps further inside. His long, tapering tail sways, swishing softly through the air as he waves at the others, starting with Trellan's spirit. A softly chuckling Valan and Jarae emerge from the lounge and greet the Helngar.

“Well, you two are in good spirits! Did you have a nice romp beneath the sheets?” He teases Valan.

“Oh, not us.” Valan swiftly replies.

Jarae gently elbows his side, pushing some of the air from his lungs. Irzain's blood runs cold. Steingar furls his brow and begins to approach the galley, only to glance toward Irzain, who still stands beside the seated Mairlynn.

“Ready to put that new training to good-.”

Steingar pauses mid-sentence, only to smell the air. He closes his eyes and winces, then turns his head away.

“Wash... Please...” He speaks in a low grumble.

“Uhm, w-why? I-I mean, what?!” Irzain stammers.

“You smell like a brothel in mid-summer.” Steingar lifts a clawed hand and covers the nostrils at the forefront of his long, angular snout.

“Spoken like a man with experience.” Mairlynn coolly retorts.

“You can tell?!” Irzain whimpers.

“We weren't going to say anything.” Jarae remarks.

“She wasn't. I was going to clandestinely mock you until you 'came clean', so to speak.” Valan teases.

“Darling!”

“Please, while I still have the strength to ask you nicely. I can smell her all over you, and Mair reeks of... Fluids... Wash... Don't make me throw you overboard.” Steingar growls.

“Fine!” Mairlynn slides out of her seat. “Come on, big guy. I'll sponge you off. I'll be very thorough!”

“Ugh...” Kirsta grimaces.

Mairlynn takes the plate from Irzain, setting it atop the table before leading the thoroughly embarrassed and horrified man away from the group, some of whom now openly chuckle. True to her word, Mairlynn leads Irzain to her own cabin, where the pair wash each other with her washcloths and water basin. After tending to her womanhood, she takes great care in the cleaning his manhood, just as she said she would. Upon returning to the lounge, they find the others well on their way to finishing their meals and laughing about the bizarre couple.

“Well, now that you're halfway presentable, have a seat.” Steingar motions toward their unattended plates.

“And use the cushion, not his lap.” Jarae teases the Falmun.

“I save that for after dark.” Mairlynn retorts, winking at the Jaliscan.

“Alright, alright! We're all here... Finally! So, what we need to do now is decide how we're going to proceed. According to Irzain's scroll with the funny, enchanted ink, Bural is the isle where Harokian and his guardians were sent to live. Now, we must assume that Vashalak, the clever bastard that he is, could learn what we've learned. At the very least, his hunt for us, and those damned bounties on our heads, could allow him to become lucky; he could always capture us after we have the true heir.” Steingar begins, pausing only to take a drink of wine.

“This is a small isle. It wasn't listed in the records of the guild of bounty hunters. Perhaps we have nothing to worry about?” Jarae suggests.

“That doesn't mean we shouldn't take precautions. At this point, I would not be at all surprised if Arona's unique silhouette had a bounty on it.” Kirsta interjects.

“Precisely. Now, as risky and important as this is, some of us simply cannot go ashore. Not like this, anyway.” Steingar continues.

“I go nowhere without my Val!” Jarae exclaims, leaning into her lover's side.

“Which is why we need a plan.” Steingar reiterates.

“So, disguises it is, then.” Trellan remarks. “I don't suppose you have anything that could be used to dye fur, do you, Lutala?”

“I have some colors amongst my ingredients.” She replies.

“Huh?! Dye?!” A horrified Steingar whimpers.

“Those colors are out of fashion, anyway.” Valan snickers, glancing at Steingar.

Standing atop the deck as Trellan's spirit pilots the Arona-Dahl into port, the wind ruffles their clothes. Lutala keeps the hood of her humble, brown robes pulled up, and her long, tapering tail tucked beneath her garment. Mairlynn, Kirsta, Valan and Irzain do the same, though as an elf and three humans they have no tails which they need to hide. Jarae, having never been caught by the Crown, nor having a poster made for her, wears her conventional clothes. As always, her clawed hand remains fused to her lover's. Steingar, however...

“Aww, aren't you pretty!” Mairlynn gushes.

“Shut up...”

“I think it's very masculine.” Jarae smirks.

Slowly turning his head, Steingar glares at the Jaliscan and her human lover, who cannot even speak; he struggles to hold in his laughter. The towering warrior, who has been forced to forgo his armor and much of his weaponry for the sake of the disguise, stands in only his black trousers, white shirt and black, leather vest. His fur, no longer slate gray and with a burnt orange pattern on his chest, neck and lower jaw, has been dyed to hide his identity. Originally using a light red, the compound reacted with the oils in his fur and instead turned it a bright pink. His chest was given a wash with a powdered bleach, but Lutala ran out before they could apply a second coat, and so it has turned a vivid, dandelion yellow, instead of the planned white.

“I'm sorry I didn't have any better colors, but at least your race is vibrant.”

Again, he slowly turns his head and glares at the Lahnyt, who herself looks rather amused.

“Okay, so not that vibrant, but at least they won't know who you are!” Lutala struggles to withhold her laughter.

“I hate you.” He grumbles.

As Trellan automatically drops the anchor and extends the gangplank, the crew collect the ropes and head ashore, to tie down the ship to the cleats.

“Something about your new colors... It makes me hungry for sweets.” Valan teases the Helngar.

“Please tell me this washes out.” Steingar looks to Lutala.

“Well...” She stops in her tracks.

“Please?!” He asks with urgency in his voice.

“Erm... It won't take that long for you to shed that coat... Will it?” She nervously chuckles.

“...”