FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Fifty-Six: The Sinister Urge

“Is there any tenderness?”

Kirsta subtly nods her head.

“Hmm...”

The buxom blonde’s sapphire eyes watch Lutala intently as the Lahnyt healer feels the human’s toned belly. Seated at the edge of her bed, Lutala’s dark flesh contrasts with the alabaster skin of the human, who leans back, supported by a stack of down pillows. Lutala’s hands begin to glow with the soft light of her Halcyon magic.

“Do you feel any pains or noticed any swelling?”

“No pains, but they have become somewhat larger.” Kirsta shifts her eyes toward her breasts.

“That’s normal. They’re preparing for your child and will soon be filled with milk.”

“Oh, right...” Kirsta’s cheeks flush.

Lutala’s hands cease to glow as she rises from the bed. She makes her way toward a large satchel she’d brought with her from her room, which sits atop Kirsta’s nightstand. She retrieves a jar of strange, pink powder.

“I would like you to take a spoonful of this every day. Mix it with hot water to make a tea. I assure you, it tastes far better than it smells.” She instructs her patient, presenting the jar to Kirsta.

“Oh... Is everything alright?!” A nervous Kirsta asks, taking the jar.

“You and your child are fine. It’s just a supplement, to keep the two of you strong.”

“Oh!” The human breaths a sigh of relief. “So, you can tell how many are in there?” She asks, slipping on her shirt.

“I can sense the heartbeat.”

“Interesting! ... Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“No.”

As she slowly collects her satchel, Kirsta cannot help but notice how melancholy the Lahnyt priestess appears to be. The orange flesh of her brow has taken a soft and perpetual curl, her fiery eyes adopting a dull hue, and her voice is routinely a soft, dry monotone, utterly devoid of feeling. The blue-skinned amphibian lets out a little sigh as she slings her satchel over a shoulder, her long, tapering tail swishing through the air as she turns and heads for Kirsta’s cabin door.

“I’m sorry.” The human suddenly speaks up.

“For what?” Lutala shifts and turns her fiery eyes toward her.

“You know what... This can’t be easy for you, considering who the father of my child is.”

“Oh... That...” Lutala sighs again. “To be completely honest with you, Kirsta, for as much as it pains me to know you’re carrying Salman’s child, the fact that I’m trapped on this ship and kept away from him is far, far worse.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” The human sits up.

“What good would that do?”

“It might make you feel better. Come on. Have a seat and share your thoughts. I won’t interrupt or judge you.” She says with a warm smile, draping her legs over her bedside and patting the space beside her. “Your troubles will be safe with me, Lutala.”

Lutala blinks, her brow raising in genuine surprise.

“Heh... I must admit, I never expected you to be the one to offer a shoulder for me to cry on.”

“Guilt is a powerful thing. I know how much you care for Salman, and yet you still attend to me and provide this supplement for me and my child. You did it without hesitation. If I were in your place, I doubt I could do the same. You’re as kind as you are strong. The very least I can do is return your kindness. Besides, hiding your pain isn’t healthy. Take it from me; staying silent only made my suffering worse, until I finally acted out.”

“Is that how you became pregnant? Acting out?” Lutala raises a brow.

“You could say that... I was certainly the aggressor when it happened.”

Kirsta displays a deliberately exaggerated grin. Seeing this, even her melancholy cannot defeat her amusement; Lutala flashes the faintest of smiles.

“I should’ve known.” She softly chuckles.

“Yes, you should’ve.”

“... Alright. We can talk.”

Lutala sets the satchel aside and returns to Kirsta’s bed, moving her tail aside as she takes a seat beside the warrior. Resting her clawed hands atop her knees, she turns her head and looks at Kirsta. The now vibrant human smiles with startling warmth. It’s a side of the often grouchy and stern warrior that she’s never seen before. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of her condition?

“Where to begin...” The Lahnyt murmurs. “What do I even talk about?”

“Talk about what ever you like, from whenever your troubles began. I’ll listen.” Kirsta replies, reaching out and resting a hand over hers.

“I suppose it all truly began on the day when Salman almost died, when I dove in to save him from the clutches of the sea. Something changed. Perhaps in him? Perhaps in me? Perhaps in both of us? All I can say for certain is that things have only become more... Confusing.” Lutala begins, closing her eyes.

Opening his eyes, the human glances from side to side. He’d heard the cries and the awful sounds, but he dared not peek. He could sense the presence beside him, though he heard nothing and felt nothing. With the cave now as quiet as a tomb, Salman’s blue-green orbs scour the darkness of the cavern. Where has the medvyedii gone? He sniffs the air, smelling the rancid stench of the beast. It must be close. Just then, he hears the raspy growling. His long and flowing hair swishes through the air as he quickly turns his head and peers over his shoulder. He’s startled by the glowing red eyes of the vicious beast, who stands only a few feet away. With blood covering it’s gaping maw, dripping from it’s razor-sharp teeth like hot tar and pooling on the earthen floor, the monstrous beast stares at him.

“Hello, there.” Salman murmurs, raising the fingers of a hand in a feeble wave.

The beast bows its head, then takes a step forward. Using the crown of its skull, it pushes against his side. Toppling over, Salman lands on his right forearm and raises the left, as if to shield himself. The medvyedii lifts its head, shoving its blocky snout beneath his arm. The creature wriggles, being careful not to jab him with its blood drenched tusks. Acting purely on impulse, Salman gives the creature a feeble squeeze, as if he were trying to hold the medvyedii in a headlock. Rising up, the creature easily yanks the human from the ground, stopping as soon as he can stand on his own. Though at first struggling to maintain his balance, a sudden burst of energy fills Salman’s body, reaching down to his very bones. Backing away, the medvyedii gives his back a little push with its nose, as if it were shooing him out of his house.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.”

As Salman walks toward the door, the medvyedii suddenly charges. As he turns back, he’s startled by the massive and powerful beast racing past him and through the opened door. It disappears down the hallway. Is it exploring the dungeon, looking for a way out? A few faint voices, the cries of other frightened prisoners, attacks Salman’s heart. He cannot abandon those poor souls. Glancing back, he stares at the corpse of the Helngar, who’s rather large build and muscular physique has been reduced to nothing but a few bits of flesh and fur clinging to the bones of the arms and legs of the headless body. The abdominal cavity has been completely hollowed out, whilst the tail has been removed and eaten by the medvyedii.

Approaching the grotesque remains, Salman collects the keyring, still attached to the torn leather belt of the mostly devoured guard. Making his way down the hall, he soon finds himself standing before several cells. Weakened and terrified men huddle near the far wall. They stare at the Lord of Mishgan. Are they afraid that the medvyedii will return?

“A-are you a vengeful ghost?!” A prisoner asks.

“Hm?! No.” Salman chuckles and flashes a little smile.

“H-how did you survive the medvyedii?!”

“Perhaps I wasn’t his type?”

Salman shrugs his shoulders, then inserts the key into the lock and opens the cell for the shivering men.

“Care to join me in a grand escape?”

Waving his hand and presenting the hallway to the men, they seem hesitant. They quickly change their minds and step out of their cell. One by one, Salman walks along the very hallway that was to be his last memory, only to release the other prisoners who share equally stunned expressions. Upon nearing the junction that leads to the empty cells and his former prison, Salman finds two final cells. Opening the door closest to him, the final prisoner approaches the bars. He glances at the key in Salman’s hands, then turns his attention to the stranger’s face. His eyes light up and he sticks an arm between the bars, pointing at the Lord.

“I know you!”

“Do you?” Salman pulls open the neighboring cell’s door.

“Yes! You’re Salman! You lead the rebels in the fight against Vashalak!”

The other prisoners, now numbering roughly one dozen, begin to chatter amongst themselves.

“I never thought you’d live long enough for me to meet you. I just wanted to say, I respect you for what you’re doing.”

“Thank you, but you have me at a disadvantage. Who might you be?” Salman begins, slipping the key into the final cell’s lock.

“I’m just a farmer. I suppose a rebel and a prisoner, now.” He says, taking a step back.

“You’re a rebel?” Salman pulls open the cell door.

“I suppose.”

“You don’t certain of that.” A random prisoner remarks.

“What were you in for?” Another asks.

“I killed a soldier.” The farmer replies, stepping out of the cell.

“For what reason?” The suspicious prisoner questions the farmer.

“I lived and worked on a small wheat farm on an isle not too far from here. When Vashalak put out that damned order, the soldiers came. They took over the garrison, which was originally made of mostly humans, Falmun and some Jaliscan volunteers, all of the most populace races on the island. They moved from farm to farm, ranch to ranch and house to house. Anyone deemed an ‘inferior’ was taken. I was threshing my harvest when I heard the screams. I came out to see men dragging my wife outside. They were fondling her...” The farmer’s face flushes with anger, his voice growing hoarse.

“Oh... I’m sorry, I... I didn’t realize.” The prisoner, now visibly ashamed, bows his head before the man.

“Neither did we. I ran to them to demand an explanation, but the elves who pawed at my wife like she was theirs simply ignored me. They remarked about her and tried to... Use her... Right there, in front of me! Soldiers grabbed me as I began to fight them. Somehow, I broke free. Just as a soldier was about to violate my beloved Gonala, I drew a karambit I used for cutting roots, hidden in a sheath tucked in my trousers. I jammed the blade between that bastard’s armor and tore his liver in two! The other soldiers forgot all about my wife and began to beat me, but a commander stopped them. He was angry that his men were falling into lust, but angrier that I’d killed one of his men. He took his bastard sword and beheaded my wife, who was still shivering, on her hands and knees. One swing! I fell to pieces, and so they carried me away, bringing me here for safe keeping, until I could be publically executed for my ‘treason’.”

Finishing his story, Salman and the other prisoners fall silent. After a moment, Salman approaches the heartbroken man and rests his hand upon his shoulder, giving him a squeeze.

“I’m sorry for your loss. You’re free to join me, as are the rest of you.” He says, glancing over his shoulder. “Once we make our escape, I can take you to our base. You should be safe there.”

“Thank you, sir.” Several prisoners chirp.

“My name is Salman. No one who has shared a prison with me should be forced to call me ‘sir’.”

The men gather around the Lord, pledging their allegiance. Now numbering fourteen, the group makes their way from the dungeon, following a trail of carnage that most wouldn’t dare imagine. The medvyedii has slain more than a dozen soldiers, leaving a bloody trail straight into the courtyard. Along the way, Salman and his crew collect the unbroken swords, shields, armor and the coin purses of the fallen soldiers. Upon reaching the courtyard, having found zero resistance, they stop and stare in shock and horror.

Nearly thirty bodies line the courtyard of the fortress. The gate is wide open, with weapons and tabards lying about, left behind by soldiers who’ve abandoned their posts in fear. Near the gate, the medvyedii bites onto the head of a corpse. With a firm yank, the Helngar’s head pops from his neck, sickening several of Salman’s men. Turning toward them, the medvyedii drops the head and lets out a powerful roar, before racing toward them. The men raise their swords and shields, but Salman steps forward, holding out a hand to them and motioning for them to cease.

They watch as the Lord stands before the creature, who slows its pace before coming to a halt. It stands before him, the young medvyedii towering over the five-foot-eight human. Several arrows jut from its side, having done little damage to the powerful beast.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Salman begins, reaching out a hand and gently petting the medvyedii’s face. “Are you alright?”

The creature growls and turns its head toward the arrows.

“Let’s get those out, so you can heal.”

Moving around the creature, the beast lies down on its belly, to the shock of the men standing several yards away. Working carefully, Salman gently pulls the arrows from the creatures, causing it pain. Still, it remains on the ground, submissive to the human who would be no match for the terrible beast. With the third and final arrow removed, Salman kneels beside the medvyedii’s large and bulky head. It lifts up, push its head onto his lap as if it were a common dog. Salman briefly pets the creature.

“You’re alright. Thank you for not killing me before. I appreciate that.” He speaks softly to the beast.

“Rrrr.” It growls rather gently.

“You’d better run along, before more soldiers arrive.”

As if it were commanded by the Lord, the creature rises to its massive paws and casually walks away. It stops at the gate, only to briefly look back at Salman, then darts into the nearby wilderness. Brushing off his already filthy trousers, Salman turns back and motions toward the men, who stand as still as statues. They’re speechless, unable to do anything besides follow the Lord as he leads them out of the courtyard and into the forest.

“There.” Salman points toward a dock in the distance.

“Are those fishermen?!” One of Salman’s men remarks.

“Perhaps they can help us?!” Another suggests.

“What wonderful luck we’re having!” A third rejoices.

“Yashuva works in mysterious ways.” Salman murmurs.

“Who?” The man closest to him raises a brow.

“Never mind. Let’s introduce ourselves. Perhaps we can barter with those fishermen for passage to the base?” Salman instructs.

“Good idea. Gather the coins!”

The group sheath their swords and daggers, lower their shields and present the pouches full of vasariks to Salman, who carries them by the purse strings. Alongside the dock is a modest craft with a single mast. With a crew of three, they fold their nets in preparation for another trip. Seeing the group, the Captain freezes in place, unnerving his crew, who then quickly take notice of the newcomers.

“Hello! We mean you no harm!” Salman cries out.

“Forgive me if I seem disturbed by your gang of armed men.” The Captain retorts.

“Hey, I know that man!” A crewmember suddenly exclaims.

“You do?!”

“Yes! I’ve seen a poster with his face on it!”

“So have I!” The second crewmember chimes in. “He’s the leader of those rebels!”

The Captain’s expression swiftly changes. All three men look toward Salman and his group. Two are Falmun, while the youngest is a Jaliscan.

“I wonder if I might spare a moment of your time, Captain.” Salman begins, ever the gentleman.

“Alright...”

“We’re heading to a particular isle, and we were hoping you could take us there. We could pay you handsomely for the trip, and help with your catch along the way.”

Now thoroughly intrigued, the Captain entertains the thought. Upon hearing the destination, however, he declines, but not due to a lack of interest.

“The truth is, sir, this vessel wouldn’t make a trip so far. Even if it could, we’d be at risk of being caught by the Crown.”

“So, you won’t help us?” One of Salman’s men rests his hand on the grip of his sword.

“I didn’t say that!” The Captain swiftly exclaims, unable to see the subtle threat. “We’re what those damned Vizhek and Helngar have so lovingly nicknamed ‘inferiors’. He lost his sister to those bastards.” The Captain points at his Jaliscan crewmember. “We’ll help you for free, but we simply cannot make that trip. What we could do, however, is take you to another isle, where more like us have hidden ourselves. Fishermen, with similar craft. It’s not ideal but you can slowly make your way there, and I highly doubt any would turn you away or even charge you, sir!”

“Thank you, Captain, and don’t call me ‘sir’.”

“Yes, sir! I-I mean, Salman! Please, come aboard!”

With feet thumping along the wooden floorboards of the ship, Steingar knocks on the next door.

“It’s open!” Kirsta calls out.

Opening the door, Steingar is surprised to see Kirsta and Lutala in an embrace, with Lutala wiping away a tear.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s alright.” Lutala sniffles, pulling away from Kirsta.

“... Are you alright, Lutala?”

“Yes, Steingar. Thank you for asking.” Lutala nods and flashes a little smile.

“We were just having some woman time.” Kirsta adds.

“I see... Well, we’re nearly to Gweyl.” Steingar begins.

“Already?! It feels like we’ve only just left Bural!” Lutala exclaims.

“It’s been at least six hours. The isle wasn’t far, and in case you haven’t noticed, Arona is a very fast ship.” Steingar flashes a smug grin.

“We’ll head for the lounge.” Kirsta replies.

Nodding his head, Steingar makes his way for the next door. He knocks and shares the same information with Valan and Jarae. Reaching the final door, Steingar raises his fist to knock but stops. His swept back ear shifts and he turns his head, his glowing, golden eyes rolling as he sighs with frustration.

“RRRR!” Irzain grunts from within the room.

“Nnnnhh-aahh!” Mairlynn exclaims. “Mmmm-yeah... Let out every last drop, you stud.” She coos, softly panting for air as the lover’s climax eases.

“Oh, Mair...” The gasping Irzain coos.

As he stands at the door, Steingar softly growls to himself. He can hear the couple as the diminutive Falmun flops forward, plopping against the Scribe’s chest as she lets out a little squeal. She giggles softly and he can hear the pair nuzzling and kissing one another, before a familiar sound begins again. Mairlynn, with Irzain’s manhood still buried within her loins, begins to move once more.

“Ooohhh-yeah... Do you have any more in there? Shall we see?” She speaks so innocently.

“How do you keep going?! At this point, I don’t believe I have any fluids left to give you.” He replies.

“I’m making up for lost time. I’m not often able to enjoy myself like this.” The dainty Falmun replies, the bed creaking as she rocks her hips with a bit more force. “This is a treat I don’t wish to give up.”

“Mmmm-yeah, I can see that.” He says through labored breaths.

With a frustrated sigh, Steingar has had enough. He takes a deep breath.

“Ahem!” He loudly clears his throat before rapping his knuckles on the cabin door. “Anytime you two wish to finish!”

“Oh, damn!” Irzain remarks.

“Uhm! ... Just a minute!” Mairlynn calls out to him.

He stands before the door as still as a statue, as he had been this entire time. With his arms crossed before his chest, he stares at the floor, fully expecting the tiny elven woman to be the first to emerge. His claws tap against the dyed pink fur of his bicep as he grows increasingly impatient. After a moment of listening to the lover’s shuffling, the latch finally clicks and the door swings open. As he expected, Mairlynn stands before him, a smug little grin on her face. To his dull surprise, she’s nude and a familiar fluid stains her golden pubic hairs. Her ruby eyes scan Steingar’s form, before finally meeting his gaze.

“Hello there, miss.” She teases him.

“Ha-ha... Are you two done?” Steingar asks, wincing from the pungent aroma of their copulation, which his powerful nose easily detects.

“For now, unfortunately, thanks to you.” She with a little whimper.

“What is it, Steingar?” Irzain asks, slipping on his trousers.

“Wash up and meet us in the lounge. We’re nearly at Gweyl.”

“Already?!” A surprised Mairlynn exclaims.

“Come on! Don’t waste any time!” Steingar claps his hands together as he continues walking down the hall, to meet the others. “You’ve done enough of that already!”

“... He’s just jealous.” Mairlynn remarks, turning her ruby orbs and glancing toward her lover.

“I heard that!” Steingar exclaims from the lounge.

After using a cloth and basin in Irzain’s room to wash themselves, the pair put on their clothes and make their way into the lounge. There, the others are already concluding their brief meeting and merely inform the Scribe and his dainty elven lover of their plan. Though a small isle, Gweyl is larger than the others they’d recently visited. As such, it likely has a proper town hall and a ledger, which they may use to easily discover if the island is the home to Harokian and his family. Steingar will stay behind, as his brightly colored fur and glowing eyes will only serve to give away their position in the dead of night. In his place, Kirsta will join the crew as a lookout and guard. She already wears her leather armor, sword and has primed one of Valan’s crossbow pistols.

Jarae, being a skilled thief who’s spent many years living rough on the streets, will help them break into the town hall, should it be locked. As her fiancée and a skilled gunman, Valan looks after his lover; he would never dare leave her unattended. As far as the crew are concerned, neither Irzain nor Mairlynn are required, though both volunteer for the mission. For Irzain, it’s out of a sense of duty. Everything that’s transpired thus far has been as a result of his knowledge, and he will be damned if he cannot see them through such an important mission. Mairlynn, however, merely enjoys the time away from Arona. Lutala remains behind.

“Remember, just find out if Harokian is here. We can work out how to collect him after you return.” Steingar quietly reminds everyone.

“We know! By the Seraphs, you’re like a mother hen!” An annoyed Mairlynn loudly whispers.

“We’ll be back as quickly as we can.” Kirsta assures him.

With the night as their shroud, the cloaked and hooded figures move quietly throughout the sleepy streets. No candles or lanterns burn in any windows, and the chirping of the crickets is obscenely loud. They don’t even encounter a single patrol. It doesn’t take them long before they find the town hall, which bears a sign that reveals the building’s purpose. Jarae sees the sign first and proudly displays her new proficiency at reading, a skill taught to her by both Valan and Lutala, and begun many weeks earlier, by Draeolynn. As they approach the building, the door abruptly opens and a lone guard emerges from within. Wearing an iron skullcap and a thick gambeson shrouded in chainmail, the soldier stretches his arms as he takes up a post beside the front door, a pike clutched in his gloved hand.

“That’s just our luck.” Mairlynn quietly sighs.

“What now?” Kirsta whispers.

“You stay here and watch the door. Val and I will look around the building for any other entrances. If we do not return but you do not hear gunshots or yelling, then we’ve likely slipped inside unnoticed; wait here until we return.” Jarae instructs.

“I can probably just-”

“Sounds good.” Kirsta replies, interrupting Mairlynn, whose voice goes unnoticed.

Valan and Jarae creep into the darkness, making their way around the building while keeping a safe distance. Jarae moves so gracefully, so silently. She’s like a housecat, hardly even bending the blades of grass around her feet. Valan is thoroughly enchanted by her skills, as well as her beauty; the moonlight causes her pink hair and brown fur to gently sparkle, like her shimmering, pink eyes. She looks back, only to find her beloved staring at her.

“Try to be quieter, my love. We don’t want them to-... What?” She speaks in a soft whisper.

“I’m just taken by your presence. You’re so beautiful, Jarae.”

She struggles to contain her smile, her lips peeling back around her short, cat-like snout as her jaw slowly opens. Her pearly white teeth glint in the moonlight.

“You’re so sweet.” She says with a subtle giggle.

“Only to you, my love.” He replies, reaching out and softly stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Mmmm...” She coos and closes her eyes. “Good. If there are ever any others, you know I’ll kill them without hesitation or mercy.” She opens her eyes and stares into his.

“As would I.”

“Aww! ... We’re losing focus, my darling. Let’s keep going before-”

“Is someone out there?!” The guard suddenly turns.

He stares in their direction, but as they remain hidden within a large bush, he cannot see them. He takes a step closer, squinting as he peers into the darkness. They remain crouched, unmoving and unblinking. They even hold their breath, waiting to see what the guard will do. After a moment, he straightens his back and steps closer to the front door.

“Eh, just my ears playing tricks, I guess.” He grumbles.

The lovers look toward each other and Jarae takes Valan by the hand. She leads him away, the human struggling to be as silent as his Jaliscan lover. They move further away from the building as they continue their quest. To their surprise, the rear of the building has no doors, nor any windows. Even the sides of the building are quite sparse, which is startling, given the size of the structure. After making a loop around, they return to the others, who look visibly worried.

“You were nearly spotted back there... We almost took action.” Kirsta remarks.

“That was probably my fault.” Valan remarks.

“I don’t care whose fault it was. Did you get inside?”

“No. There are no back doors or windows.” Jarae replies.

“Maybe I could just-”

“Then maybe we should’ve killed him...” Kirsta grumbles, interrupting Mairlynn once again. “Alright. New plan. Why don’t we-”

Rolling her eye, Mairlynn startles the others into silence by standing tall and walking around the corner of the building. Before Irzain can reach out and grab her, she darts off, sniffling as she prepares her act.

“Hello?! Can someone help me?!” She calls out.

“Who goes there?!” The guard demands, lowering his pike as he takes a defensive stance.

“Mister?! I got lost! Can you help me?!”

“Oh... Hello, child!” The guard’s stance eases and he sets the pike against the wall, beside the front door.

“I-I don’t know where my house is. I’d never taken a walk in the dark before.” She continues, crying with true conviction.

“She’s good at that.” Jarae murmurs.

“Who are you, child? I know most of the people in this town, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“We’re uh, we’re new to this isle.” She quickly replies.

“And yet you’d sneak out?”

“Well...”

Mairlynn bows her head forward before shifting her ruby eyes, which are obscured by the darkness. She looks up at the older, human guard with the most innocent of expressions, batting her eyelashes.

“Sometimes I can be naughty girl.” She says with a little giggle.

“I can see that.” The guard chuckles.

“Ugh... Please don’t, Mair.” Kirsta grumbles and rolls her eyes.

“Would a nice man such as yourself be so kind as to help a lost girl?” She coos.

“Who would say no to that face. Let’s see if we can find your house, shall we?” The guard steps closer.

“Thank you, mister.”

Expecting him to turn his back, Mairlynn lifts her right hand, preparing to grab the kris that’s hidden beneath her cloak. However, the guard approaches her, promptly grabs her bicep with considerable strength and begins to lure her away. The diminutive Falmun is startled, having never been approached so casually by a prospective victim before.

“Maybe your house is this way.” He says, pulling the dainty female toward the large bush that once hid Valan and Jarae.

“M-mister, you’re squeezing too tight.” Mairlynn whimpers.

“You know, you remind me of my daughter, if she were still young and innocent...”

The guard’s voice swiftly changes, a disturbing growl emerging. He gives Mairlynn’s arm a quick yank, causing her to stumble and fall against him. Realizing that something is very wrong, Kirsta abandons the group, who swiftly follow behind. She draws her sword as quietly as she can.

“P-please, stop! You’re hurting me!” Mairlynn whimpers.

It does not sound feigned; the elven woman is clearly afraid of the much larger and stronger human.

“Shhh! We’re going to find your house. This way, child.” The guard says with a sadistic grin.

His free hand unfurls his leather belt before pulling it through the buckle. As he pushes his trousers down, Mairlynn realizes what he intends to do with her. She tries to yank her arm away, but the guard snarls.

“Lie there and be quiet, little one, or I’ll cut your throat from ear to ear. Every girl becomes a woman someday.”

“Please! D-don’t hurt me, mister!” Mairlynn’s voice quivers.

“Oh, I won’t hurt you. You’ll enjoy this.” He says with a twisted grin.

With a soft swish, a bolt flies from the shadows and pierces the man’s shoulder.

“Agh!”

“Damn.” Irzain growls.

He’d rushed past Kirsta in an effort to save his lover. The guard feels around the bolt, looking in shock and horror at the small wooden shaft jutting from his shoulder. As he turns, he finds himself face to face with a man who struggles to reload a strange weapon, a tiny, handheld crossbow. Suddenly, a most beautiful creature moves around his attacker. The fair skinned human with beautiful, sapphire eyes, long and glistening golden hair, a perfect figure and large, perky breasts that are noticeable even through her leather armor, dashes toward him with a vicious glare. Before he knows what’s happened, Kirsta takes a single swing and cleaves his head from his shoulders, his body swaying for a split-second before collapsing onto the ground. Irzain races to Mairlynn’s side and drops to his knees. She swiftly clings to him for protection.

“He... He was going... He thought I was a!” She stammers.

“Shhh... You’re alright. You’re safe now.” He coos, petting her head and holding her close to his chest.

“Let’s drag his body out of sight.” Valan says as he grabs the headless corpse’s legs.

“How about into this bush?” Jarae suggests as she grabs an arm.

Mairlynn pulls away from Irzain, who rises to his feet. He watches as the crying Falmun wipes her eyes, approaching the severed head that lay atop the ground. The guard’s lifeless eyes seem to stare at her. With an angry growl, she gives the head a swift kick and it rolls away, passing Valan and Jarae, who pause to glance back before continuing to hide the guard’s corpse. Jarae pats him down, stealing what little valuables and keys he’s carrying. Kirsta and Irzain both approach the elven woman, who stands and stares silently at the ground.

“He’s dead now, Mair. He won’t hurt you.” Irzain says in a soft voice, trying to comfort her.

“I know.” Mairlynn murmurs.

“I thought you would’ve wanted another man to desire you.” Kirsta cannot help but snicker, taking a francisca from the guard’s twitching corpse.

“Of course! If he knew I was an adult, I'd have welcomed him with open legs, but he thought I was a child. That’s vile.”

The group’s collective brows raise, and Irzain feels a tinge of pain in his chest. He’d spent the last week as Mairlynn’s lover. How can she, after being so intimate with him, casually disregard his feelings with such a perverse statement?

“Uh, maybe we should hurry up and look for the ledger?” Valan suggests.

“You’re right. We’ll watch the door from the alley. Be quick.” Kirsta replies.

As Kirsta collects both Irzain and Mairlynn, Valan and Jarae slip inside of the town hall. To their surprise, the structure seems to double as a temple, being a single room with pews and an altar at the far end. A pulpit in the corner seems to be where official business is performed, as it bears several quills and a half-empty inkwell. Behind it and wrapping around the corner is a large bookshelf. With each of them taking a wall, Valan and Jarae search for anything that looks appropriate. Valan, however, discovers nothing but religious tomes and maps.

“Here!” Jarae whispers loudly.

“What do you have?”

“Roster, deeds and annual taxes.” Jarae reads the cover of the book.

She turns the book and displays it for her lover, who smiles and nods his head in confirmation.

“Very good. You’ve learned well.”

She flashes her pearly white teeth, revealing a set of fang-like canines. Her smile always grows wider with even the subtlest of his compliments. She rolls the book in her hands and opens the cover, her shimmering, pink eyes scouring the pages. After moving through the land deeds, which was a rather short section, she checks a roster. It contains many more names, the family members who live with the owners of the various lands, who was born and who has since died.

“Damn. I don’t see Harokian in here... I do not see a ‘Cydren’ or ‘Okolana’ either.” She eventually replies.

“That’s disappointing.” He sighs.

“Would you like to look?” Jarae asks as she offers him the book.

“No. I trust you.” He replies, giving her a little grin.

Jarae returns the book where she’d found it and the pair make their way out of the town hall. No sooner than they emerge, they see a startling sight. Kirsta stands alone, confronting three guards on patrol, who appear to have noticed the unattended door of their town hall. Irzain and Mairlynn are nowhere to be seen. With a mighty roar, Kirsta heaves the small axe. The francisca whirls menacingly through the air before the modest blade finds its mark, burying itself deeply into the forehead of a guard who holds up his sword. With a loud crack, his skull splits at the front and blood cascades down his face, running over the tip of his nose like a waterfall.

His body falls limply to the ground, just as Kirsta draws her short sword and spins, ramming it through the leather breastplate of another guard, impaling him. No sooner than she's pierced his heart, yet another man comes for her. She swiftly turns, holding onto her sword and using her impaled victim as a shield. His body falls backward, his corpse as sturdy as a ragdoll, obstructing the third man's assault by falling against him. She draws a dagger from the sheath on her belt, placed across from her sword, and as the third man struggles to push off the corpse of his fellow guard, she strikes.

Before he realizes it, he spews blood from both his mouth and his neck, the latter of which Kirsta has opened with her blade. He falls back to the ground and bleeds out in seconds, his jugular spurting long streams of crimson with every beat of his heart. Kirsta retrieves her weapons and promptly motions to a dark corner, where Irzain and Mairlynn have been hiding. Though she’d killed all three men in the span of ten seconds, they’re certain the noises have alerted the town.

“Come on! We have to go!” Kirsta turns and shouts to Valan and Jarae.

Moving as quickly as they can, the group soon returns to the docks. They hear the commotion of a sleepy town awakening behind them. Steingar’s glowing, golden eyes are visible through the glass as he stands in the pilothouse, atop what was once Trellan’s cabin. As Mairlynn and Irzain dash across the gangplank, Kirsta, Valan and Jarae untie the ropes from the dock before following along. By that point, Steingar has emerged from the pilothouse and barrels down the steps.

“What happened?! Is everything alright?! What did you find out?!” He frantically asks Irzain, who struggles to catch his breath.

“Harokian isn’t here.” Jarae replies, dropping a coiled rope atop the main deck.

“Are you sure?!” The Helngar presses her.

“She’s sure.” Valan steps in.

“I read the ledger. Harokian and his family did not move here.” Jarae insists.

“So then what are you running for?!” Steingar cocks and scratches his head.

“We made a bit of a mess...” Kirsta says, staring at the docks and watching for any who may have followed them.

“Oh good!” Steingar facetiously exclaims.

“We’d better get going.” Valan remarks, joining Kirsta in her tentative stare.

“Where to?” Steingar asks.

“The next closest isle on the list.” Kirsta replies, her gaze unbroken.

“Fol it is.”