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The Windsar Adventures

Part 6: Old Debts and New Leads

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

The world of Therafim can be found online:

_ _

Please note that all battles and other events (including chances of pregnancy) are rolled out, creating an element of randomness to the flow of each story. The dice can be fickle, but so goes that gaming session. The rules used are drawn from the Pathfinder (primarily) and Dungeons & Dragons 3.5 (secondarily) games. I intend to start sharing bits of statistical blocks and other bonus content at the end of some of these stories to give a few behind-the-scenes looks at what makes the dice tick. Some of these bits of bonus content can be found on the Therafim website, while others are exclusive to these stories.

The shame and embarrassment still burned Harrin's cheeks as she finished cinching the last straps that held her breastplate in place. Those two wolfen had looked her naked body over like...like a piece of meat! The black-furred one had even been drooling as the grey-furred one cut her free, his hungry eyes on her breasts and belly, and then on her butt as she'd turned away from them both, free of the ropes binding her to the standing stone. It might have been enough to make her react in anger, to strike out at her would-be saviors for their barbaric behavior, if it wasn't for the presence of Arag. The huge, barrel-chested brute had moved forward as soon as he'd been freed, at Harrin's insistence, right as Harrin herself was being freed. Immediately he'd sensed Harrin's discomfort at being on full display as she was, her compact, muscular body only barely covered by her hands, and he'd protectively gotten between her and the bestial interest of the wolfen with Luna's friends. He hadn't left her side since then, quite unashamed of his own nudity, but also doing his best not to look at her body since she cared about such things, until finally she'd asked him to let her have some privacy so she could dress.

Normally, being out in the open would have left Harrin feeling exposed and uncomfortable. She was a citadel dwarf, after all, a dwarf born and raised in the heart of the world, the stone itself a part of her life's blood and bones. Here, however, the depths of the world where she'd been felt dirty, tainted by foul magic. Besides that, while the others remained inside, Harrin and the other girls who'd been a part of the sacrifice were able to scrounge through the now-vacant orcish camp, collecting clothing and other items that might prove of use, with the towering, boar-faced Arag standing nearby to make sure they were safe, resolutely keeping his eyes from wandering over the naked girls' bodies. Harrin had to admit, even if he was a member of a race that was normally the sworn enemy of her own (and what would her father think if he knew what she was thinking now?), Arag was a good person. As she was presently inside the now-dead orc warchief's tent, the last of the former captives to dress herself, and Arag had stationed himself at the front flap of that tent, Harrin decided that it couldn't hurt to take a little peek.

This was so unlike her! Or so Harrin thought to herself, even as she let her bright blue eyes play over the naked back of the massive but gentle creature who had shared in her earlier peril. He wasn't really very much like a boar, Harrin realized as she finally took a closer look at Arag. Actually, he was more like a peccary, all covered in a short coat of striped fur as he was, save for his front, which was a slightly lighter shade of green from the rest of his very dark green body. The fur actually softened his facial features somewhat, making him almost...well...cute.

"Arag," said Harrin, hoping against hope that he didn't notice what had to be a flaring blush all over her face as she approached him, "I think you should get dressed as well. There are plenty of clothes that the warchief used to wear, and I picked out a few that I think would look nice on you."

Arag's smile confirmed Harrin's secret thought of how his face looked, and she could even ignore the outward-sweeping tusks from either side of his snout.

"I get dressed," he said, his voice a gravelly thing, not pleasant at all to the ears, but not threatening either. Harrin had to exert her will to restrain herself from peeking in on Arag as he changed, but smiled when he emerged from the tent, now wearing a pair of sturdy and slightly baggy breeches, and a thick leather vest with metal plates at key intervals, enough of them to provide decent armor in a pinch, though they wouldn't be comfortable if Arag tried to sleep in the vest. "Is good?" he asked, holding his arms out to let Harrin look him over.

"Is very good," said Harrin, reaching out to pat Arag's slight paunch, grinning as she found it to be quite solid, not at all flabby. "Come on - we need to help get all this mess cleaned up. The loot from these orcs should be enough to see the people from the hamlets around here through the winter."

*

The symbols were the same. Sheru looked down at the small insignia in her hand, the one that her master, Charles Windsar, had been clutching in his own hand when he'd teleported back to his home, dying only a short time afterward. Then she looked back at the symbols that marked the altar in the sacrificial chamber, and each of the standing stones. They were indeed exactly the same. This realization at once thrilled and terrified her. It was exciting because it meant that she finally had a solid lead on something connected to the death of her master. It was terrifying because it was only the very tip of a much, much larger iceberg.

"At least I can see the tip of that iceberg now," the blue-robed wizardess said to herself with a sigh. "It's better than drifting in dark waters."

Turning away, Sheru went to the rope her friends had tossed down into the sacrificial chamber to let the captives escape and climbed up; there was nothing more she was going to learn from down there. In the large stone chamber above, lit by the fire Torrin had gotten going against the gloom of the long, bloody night, she saw her friends gathered around the fire, preferring the cold stone to the more comfortable surroundings of the slain ogre mage's chambers just beyond. Well, Tia and Ballia were there, anyway, as was Harvas, the older, grey-furred wolfen. Most of the others had gone out into the night to either scout or to scavenge, and Sheru could catch glimpses of the torches of the former captives as they picked through the remnants of the orcish camp, gleaning what they could to take some of their lost goods back, so that they could have a chance at starting their lives anew. Flintclaw and Luna were also both noticeably absent, and the thick wooden door dividing the stone chamber from Ralist's quarters was closed. Not really thinking anything of this, as Flintclaw had been badly cut up, his body swathed in many bandages even after the healing magic of Eärlindë had brought him back from the brink of death, Sheru supposed that Luna was just tending to Flintclaw, while he recuperated on a proper bed.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" asked Tia, the muscular, red-haired warrior who was Luna's older sister, her long tresses flowing around her shoulders as she turned to face Sheru, even as she squatted by the fire, poking it with a stick to keep it blazing brightly.

"There's a lot I still don't know," Sheru admitted, before she held up the symbol that had been in Charles Windsar's hand at the time of his death. "But I got rubbings of all the symbols down there, especially this one." Her face lowered, then, her disappointment showing. "Now I have to find someone who knows what they mean."

Tia frowned as she looked over at the small but ornate piece of metal. Then her face brightened as she looked at Sheru, gently tipping the young wizard's chin up with her hand.

"I think I can help you there," Tia said, reaching over with her other hand to gently rub the back of Ballia, who was sitting cross-legged next to Tia, her eyes closed as she rested in the elven healing meditation, what took the place of sleep for all the elven race. "Ballia's got a cousin. Her name's Yvette Brightstar. She's a gnome, one of the gold gnomes of Nemminus, but the Narma family, Ballia's clan, has been known to get around quite a bit, at least as elves go, if you get me." As Sheru nodded her understanding, Tia's expression suddenly soured. "I'll take you there, but, um," she cleared her throat, "I think I'd rather spend my time sleeping outside, or at a roadside inn, or somewhere else. Anywhere where Yvette isn't."

"What's wrong with Yvette Brightstar?" asked Sheru innocently, seating herself by the fire next to Harvas, facing across from Tia. "I thought gnomes were good people to be around, fun-loving and carefree."

"Yeah, that's the stereotype," said Tia, rolling her eyes. "It's forest gnomes that are like that, though. They live out in the woods, away from most others, so they can afford to be pretty cheerful; it helps to relieve the boredom, I guess. Gold gnomes, though, are pretty dead set on city life. They especially like making things, including money, and are always wanting to try out something new. Yvette," and Tia visibly shuddered as she said the name, "likes trying out new things, all right. Except, for her, trying out new things means...." But then Tia broke off, shaking her head. "Eh, it's nothing important. Yvette lives alone, mostly, in this little country estate a few miles outside of Nemminus. I guess we could reach there in, oh, about a week if we hustle, what with the time it'll take to get everybody we saved back home. She's got all sorts of weird books, and spends a lot of her time doing studies on subjects I've never even heard of, and writing letters back and forth with the professors at some of the magic colleges and mundane academies. They called her a child prodigy when we were all younger, and I imagine she's at least as much of a genius today. If you need help with weird, ancient languages, I'll bet that, even if she can't help you herself, she'd know exactly where you can go and who you can speak to so you can get the answers you need."

"I'm so glad," exclaimed Sheru, smiling in relief. "I was so afraid I'd hit another dead end. Threetails really must be a seeress to have gotten so much right. I'm so glad I followed her advice to go in this direction and help you."

Tia's eyes widened, and Ballia's eyes opened, while Harvas just smirked, looking at Sheru's confusion as she saw the expressions on the red- and green-haired women opposite her across the fire.

"You went to Threetails?" said Ballia, her elegant elven eyebrows lifting high.

"Tabitha, my adopted sister, told me to go to Threetails," explained Sheru. "She's a very talented divination specialist, but she's just as inexperienced as I am with the rest of the world, so she couldn't tell me everything I needed on her own. She knew enough to send me in the right direction, though: towards Threetails. Another of my adopted sisters, Callista, even spoke with Master Charles, or rather, with his shade - she's specializes in necromancy, though she stays away from the terrible parts of that magic - and Master Charles himself agreed that I'd get my start going to Threetails." Then Sheru paused, blinking in surprise at the steadily more shocked and horrified looks on Tia's and Ballia's faces. "Is there something wrong with Threetails?"

"Threetails is like the boogeyman, or Baba Yaga the Stormwitch," said Tia, hugging her arms underneath the halter part of the two-piece shift she used for sleepwear when she was in the field. "I was always told she was this scary old witch who could change her shape to anything she wanted, and who ate bad little girls and boys."

"I was told she was a wicked animal spirit," Ballia chimed in, leaning so far forward that Sheru found herself able to look right down the front of the greenhaired elfgirl's own filmy shift, making her blush as she hastily turned her eyes upward, "and that she normally takes the shape of a tall and beautiful woman to lure unsuspecting young men to their doom, sucking out their life essence so that she can grow more powerful and live forever."

"I never heard anything like that," said Sheru, taken aback by the reactions of her newfound friends. "Master Charles sometimes said Threetails was an old acquaintance of his, and someone we could go to in an emergency, if we truly needed help and didn't know where else to go. I, um," she blushed, "got the impression, though he never admitted it, that Threetails was a bit more than just a good friend. But when I spoke with her myself, all I saw was a sweet and kindly matron living out in the woods in a neat little cottage. She looked like an older mother, or maybe a young grandmother, someone who bakes cookies for children. Certainly nowhere as old as I'd thought someone who knew my master would be." And certainly not like the sort of person that Master Charles would have a relationship with, Sheru added to herself mentally, knowing Charles Windsar's homosexual tendencies quite well.

While Tia and Ballia seemed to struggle with Sheru's revelation, sharing a glance as they both silently admitted they had no idea what to think of Sheru's information, Harvas just watched the exchange silently. He'd gotten far in life, and had lived as long as he had, by being quiet, observing trends and tendencies and occurrences with slow, thoughtful care, taking his time to choose his path before he spoke. It often caused him to fade into the background, letting others overlook him while they were engaged in their great speeches and acts of heroism. Harvas was never one to want to be a hero, though, since he knew heroes tended to end up dead as often as not. He'd much rather wait, and watch, and bide his time. But sometimes he got a spark of good humor like a flea in his fur, and just had to scratch it out with words. Now seemed like a good time to speak up, especially since he remembered his own visit with Threetails, and felt that it was still a good idea to keep that knowledge from Sheru, at least for the time being.

"Why don't you want to go see this Yvette Brightstar?" the grey-furred wolfen asked, a light smirk playing on the corner of his muzzle. "Sounds like she'd be a fun person to be around."

"Maybe a little too fun," Tia grumbled under her breath, while Ballia giggled.

"Yvette has a big crush on Tia," Ballia explained, giggling some more when Tia stuck her tongue out at her friend. "She's been trying to get Tia into bed with her ever since Tia came of age..."

"Before that, actually," Tia added with a scowl.

"...and even before," Ballia continued, "but Tia's always turned her down. Which just drives a girl like Yvette crazy, of course. If Tia's offering to take you to Yvette, then it must mean that she really wants to help you out, Sheru."

"Girl saved my sister...and me," said Tia with a dismissive shrug, obviously trying to play it off as nothing. "I may not like Yvette much, but she's the smartest person I know personally. Guess I can make a few sacrifices if it means helping you out, Sheru. Besides that I owe you big, I feel like I just gotta help you find whoever killed your master. I don't even know what I'd do if someone killed my dad. Guess I'd do something like what you're doing."

Sheru's sweet smile of gratitude made Tia feel warm inside, and she rubbed her perpetually messy scarlet-haired head in a self-conscious fashion. Seeming to sense Tia's difficulty in accepting gratitude, Sheru left it at that, and instead rose to her feet, helped slightly by Harvas' strong hand.

"Speaking of doing research," said Sheru as she started to walk towards the back of the cave, "I think I should try going through some of Ralist's effects. Who knows what sorts of things he'll have collected that might come in handy?"

Harvas had helped, along with Tornan, Harrin, Tia, Ballia, and the moon elf twins, to burn the blueskinned monster's remains in the camp outside before returning to the cave. It was the only way to make sure he stayed dead, after all, since Harvas knew well that creatures like that could grow back their flesh, given enough time. He wasn't sure about growing back a lost head, of course, but it was better to be safe than sorry. It had taken all of that span of time for Flintclaw to be partially healed by Eärlindë's prayers to Velos, the Great Stag, and then to make his move on Luna. While Luna had sufficient wits about her to tell everyone she was going to help Flintclaw get comfortable, and maybe stay by his bedside to make sure he was healing right, only Harrin (who remained in the orcish camp), Ballia (who'd lingered a little longer outside, trying to find the worgs that had fled during the fight), and Tia (who had been tending the fire) missed the way Flintclaw had gripped Luna's bottom when he'd been pretending to lean on her shoulder for support, or the way Luna had wiggled in his grip like an eager puppy, pressing her hip against his own while the scent of her arousal was instantly obvious to the three wolfen. It was quite plain that, whatever Flintclaw and Luna were going to be doing behind that closed door, it wasn't making sure Flintclaw got his rest.

For a moment, Harvas considered telling Sheru to wait until morning to check Ralist's chambers. Then his eyes drifted over Sheru's sweet little tush, outlined nicely through her blue robes as she walked, and he felt his sheath swelling with the sudden fantasy of his intensely sexy alpha mounting that truly fine mageling, who he'd seen naked for far too short a span when they'd first saved her and Luna from those orcs. With an effort, Harvas forced the fantasy down so as not to arouse the suspicions of either Ballia or Tia, the latter of whom might have some objections to her younger sister being made a proper female by a wolfen. The smooth-skinned races could be so very picky about such things at times.

"Close the door behind you when you go in, Sheru," Harvas said instead as he leaned back onto his bedroll, smirking to himself as he closed his eyes. "And try to be very quiet: Flintclaw needs his rest."

*

"Very good, Luna," said Flintclaw in a low, sexy growl. "Very, very good."

Luna's brown eyes lifted to meet Flintclaw's, shining and eager, and her whole body seemed to glow with the praise. Flintclaw reached one large paw down, and ran the clawtips through Luna's short black hair, making the teen shiver, before he started to stroke her smooth, brown-skinned back, much as he might a cat. Also much like a cat, this caused Luna to arch her back, hiking her tight, bare, and boyish brown bottom a little higher, making it easy for Flintclaw to grip one toned teenaged cheek, before his fingers slid inward, over Luna's smooth, moist cunny. Moaning around the thick, red penis in her small mouth, Luna's eyes closed again, her cheeks becoming even more flushed than before, and she started to bob her head, just as Flintclaw had told her before, doing her best to make her first-ever blowjob as much of a delight to the red-furred wolfen as she knew he'd make the rest of her first time.

Ralist's room was composed of two parts. The first of these parts was a large study and dining area, complete with a desk, a table, and several chairs, along with a bookcase and a host of other bits of furniture that neither Luna nor Flintclaw cared to consider for long in their present state. The other part of the room, the one on which wolfen and human focused their attentions, was the dressing and sleeping area, mostly separated from the first part by a long, thick paper screen, like those from Cho-Lin to the far south and east. It wouldn't do much to keep sounds from reaching the rest of the room, but at least it provided them with privacy, since the paper screen stretched from wall to wall, separating one side of the room from the other, with only a fairly small space at one end to allow passage through, a passage that must have made the ogre mage bend sideways to use himself.

Already stripped of his breastplate and other armor by Eärlindë when she'd been inspecting his body for wounds, Flintclaw had stood before Luna's wide-eyed gaze in only his loincloth, watching her as she'd eagerly peeled off her own armor and the tunic beneath, kicking aside her tight-fitting undergarments after pushed them down her legs, wanting to be revealed before the powerful male's approving eyes. As she'd watched, breathless with anticipation, he'd turned away from her, untying the knot on one side, and tossed the garment casually onto a nearby ogre-sized chair, deliberately turning his tail to one side, letting Luna get a perfect look at the muscular male's tight, red-furred rump and full, plump balls.

"You can feel me up if you want, Luna," Flintclaw had said with an inviting toss of his head. "It's only fair after all the times I groped that cute butt of yours." He licked his chops thoughtfully as he said this. "It's a nice butt, too. Firm enough to bounce a silver on."

Her whole body feeling flushed right then with a combination of so many new emotions and sensations, Luna didn't answer - couldn't, really. Instead, she stepped forward, while Flintclaw just stood there, watching her over his shoulder, and reached out a tentative hand. Resting her light touch on the wolfen alpha's upper back, feeling the powerful, rippling muscles beneath her fingers, she slowly stroked her hand down, admiring his perfectly-toned physique, honed to perfection through a hard life in the wilds coupled with the rough training of a warrior. His sort of body was what Luna had always wanted, a body like her sister's, powerful and beautiful and perfect. She shivered slightly as she stroked both her hands over Flintclaw's tight-muscled rump, then, growing bolder, gave the firm flesh beneath the thick fur a gentle squeeze. His buns tensed under her grip, and Luna bit her lower lip as she momentarily remembered to breathe. It was like handling a tiger! Or some other untamed, wild, savage beast that might turn on her in an instant if she made a misstep. Except this "tiger" was charged with raw, primal sexuality, so powerful that Luna's pubescent mind and body couldn't resist what he offered, knowing instinctually that when Flintclaw finally mauled her, as all wild animals will do when pushed too far, it would feel so very, very good.

Hands drifting lower still, into territory uncharted save by her eyes, Luna gave a soft gasp as she hefted the heavy, red-furred orbs in her palms. She'd collected chicken eggs on her family estate that were smaller, and these "eggs" were warm and alive and pulsed slightly to her touch, or so she imagined, though that might simply have been the beating of her own heart. When Flintclaw's body tensed at her touch, she knew that they tensed, pulling up a little closer to his body, even as he reached back, gently gripping her wrists in his own two hands.

"Feel what you're doing to me, Luna," the red-furred alpha growled softly, guiding Luna's small hands around until she felt her fingertips touching his swollen, furry sheath. Peeking around Flintclaw's hip, Luna swallowed as she saw that it was quite a lot like a dog's sheath, and she'd seen more than enough of those around her town while growing up. Of course, what she hadn't seen was the thick, swollen length that was protruding from Flintclaw's sheath. The wolfen's penis didn't look very much like an animal's, Luna decided, and could only stare, looking it up and down, studying it with great interest. It was all a uniform reddish color, or maybe a dark pink, with a relatively smooth shaft, on the underside of which was a very large central vein (or so it appeared to Luna), or maybe a small artery, it was so big. When she first looked at the male's penis, most of its length was still inside the furry sheath. But, with Flintclaw's guidance, Luna first stroked that sheath, feeling a great deal of mass still inside of it, and then the rest of Flintclaw's shaft as it gradually emerged, taking its time as so much of his rich heart blood had to be shunted to the prodigious task. He was big!

Now running her hands up and down the smooth, warm length of Flintclaw's cock (and it felt so dirty thinking of it as that), sometimes shifting one hand or the other down to stroke his scrotum and the heavy orbs within, Luna felt a moment of trepidation. After all, Flintclaw was a lot bigger than her, and his penis size was more than a little intimidating for the teen. Flintclaw seemed to sense the girl's hesitation, perhaps even smelled it with that sensitive wolf's nose of his, and he slowly turned, making sure not to startle the girl as he faced her, his large hands stroking Luna's smooth sides and back and pert little breasts with astonishing tenderness for someone so large and so savage. Luna couldn't help but tremble a little in rising arousal as Flintclaw teased her perked, dark nipples with the soft-furred backs of his hands.

"Why don't you get used to my cock first," Flintclaw suggested, making sure not to nudge Luna's stomach with his jutting penis as he was so close to her, so as not to drive home his sheer size once again. "You know, stroke it a little more, maybe rub it against your body. Maybe kiss it some and take it into your mouth."

Luna's eyes got huge as she heard this last suggestion. She'd heard of such things in bawdier bardic songs when the menfolk of her home town were drinking in the tavern and thought that she wasn't there to listen, and she'd once had Ballia explain a few things to her, the elfgirl and her sister, Tia, taking on the role of mother for Luna, since Tia's and Luna's mother had died when they were very young, leaving their father to do most of the work of raising them. No matter how loving Luna's father might have been, however, he was never any good at explaining the whole sex thing, and Luna'd had to get her information from other sources, especially her sister and Ballia. Now Luna was about to put into practice what she'd only just barely started to conceptualize, sex suddenly becoming a crystalline thing in her mind, rather than a nebulous half-fantasy, half-rumor to keep her warm on cold, lonely nights when her father and Tia were out, taking care of their town. Despite this sudden shift in awareness, however, Luna didn't object, though she did wet her lips, finding them suddenly dry with a case of momentary nerves.

Keeping Luna's hands gently around his hard shaft, now standing at full erection and ready for action, Flintclaw slowly seated himself on the large, low bed, his footpaws resting on the floor. Luna felt the change in height a little awkward, even as it was also comforting, and knelt, settling herself between Flintclaw's thighs. His words were a soft, rumbling murmur in her ears as he told her what he liked and what she could do to make her blowjob even better, and soon the mocha-skinned teen started to just let all her fears and inhibitions go, discovering, as she began to lick and nibble her way up Flintclaw's proud, upthrust organ, that she actually liked this. Her first taste of precum wasn't anything that she'd expected from Tia's brief description of her (admittedly limited) experiences with oral sex on men. Instead of sour or unpleasant, Flintclaw's precum was a little bit watery, but also tangy, more of an addictive aftertaste than anything else. It was enough to make Luna start to get a little greedy, which is what drove her to trying to take as much of Flintclaw's sizable shaft into her mouth as she possibly could.

Chuckling a little as Luna pulled back, coughing a bit as she'd choked herself on his cock, one of her small hands going to her neck, Flintclaw rubbed one of his fingers a little more firmly against the moist folds of the kneeling teen, then slowly, carefully squeezed that thick digit inside of Luna's trembling inner walls. Her momentary discomfort instantly forgotten, it was all that Luna could do to stifle a sharp cry of surprise and sudden pleasure by popping Flintclaw's cock back into her mouth - after all, she didn't want to have to explain herself to her sister. This time she was a little more careful in her fellatio, taking that thick cock only to about half its length into her mouth, so as not to bump the back of her throat again. This was still more than enough to spread her cute mouth wide, making a very sexy show for Flintclaw indeed, and the lusty wolfen alpha soon carefully squeezed a second finger into Luna's clenching, soaking wet little cunny, gritting his teeth at the vibrations her cock-muffled cries sent through his shaft, gripping the sheet of the Spartan bed with his free hand. It only took a few thrusts of his fingers to get Luna moving her head in time, making Flintclaw grin eagerly at how easily Luna allowed him to lead her, to dominate her, trusting him completely. And the look she gave him through her heavy-lidded eyes, her cheeks so very flushed, just made Flintclaw get hotter still.

"You are so sexy," he growled, low and lusty and eager. This praise made Luna's inner walls flutter with a small orgasm, her back arching to press back even harder against Flintclaw's thick fingers. "Get up here, Luna: let me show you something fun."

*

At this moment, Sheru entered the room, quietly closing the door behind her as Harvas had suggested. She could see the silhouette of Flintclaw through a paper screen on the other side of the room, his back to her by the look of it as he was sitting up. Luna wasn't immediately visible, but Sheru didn't worry too much about that, supposing that her friend was probably just dealing with something out of her sight, perhaps looking under the bed, or kneeling in front of Flintclaw to better see to his many terrible wounds. It was a wonder Flintclaw was even still alive after the injuries he'd taken, his continued survival surely the result of divine intervention from the Great Stag, Velos. Sheru was admittedly a little surprised to find him sitting up at all, but let the matter slip from her thoughts. She, after all, had far more important things to deal with.

Ignoring the soft, deliberately muffled sounds coming from the other side of the paper screen, Sheru instead turned her attention to the shelves of books. As Charles Windsar's most promising student, Sheru had learned many languages, though most of them were of a more arcane nature, the sorts of languages that were more frequently found written than spoken, because a great many of the people who spoke the languages in question were now dead. As her master had always stressed, though, Sheru hesitated to ever call any language of Therafim truly "dead" - language was the mode mortals used for transmitting thought, after all, and this made it notoriously hard to completely wipe out. Her quick scan of the titles, however, quickly led to disappointment, as the books were obviously quite mundane in nature, intended for use as reference material in planning a military engagement. There certainly weren't any books discussing ancient religions or forbidden rituals or even the most minor of cantrips. It was all depressingly ordinary for the works contained in the lair of an evil master monster like the ogre mage Ralist had been.

After a quick perusal to see if there might be something hidden inside of any of the books turned up nothing, Sheru sighed, turning away from the shelves. The books themselves might prove valuable enough if sold to the right buyer, as she was sure they would be able to find in Nemminus, noted hub of scholars that it was, but beyond that, they had no interest for Sheru, and so she turned her attention instead to the ogre's desk.

Nothing. There were papers, certainly, in great number and variety, all laid out in a very neat, organized fashion. It took a little longer than Sheru expected because of the size of the desk, which was appropriate for a giant like Ralist, but the ease of using the dead ogre's organizational system made up for it. Nothing, though, was of interest to Sheru. Nothing, that is, until she noticed a small indentation in the bottom of one of the drawers. Pushing her fingers into the indentation, just barely large enough for one of Ralist's massive blue digits, Sheru slowly slid the bottom of the drawer open, revealing a hidden area inside. In that area, Sheru saw two objects. The first was a strange cloak of a dark, faintly shimmering material which seemed to drift slightly in and out of focus before Sheru's eyes. Recognizing a displacement cloak from what she'd read of them before, Sheru lifted the cloak out carefully, knowing that it would be a potent defensive item, causing one's enemies to have a hard time telling exactly where the wearer was standing. They would decide as a group who got it, of course, as was only right. The second item, though, was wrapped inside of the cloak, and Sheru immediately realized that she wasn't going to share it.

The object in question was a small, translucent green hemisphere, just barely large enough to fit comfortably in Sheru's palm. As she held it, it seemed to her as though it had been originally made for her hand, for her use. Instinctively, she knew its purpose: this was a source of arcane spells. Normally, wizards and similar users of magic would put down their knowledge into books, scrolls, and other forms of writing. Occasionally, though, one would use a more unique form of storing their knowledge. Tattoos were known as one means of ensuring spells couldn't easily be lost, and some settled wizards would inscribe their power onto the walls of their homes. Here, however, was a simple repository of memory, if Sheru's arcane sense was telling her truly. In it was the sum total of Ralist's magical knowledge, not just in the form of spells, but everything that he knew. At least, it would be. The sphere, however, was obviously incomplete. Holding the hemisphere up to her face, its inner glow reflecting green against the green of her eyes, Sheru saw an indentation at the edge, a place where a ring would fit. Sheru's sense for the item told her that there were, in fact, three parts to this device: two halves of an entire sphere, and a ring to hold them together, fitting into the indentation between the two hemispheres. Another look through the desk revealed, however, that the other two parts to this whole were nowhere to be found. Ralist, apparently, didn't have them in his possession, though Sheru supposed that she'd need to enlist the aid of the others to ensure her search was thorough enough. For now, though, Sheru turned her attention back to the part that she had before her.

For several long minutes, Sheru stared into the heart of the green hemisphere, feeling it out with her own budding powers, sensing an immense weight of knowledge just waiting to be unlocked. Then, with a start, she pulled back, shaking her head to clear it. This wasn't the time or place to meditate on this device, not yet. She'd have ample opportunity later on, when she had more privacy.

Speaking of privacy, Sheru's eyes strayed idly back toward the paper screen dividing the room, backlit by a candle on the opposite side, mostly to see if either Flintclaw or Luna had noticed her rummaging around. Her eyes widened, then, as she realized what she was seeing: the silhouette of Luna's lithe young body astride that of the much larger Flintclaw, tail to head, head to tail. Flintclaw's huge paws were gripping Luna's bottom as she leaned back against his muzzle, which was thrust up against her body, the specifics of what he was doing to the teen impossible to determine in a silhouette alone, though Sheru could hear the sound of wet, messy slurping as the wicked wolfen's tongue was surely delving deep into the girl's body. Luna, for her part, was making a fair amount of similar noises, and Sheru could clearly see Flintclaw's prominent erection, looking absolutely massive as its outline was thrown against the screen, with Luna bobbing her head eagerly up and down on its seemingly impossibly thick length. Every so often Luna would pull up, gasping loudly for breath, obviously trying to rest her tired jaw, before she would suddenly tense up, trying to stifle her cries of rising pleasure as the vastly more experienced Flintclaw tirelessly ravished Luna's pubescent pudenda. Eventually Luna's whole body would start to rock, her back arching as she was surely forced through a powerful orgasm, so strong that Sheru could feel its passion just watching the shadow play on the screen, which required Luna to pop the fat, mushroom-capped head of Flintclaw's cock back into her mouth to keep from screaming her head off. Her muffled cries seemed to enflame Flintclaw's passions even more, as he started to almost violently thrust his head forward and back, his jaws parting wide, letting Sheru get a glimpse of the wolfen alpha's sharp fangs before he closed them on Luna's backside, looking almost as though he were tearing into her tender flesh from what little Sheru could see in the shadows on the screen. Whatever Flintclaw was doing, however, it must have been very good, as Luna's whole body stiffened, forcing her to sit almost completely on Flintclaw's muzzle, which tilted back in response, and the young wizardess could hear Luna's barely-restrained, muffled whimper as he whole body shook, drops of sweat falling from her face and pert little breasts.

Sheru had lived a sheltered life at Charles Windsar's tower and estate. The only animals that she ever saw at that place were the small, wild things that crept through little holes in the wall or flew over its top to enjoy the gardens and trees with their copious bounty of fruit and nuts. The only people she'd ever seen were her fellow Circle sisters, and Charles Windsar, of course. In her youthful eagerness, she'd scouted out and read the few books Master Charles had kept on the subject of sex, but only one of these was illustrated, and not terribly detailed in what it had. In truth, Sheru had only just started her personal quest of sexual self-exploration a short few weeks before she'd been forced to go forth on her quest, having only the most rudimentary sense of how to touch herself to bring sexual pleasure through accidental discovery. Perhaps Master Charles would have provided her with books from his private library and answered questions if he'd lived long enough to do so, but as it was, Sheru knew next to nothing about the subject, except what a pair of dry scholarly works and some nude statuary and illustrations could reveal. Yet only a short while ago, she'd pressed her mouth against Luna's sex, giving the other girl cunnilingus like a professional whore, providing pleasure to parts on another person that she'd only just started to truly understand on her own body. It was confusing for the blonde-haired girl, something almost overwhelming in its power, and yet she also couldn't deny the strange, irresistible pull of sexual pleasure. For a moment Sheru considered simply slipping out of the room as quietly as she'd arrived. Then she saw Flintclaw lifting Luna, turning her to face him, and then setting her gently on his lap, and her curiosity and desire won out. Whatever happened, she just _had_to see it.

"It's really big," Luna said uncertainly, looking down her body and Flintclaw's at the swollen, dark pink shaft squeezed between their bodies. The underside of the wolfen's cock was solidly wedged into the dimple of Luna's pubis, and every movement of her body as she wriggled against Flintclaw's flesh caused that hard shaft to rub against her sensitive clitoris, sending spikes of pleasure through her young frame.

"Yeah," said Flintclaw with a teasing wink. "And you're gonna be really tight. That just means it'll feel even better for me." Then his lusty expression softened, and he stroked Luna's cheek with one hand, the other gripping her waist, providing support for her lower back. "That's what I was licking you so much for, Luna: I was getting you nice and wet. You're a healthy girl, and pretty flexible already, and as wet as you are," he motioned with his muzzle to where she was leaving a visible trail of slickness on his throbbing shaft, "you should slide right down. This position's one that my people call 'the beast with two backs," he continued, rolling his shoulders while stroking her own smooth back as a way of illustrating where the name came from. "It lets you have a lot of control of the action. All you gotta do is lift up, then sit down. And if it hurts," he smiled with surprising gentleness, "just stop. You might be my spoils of war, but I'm not gonna force ya. That'd just wreck all the fun out of it." His startlingly blue eyes met Luna's brown-eyed gaze. "Do you trust me?"

Swallowing, obviously still nervous, but also obviously so intensely aroused it was making her legs tremble, her flushed young cunny almost bursting with her juices like an overripe peach, Luna nodded.

"I trust you, Flintclaw," she said out loud, and then started to lift herself up, helped as both of Flintclaw's huge paws went to her hips. "Well," said the girl, positioning herself over the broad cap of the wolfen's cock, pressing down just slightly, letting it gently part her tightly-clasped cunny lips, "here goes."

Taking several deep breaths, steeling herself for the moment of her true defloration, her first time with a real man, Luna started to close her eyes, only to hear Flintclaw growl in her ear that she should watch this, since it was going to be her only first time. Taking his advice, Luna turned her head down, resting her hands on Flintclaw's thighs as she spread her legs, giving herself a better view. Then, with a long, slow exhalation, she pushed herself down onto her lover's penis.

Luna's eyes widened in surprise rather than the expected pain. She hadn't expected this at all! It was...so easy. Flintclaw had been right about how wet she was, and the slickness making her slide down his cock. Then, a moment later, when Luna had managed to squeeze almost a third of Flintclaw's shaft inside of herself, she started to feel a sensation of the most exquisite fullness. Flintclaw's paws went to her bottom, letting her rest her tush on his palms between bouts of downward pushing - and it was pushing now, as Luna discovered that, though it didn't hurt, it did take quite a lot of effort to squeeze that big willy into herself. This made it possible for Luna to settle into a nice, steady pattern, squeezing herself down about the span of one of her fingers, then pausing, gyrating her hips as she reveled in the sensation of her first cock filling her up, then sinking down a little more, before grinding her hips some more, and so on. Flintclaw, for all his savage, lusty nature, seemed content to just revel in the feeling of having a hot teenage girl not just willingly but eagerly try to take every bit of his hard cock into her exquisitely tight, freshly ex-virginal cunny. His expression as Luna's whole body tensed up, her head snapping back as she gave a short, sharp cry of intense pleasure, accidentally letting an orgasm creep over her before she'd even managed to take half of Flintclaw's cock, said it all, with equal parts smugness, pleasure, and satisfaction. It was the look of a true god of sex, a stud of quality being recognized for his true worth by someone who deserved and could properly appreciate what he could do.

Her body seeming to freeze up, all Luna could do as she shuddered through her first orgasm with a man's cock inside of her was sit tight, her hips rolling back and forth as waves of pleasure washed over her, wracking her trim young frame until it seemed almost more than she could bear. Then Luna felt Flintclaw's hands move from beneath her bottom to seize hold of her hips, even as he rose up, tilting her back onto the bed. Instinctively, she tried to spread her legs as Flintclaw settled himself on top of her, taking command of the situation in true alpha style, but he simply moved his arms to either side of her hips, pressing her legs together with his forearms, causing her inner walls to squeeze down even more tightly around that massive wolfen shaft, letting Luna feel just how big Flintclaw really was. Then Flintclaw's rump tensed, his tail lifting high, and he started to thrust. Instantly Luna's mouth dropped open, her hands going to Flintclaw's chest, gripping the fur there tightly. With her knees pressing into her stomach, her feet on Flintclaw's shoulders, Luna felt her whole world starting to reel as she cried out loudly for a long moment, unable to keep quiet as Flintclaw took her to the very depths of her being, his angle of thrusting hitting spots inside of her that she'd felt momentarily when making love with Sheru. At that time, however, Luna had her attention split by the orcs that were watching. Now, it was just her and Flintclaw, and she held nothing back, hunching her hips back against his in time with his thrusts, her hands grabbing his hard-muscled butt, pulling him in, not letting him pull back even if he'd wanted to do so.

Her whole body flushed with warmth, Sheru realized that things were coming to a head when Luna finally cried out, the most noise the two lovers had made through their entire lovemaking session while trying not to alert anyone else to what they were doing. The young wizardess gaped as she saw Luna's fingers, quite by accident, press into a spot just beneath Flintclaw's tail. This just drove the flame-furred wolfen into mating overdrive, snarling and growling like the lusty beast he was as he started to _nail_Luna with a will, no longer holding himself back. Baring his fangs, his whole face a mask of tension, his eyes squeezing shut, every muscle of his back and bottom and legs, visible from where Sheru was crouching by the side of the bed, able to see all of the action with perfect clarity, tensed, standing out with perfect definition. Beneath him, Luna squirmed, trying to lift herself up in the throes of her own intense ecstasy, but unable to do so with Flintclaw's much greater weight upon her. Sheru started back with a soft gasp as she saw a spurt of copious white liquid splash onto the sheets, escaping around where Flintclaw's cock was spreading open Luna's cunny lips. Another spurt followed the first, catching Sheru on the bridge of her nose with a few tiny droplets, it came out with such force, and another, though this one was less violent than the first two.

After these initial explosions, a copious quantity of the whitish stuff began to seep out of Luna's well-stretched cunny around Flintclaw's cock, and Sheru realized with a start that this must be Flintclaw's semen. There was so much of it! Neither of the books she'd read on the subject said anything about how much there would be of it. They'd certainly said nothing about the taste, which Sheru quickly discovered for herself when, after wiping the droplets off her face with one dainty hand, she simply couldn't resist the urge to...sample it. Just a little.

Research, that's all it had been, or so Sheru told herself as she started to quietly slip away. This was a subject about which she had too little solid information, and she'd just been trying to gather research data, like any proper scholar should. Luna seemed to have dozed off, and Flintclaw was breathing heavily on top of her, so it was unlikely that either of them would notice that she'd been there, and even less when she...oh!

Flintclaw turned his head, panting tiredly, his grin broad and happy. His brilliant blue eyes met Sheru's, catching her, freezing her in place. With a slow, lazy, deliberate movement, Flintclaw shifted on top of Luna, letting his heavy cock pop free of her copiously-leaking cunny, before he rolled over onto his back, now facing towards Sheru. The big wolfen propped himself up on his elbows, his smile knowing as he regarded the teenaged wizardess. Then Flintclaw motioned with his head, giving the blonde girl an obvious 'come hither' gesture. Already his heavy penis was starting to swell once more, and Sheru found that, the longer she stood there under the wolfen's commanding gaze, the less power she had to maintain her self-mastery.

Panicking, Sheru muttered the words to a spell she'd saved for emergencies, and instantly vanished from sight. As quickly as she dared without waking Luna, the now-invisible, blue-robed wizardess fled the room.

Blinking in some surprise, Flintclaw then shrugged, grinning to himself in a very smug fashion as he slipped an arm under Luna's body and pulled her close to his thick-furred frame, the mocha-skinned girl instinctively snuggling up against his warmth. Like all skilled hunters, he knew his chosen prey when he saw it. It was only a matter of time before Flintclaw would have his chosen prey right where he wanted her. But then, a bit of a chase just made the eventual rewards just that much sweeter.

*

Out in the dark of the night, Tornan's dark fur blended in almost perfectly. Though still fairly young, not quite out of his teens, Tornan had been one of the better rangers of his former tribe. He'd always just had a knack for blending into his environs, using his keen senses to position himself to maximum effect, and then to leap out to claim his prey with a combination of technique and determination. Of course, Tornan had discovered that similar methods worked just as well in his many efforts at flirtation and seduction.

Perhaps it was his connection with the natural world taken a little too far. Maybe it was because all that time he spent alone in the woods, away from others, made it that much harder to control himself when he was finally back with those he could speak to. Then again, he could just be an insatiable horndog from the day he was born, and there was nothing to be done about it. Whatever the reason, Tornan _loved_sex and everything related to it. More than that, he loved the progression of events that eventually led up to sex, just as he loved the thrill of the hunt far more than the final kill. And even more than that, Tornan really, really loved to please others. Knowing that somebody was happy with his efforts was the single most gratifying repeatable event in Tornan's young life, and it was Flintclaw's appreciation for Tornan that had earned the spawn of Fenrath the young wolfen's undying loyalty.

Right now, Tornan's sense of duty to his new companions was locked in a heated conflict with his lusty nature. Unfortunately, his sense of duty was losing. The moon that night was shining down brightly, and that part of the hills, near the orcish camp, was sparsely-wooded, making all the surrounding landscape easy for Tornan to see, while also allowing him to quietly blend into the brush near the treeline, letting him see while not being seen, stripping out of all his clothing and armor save for his loincloth to better blend into the night, not expecting to do any serious fighting. He had seen the lovely elven priestess Eärlindë moving off along the side of the mountain, while her two bodyguards slipped silently into the woods themselves, obviously on the lookout for anything that might endanger their mistress. Tornan, naturally, had no intention of doing anything to endanger the beautiful high elven woman. Rather, what he wanted most was to talk to her, and perhaps, if she was willing, pick up where they had been so rudely interrupted before.

Slipping like a shadow through the woods, Tornan put his sensitive wolfen nose to work, crouching on all-fours as he made his way forward, along the route he thought he had last seen the elven maiden traveling. Immediately his eyes widened, and his loincloth was pushed to the side as his wolflike penis sprang unbidden from his sheath at full readiness. The scent that had struck Tornan's nostrils was sweet, and no mistaking it, but it was more than the scent that had aroused him so. Rather, it was the instinctual message carried by the pheromones that laced the scent. Though she almost certainly didn't know it, the nubile elven priestess was deliciously fertile, a rarity for elves with their slow process of reproduction. To Tornan, this was the scent of a female in heat, and he was the most handy male for filling the needs of that female's empty womb.

Losing some of his stealth in his eagerness to catch up to Eärlindë and renew their prior acquaintance - for hadn't she said she'd wanted to make it up to the wolfen for the danger she'd put them through? - Tornan soon heard the sound of splashing water, and slowed his approach, remembering stealth, knowing that his standing with the beautiful elfmaid was still in question. She wasn't like some she-wolfen who might mate with any available healthy and attractive male because she was in the mood. She was an elf, and elves had to be approached with a lighter, more subtle touch.

His reason as well as his stealth returned, Tornan started to consider what he'd say to the enchanting elfmaid, how he'd try to make her laugh, perhaps think of a few common points of interest, then suggest a little walk in the moonlight. An opportunity would open up somewhere along the line, surely. But when Tornan stuck his nose between the bushes, peering out to where his sense of smell told him Eärlindë was, he stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping, eyes mesmerized by the sight before him, all thought of charm and subtlety lost in an instant.

The bright moonlight shone down on a low, sparkling waterfall that tumbled down from a crack in the rocks above, feeding a small crystal pool, keeping it sweet and clean, the light of the moon turning the rippling water into liquid silver. Before the pool, shed of her robes, was Eärlindë, dancing naked beneath the moon. Her smooth, flawless elven body was like marble beneath the silver light of the moon, the rippling water sending strange and exotic patterns flickering over her alabaster skin. The dance was slow, sensual, a thing of exquisite beauty, made all the more beautiful by the willowy limbs and supple curves of the elven priestess. In those parts of his mind that were still working, Tornan knew what Eärlindë was doing; she was enacting the dance of praise to Velos, the Great Stag, and to Sylver, the Silver Alicorn, done after the blood of enemies to the elves and to nature was shed. The dance was intended to catch the attention of both god and goddess, and to appeal to them to bring back nymphs and other fey creatures to a region so that an area, once tainted by evil, could be fully and properly restored once more.

Her dance finished, Eärlindë came to a stop, her eyes closed, her lovely breasts with their perfect pink nipples heaving as she caught her breath. Though she didn't know it, she was facing directly towards where Tornan crouched hidden in the bushes, his hand wrapping almost unconsciously around his raging red erection, giving the extended knot at the base a soft squeeze. Stroking her hands down her body, wiping away some of the sweat that dripped down her face, her slender shoulders, her bounteous breasts, and her flat belly, Eärlindë smiled to herself, turning to face the waterfall as her eyes opened once more. The place had been properly consecrated now, and soon she knew in her heart that at least one nymph would find her way to this place, or perhaps a unicorn, and the area would become truly cleansed with a guardian to watch over it. Now, however, she needed to cleanse herself as well, having used her own bow to shed blood, and needing to refresh herself, body and spirit, so that she could return to her role as cleric of Velos.

It was all that Tornan could do to stifle the whimper that rose in his throat as the beauteous elfmaid stepped into the shallow water, which was only up to her shins while she stood, and knelt, facing away from him, her perfect, pert little bottom resting on her heels, showing off its exquisite heart shape. That whimper finally did escape him as she bent forward, exposing just the barest hint of the tender, inviting folds of her elfsmooth labia, lifting up handfuls of water to run them over herself, wetting her skin, making it glisten in the moonlight, before, now accustomed to the chill of the water, she rose once more and walked toward the waterfall.

Utterly rapt on the scene before him, Tornan was hardly even aware of his hand pumping the aching shaft extended between his legs until, quite suddenly, he felt the prick of a blade against his back. Gasping in shock, caught utterly unawares, Tornan froze, swallowing nervously.

"So, we were right, eh, Ambrae," said one of the blue-skinned moon elves, looking down at the crouching black-furred wolfen, holding a curved elven blade to his back. "This one was intending ill upon our mistress."

"So it seems, Fieryat," said the other moon elf, her blade now lightly pressing against Tornan's chest, though she seemed unconvinced. "Still, it is best that we let our mistress decide his fate. We don't want a repeat of our last mistake."

"Very well," said the first moon elf, Fieryat, prodding Tornan in the back a little more firmly before drawing the blade back. "Get up, you filthy animal. You're about to get just what you deserve."

The start of the moon elf's sentence had begun confident and scornful. The end, however, trailed off on an uncertain note as Tornan did indeed get to his feet, his ears turned down in a wolfen blush as his proud, prominent erection bobbed in a most naughty greeting as he stood up. Both elves stood there, blinking in bewilderment as they stared at the rather generous amount of hard wolfmeat that was presented before them.

"I don't suppose you can tuck this away before we take you to meet Priestess Nénharma?" asked the second twin, Ambrae, lightly stroking the blunt inward-turned curve of her elfblade along the underside of Tornan's erection. Her eyebrows raised in some surprise as he trembled, sending a hard spurt of precum that very nearly landed on her cheek, if she hadn't stepped to the side.

"Sorry..." said Tornan, his head and ears down, tail tucked between his legs, the very picture of contrition. He desperately wished that the armor of the two elven women wasn't so very revealing, exposing much of their long, supple legs, and a more than generous portion of blue cleavage, for they were both quite busty, as well as leaving their flat, well-muscled stomachs bare to his view. Their green elfcloaks were the only things that gave them some degree of real modesty, and that wasn't helping right then because they'd cast their cloaks open, all the better to wield their weapons, sword and dagger. And they both smelled so very, very nice, the mouth-watering scent of elven women unlike that of any other race on Therafim, something like a light, sweet pastry, at least to Tornan's way of thinking. What made it even worse, of course, was that the blue-skinned twins were almost as fertile as their mistress.

If Tornan had dared to look either of the pair in the eyes, he might have seen the look that passed between them. Both of them had flushed cheeks. Ambrae's seemed to be so because of an attraction to the cute black wolfen, who didn't seem like the sort to hurt anybody, and was obviously rather young, with an almost puppyish innocence about him, besides those sweet, soulful brown eyes. Fieryat, on the other hand, seemed quite distressed, verging on anger, at the presence of horny little wolf ("little" being a relative term, of course, since he would have stood a head taller than them both, if he wasn't hunched down in a submissive posture right then), who she also found attractive, but her elven sensibilities told her that such thoughts were disgusting, as he was of a lesser race, even lower than humans, though at least he was a step above monsters like orcs.

"Get walking," Fieryat snapped at Tornan, giving him a shove with one hand. "We'll let the priestess decide your fate. And believe me, I don't expect it'll go well for you."

Eärlindë Nénharma had just let out her long hair from its intricate braiding, letting it flow around her like a platinum blonde waterfall, its ends brushing around the perfect swells of her bottom, and had just been about to step into the actual waterfall before her when she heard a soft whimper from behind her. Her hands going to cover her modesty (for despite what many thought of elves, she was actually quite modest by nature, at least as far as complete nudity went), she turned to face whoever it was approaching her from behind. Of course, though she had a very brief moment of fright, it had passed almost instantly, and was quite gone by the time she was completely turned around; Eärlindë trusted her bodyguards implicitly, and knew that, so long as they were around, she was safe, as they had kept her safe since she was a mere infant. When she saw who it was marching between her indigo-skinned bodyguards, she couldn't help but giggle slightly: Tornan just looked so adorable! Poor thing, she felt rather sorry for him, though, with his ears down and tail between his legs, looking so very ashamed of himself. Of course she remembered him from before: she had very nearly offered him her virginity in a situation not at all dissimilar from this one, except at that time there had been three wolfen and only one elf, while now the numbers were reversed.

"We took this prisoner while he was spying on you, Priestess Nénharma," said Fieryat with an irritable scowl at Tornan, giving him a shove forward, which made him fall to his knees on the soft grass right next to the pool. This made his quite erect penis bob as his tail lowered slightly, and Eärlindë blushed as she noticed just how very hard he was already. "Shall we punish him for his insolence?"

"Certainly not, Fieryat," exclaimed Eärlindë, rushing forward to embrace the kneeling Tornan, whose eyes widened, tail wagging happily as this thrust his head firmly between the perfect, pillowy breasts of the elfmaid. "He's not a hurtful beast. Actually, I'm quite glad he came. His company was most welcome before." Then she glanced down, blinking at the feeling of something hard poking her in her legs. Releasing her hold on Tornan slightly, Eärlindë looked down, her eyes widening at the sight of the erect wolfcock standing determinedly between the wolfen's legs. "Oh my," she said admiringly. "Is this because of me? Oh, you poor thing!" Tornan gave a soft whimper as the beautiful elfmaid reached down, and gently wrapped her fingers around his turgid shaft. "This must be very painful for you. Here, let me help you feel better."

Fieryat and Ambrae watched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as the priestess of their enclave, the most sacred personage there, began to slowly stroke the dark red penis of a beastman. Tornan, meanwhile, was obviously very much enjoying the sensation, his eyes soon growing heavy-lidded, his tongue lolling out as his body shivered, hips thrusting slowly, keeping time with Eärlindë's own stroking hand.

"Such a good boy," Eärlindë cooed like she might over a puppy, even as precum leaked onto her dainty elven fingers. "Such a very good boy. You wouldn't ever do anything to hurt me, would you, Tornan?" Smiling at the vigorous shake of the young wolfen's head, Eärlindë just barely suppressed a giggle as she began pumping her hand a little faster up and down the smooth, warm, moist length in her hand. "You just want to make me happy, don't you?" This time the nod was so eager, and coupled with an energetic round of tail wagging, that Eärlindë did giggle. "You were doing something _very_nice for me the last time we were together like this," she continued, her smile turning eager, her cheeks flushing at the memory. "I'd like it if you did it again, this time finishing what you started."

Releasing her grip on Tornan's bestial-looking penis, Eärlindë turned away from him to step out of the pool, water dripping from her elfsmooth, milk-skinned body. Feeling Tornan's eyes on her as she walked, the sensation leaving her feeling so very sexy, so very desirable, the elven woman walked the short distance to where the rock face of the mountain met the soft grass near the pool, then bent forward, placing her hands on the rugged stone. Among her own people, her position as priestess put her outside the reach of most other elves, male or female. Her eventual marriage would be an arranged thing, as were most marriages among the high elves, sometime after her hundredth birthday, when she reached what elves considered "true" majority. That didn't mean that Eärlindë didn't feel the passions of youth, or the temptation of desire, but she was expected to be a paragon of purity at all times among her own people. Right now, however, she wasn't among her own people, Tornan was certainly no elven male who might violate the taboos of her people, and the temptation was proving too much for her to bear.

Fieryat and Ambrae just looked at each other in bewilderment, not knowing what to say or to do as they watched their priestess, their holy charge for whom they would gladly sacrifice their own lives, eagerly and completely willingly offer herself to a creature that wasn't just sub-elf, he was also sub-human! Tornan, however, had no hesitation, and rose to his feet, walking eagerly to where the lovely young elfmaid stood, presenting herself to him like a proper female in heat should. The blue-skinned twins watched in rapt, almost morbid fascination (and, though neither would admit it to the other, rising arousal) as Tornan knelt once more, this time directly behind Eärlindë, who wiggled her smooth, bouncy bottom as the black-furred brute seized hold of it, giggling in aroused anticipation as he kneaded her soft flesh beneath his strong paws, his muzzle thrusting forward to snuffle at her nicely-swollen female treasure.

Ambrae bit her lower lip, while Fieryat swallowed, trying to wet her dry mouth, as they watched the wolfen's muzzle part, and a tongue, so long and so thick neither of them could quite comprehend what he was going to do with it, unfurled, and then pressed upward, against the elfmaid's willing, sensitive flesh. The shapely high elf cooed at the new sensation, her buns tensing a little as she sucked in her breath at the feel of his cold nose against her squeaky clean anus. This sensation quickly passed as the wolfen slowly, carefully, squeezed his smooth tongue inside of her, getting a good, long taste of her intoxicatingly sweet, virgin inner places - for Flintclaw had carefully stretched her maidenhead with his fingers until it almost seemed to melt away on their first meeting, leaving no barrier to cause her pain at this, her intended first time, when she felt so alive, so filled with the raw, primal passion of the Wild.

Then Tornan's tongue withdrew, and his lips closed around her quim, the size of his muzzle allowing him to easily engulf her entire little cunny. The sounds of wet, luscious slurping soon started to fill the night, easily audible even over the splashing of the waterfall as the black-furred wolfen started to gently, toothlessly gnaw on the elfwoman's succulent pink places. For a moment, Eärlindë had her breath taken away. Then, her entire body arching, she gave a loud cry, her fingers clawing at the rock, her body shaking as orgasm took her for the first time that night. The first of what she prayed to Velos would be a great many.

"Priestess!" exclaimed Fieryat, taking a step forward, her blade raised, read to strike the beast that had dared to harm her mistress. Embrae was only a step behind, though her blade wasn't raised to the ready like that of her sister. Tornan, however, utterly consumed with dedication to his task of eating out the elfmaid's juicy cunny, drunk on pleasure and raw instinct, ignored them, focusing instead on continuing his loving assault, his tongue lashing back and forth over Eärlindë's clitoris, making her whole body jerk from side to side with bolts of raw pleasure.

"No!" the elven priestess finally got out in desperation as she saw her bodyguards drawing near, raising one trembling hand. "It's...all right. He's not - ah! - not huring meeeeeee!" Her voice raised to a high-pitched squeal as she was forced to squeeze her eyes tightly shut as Tornan's tongue slithered within her once more, rasping lovingly over her G-spot. "Why don't...why don't you both get undressed too?" the elfmaid suggested, her cheeks flushed as she looked at the moon elves through lowered lashes. "It might help you relax."

Ears perking instantly as he heard this suggestion, which somehow filtered through to his lust-clouded brain, Tornan's eyes widened, and he pulled his muzzle back, though only slightly, just enough that he could turn his gaze to either side, looking up at the two blue-skinned elven women hopefully even as he continued to dab his tongue at Eärlindë's sweet, heavily-leaking little cunny. Embrae's eyebrows raised at the suggestion, but then she looked at her sister, who was just staring in gape-mouthed shock at such indecency, and shrugged, before unclasping her cloak, letting it fall to the grass. One advantage of the carefully-crafted elfmail that she and her sister wore was that it could be removed quite swiftly, and donned again with only a little less swiftness. Reaching up, she unlocked two clasps between her breasts, and another one on each shoulder, then undid her belt, letting it drop as well, before she bent forward, sliding her mail, with its undercoat of soft padding, down her body as she did so, her heavy breasts dangling right in front of the wide brown eyes of the cute wolfmale.

Without thinking, just as Ambrae was just starting to stand up, Tornan reached out a paw, gently, lovingly stroking his palm along the underside of Ambrae's breast, before he curled his surprisingly skilled fingertips upward in circular fashion, teasing them around her erect nipples, which were an even darker shade of blue than the rest of her skin. Letting her armor fall to the ground, leaving her naked save for her calf-high boots, Ambrae allowed Tornan to repeat this pleasing motion on her other breast, and then slowly straightened, stepping a little closer. She wasn't disappointed, as Tornan slid his hand between her legs, and soon began to work his fingers into her already juicy cunny, his palm rubbing firmly against her indigo clitty.

Seeing her sister so readily yield herself to the touch of a lowly beast, Fieryat almost turned away in disgust. Almost. There was a strong part of her, however, that didn't want to turn away, but rather, wanted to become a part of the erotic tableau unfolding before her. Squelching that part of her as best as she could, Fieryat finally turned away hastily, tossing her cloak to the ground, and then starting to unbuckle belt and armor, just as her sister had done, for she was only doing this to please her mistress, or so she told herself. As she was bending to push her mail to the ground, however, Fieryat gave a sudden gasp of surprise as she felt a strong, firm hand on her presented bare blue bottom. She hadn't been careful enough to step away from the filthy wolfen, and he'd reached out with one paw to stroke his palm over her firmly-rounded rump. Her mouth starting to open to cast out words of anger, Fieryat instead bit her lip to stifle a whimper as the wolfen's fingers deftly slipped between her legs, parting the moon elf's tightly-clasped cunny lips, as smooth and blue as the rest of her beautiful, battle-toned body. Soon, finding her lip wasn't enough, Fieryat bit into her forearm next as Tornan's fingers found her clitoris, and the withering glare she had intended to shoot at the disgustingly sexy beast faltered and failed as she looked into his sweet brown eyes, so filled with an eagerness to please, and lacking any malice. Seeing those eyes, Fieryat knew that all this wolfen wanted to do was bring her, her sister, and her mistress pleasure, to make them feel good. Despite her former resolve, she couldn't find it in her to berate him or to stop him. And, of course, it did feel good. Very, very good.

As Fieryat lowered herself to her knees, bending forward to rest her palms on the ground, and Ambrae stepped a little closer, spreading her legs wider, Tornan smoothly slid the fingers of each hand into the clenching cunnies of each elven guardian, even as he redoubled his oral attentions to Eärlindë's precious treasures. In mere minutes, he was rewarded with a sweet cry from the alabaster-skinned elfmaid, who, trembling, slid to her knees on the ground before him, still facing toward the rock face of the mountains, her perfect, heart-shaped bottom resting on her heels. Giving the beautiful, blue-skinned elfsisters an apologetic look, Tornan pulled his fingers free of their slits, then took firm hold of Eärlindë's hips. The young elven priestess gasped softly as she felt Tornan's soft chestfur against her smooth back, whimpered gently as felt herself tilted slightly forward, and then gave a long, loud moan as she felt the pointed tip of his wolfcock find her succulent slit, and then squeeze slowly, smoothly into her very depths, spreading her open so very, very fully, until she felt her flushed cunny lips pressing against the thick, bestial knot at the base of his lupine shaft.

Fieryat and Embrae watched with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, each of them now kneeling on either side of where Tornan and Eärlindë were coupling, to get a better view of what the wolfen was doing to their priestess, as Tornan worked his knees forward, gradually getting his hips beneath Eärlindë's, who spread her legs apart to accommodate him. His strong arms encircling her slender waist, just below her full and perfect breasts, Tornan started to hunch his hips upward, at the same time helping Eärlindë to ride his hips like a saddle. Every few thrusts, as Eärlindë eagerly and loudly voiced her rising pleasure in her sweet elven voice, Tornan would pause, thrust almost to the hilt inside of her, only his knot squeezing tightly against her cunny lips, and start to move his hips, to grind his cock against her quivering cunny. This caused his knot to both rub against Eärlindë's clitoris, and also to gradually stretch her heavily-leaking cunny open, just a little bit more each time, before he would pull back, making Eärlindë cry out again with the loss of that sensation of stretching, before he started thrusting again. The twin moon elves couldn't tear their eyes away, drawing closer and closer still, as Tornan suddenly pulled Eärlindë down onto his shaft, and then kept adding pressure, until, suddenly, his swollen knot popped inside of her.

"Great Velos!" wailed the elfmaid in ecstasy, grabbing her own full breasts in her dainty hands, just above where Tornan's strong arms gripped her, her fingertips squeezing down on the adorably pink nipples until they turned almost white. "It's so...OOOOH!"

Eärlindë's cry of passion was extended, drawn out for long minutes on end, wavering slightly with the sudden, passionate thrusting of the wolfen. Once Tornan had sunk his knot into the ripe elven femme, securing his place as the sire to her pups, he stopped holding back, his black-furred balls slapping against her pubis while his hips slapped her pearl pink bottom until it darkened to a light raspberry color, the short length of cock beneath his knot jerking back and forth inside Eärlindë's quim while his knot spread her open so very, very wide. She was wailing in the Sylvan tongue used by the elves, her words almost incoherent with pleasure as she squirmed madly on Tornan's lap, only held in place by his strong arms and his knot. Then, giving a low, bestial grunt, Tornan felt his own orgasm come on him in a rush, leaning his head heavily on Eärlindë's shoulder as he began to spurt his potent, virile wolfcum into her smooth, slick elfcunny, his knot ensuring not a single drop would be wasted.

"Oh," gasped Eärlindë softly, her voice almost spent now with the satisfying tiredness that comes from perfect bliss, her arms lifting to encircle Tornan's neck, holding him as she kissed his muzzle and the top of his head and the tip of his black-padded nose between words. "Oh, it's so warm...and there's so much of it."

Nuzzling the elven priestess' cheek tenderly, Tornan's hands stroked her body, slowly and lovingly. She would be the mother of his pups, after all, and she deserved only the best of treatment. Of course, Tornan knew that he'd have to present his mate to his alpha, Flintclaw, so that his alpha could establish dominance, and so that the Pack could grow more closely together as the new female was shared between his packmates, the scent of the whole pack infusing her body, their seed mingling in her womb, so that none would know who the true father was, the children accepted by all for mentoring and affection. This was only proper, after all, in Tornan's traditionally wolfen way of thinking, and a far better thing than the ancient days, when only the alpha of a wolfen tribe was allowed to sire offspring. Tornan knew enough about elves to know that their reproductive cycles were very slow, and it was only a matter of the gods' own blessed luck that he'd come upon three right at the peak of their time of breeding, and he had every intention of sharing that luck with his packmates. The slowness of their cycle also meant that, provided his packmates enjoyed the elfwomen within the week, it really would be impossible to tell who the father was, except by the most obvious of physical traits.

Flush with the knowledge that, if all continued as it had been going, he had caused the ranks of his new pack to swell by three immediately, with three (or more!) on the way, Tornan carefully worked his knot free of Eärlindë's clinging cunny, a copious quantity of his juices and hers flooding the grass beneath their knees. Just as gently, he lowered her to the soft grass, and then reached out, taking hold of one of the cloaks of the blue-skinned moon elves, tenderly wrapping it around her lovely, smooth body, protecting her from the slight chill of the night.

Watching all this, Ambrae shivered as the eyes of the black-furred wolfen swung around to fix on her and her twin. Almost unconsciously, when Tornan's fingers had left her dripping slit, Ambrae had replaced them with her own. Thus, she was already right on the edge, and the look the sexy young male was giving her didn't help any. It was a strange expression to Ambrae's elven eyes, something that no elf could have ever pulled off, a combination of puppyish innocence and very adult eagerness. Calling it just an "expression" seemed inadequate as well, because the wolfen's whole body was a part of it, expressing his desires for her and her sister, his eagerness to please them, and also his willingness to accept their wishes if they rejected him, though it was obvious such a thing would make his ears and tail droop quite sadly indeed, his cock retaining its throbbing hardness until he was forced to satisfy himself in desperation.

Smirking a little, Ambrae glanced at Fieryat, trying to catch her sister's attention to gauge her willingness to go along with the desires of this eager male. The other moon elf was staring, transfixed, at Tornan's cock, and didn't seem to be able to notice anything else right then, her cheeks heavily flushed to an even darker indigo with a combination of arousal and indignation, the two obviously warring within her for dominance. Obviously something had to be done about this if Ambrae was going to get her sister's attention.

Her mind made up, Ambrae scooted on her knees over the short distance separating her from where her sister was also kneeling, and caught her sister's chin in her hand. Starting slightly, Fieryat looked into Ambrae's bright elf eyes, her own eyes widening with surprise and arousal before they closed, and she kissed her sister back, her hands stroking the smooth lines of Ambrae's back and sides in an embrace the sisters had shared many times before (incest not being an elven taboo so long as it didn't produce offspring, and hence not at all restricted for siblings of the same sex).

Being a century in age gave Ambrae a certain subtlety to her movements that exceeded even that of very old humans. In this case, it allowed her to catch Tornan's eye - for the young wolfen wasn't looking anywhere but at the two sisters, his ears and cock equally perked in the most intense interest - and make the slightest motion with her head toward Fieryat, all the while keeping her sister occupied as one hand stroked the other elfwoman's back, the other gently caressing Fieryat's moist, yielding pudenda. Tornan got the hint in a flash, nodding eagerly, his tongue lolling out in a smile that made Embrae almost giggle into her sister's kiss, if only her tongue wasn't already so very occupied. The next thing Fieryat knew, a pair of strong but not-ungentle wolfen paws were stroking her sides, cupping her full, buoyant breasts. She started to resist, but stiffened as those talented fingers stroked the tender undersides of her beautiful blue orbs, and then lovingly began to roll and squeeze her perked nipples. Before she could muster any more resistance, her sister was leaning back, pulling Fieryat with her, both of Embrae's hands going to Fieryat's bottom as the other moon elf found herself on all-fours, spreading her sister wide open in clear invitation to the charming young wolfen who had so recently planted his seed in their young charge.

Her breasts squeezed firmly against Embrae's, her hard and sensitive nipples rubbing against her sister's with every movement, Fieryat's eyes widened in rising trepidation as she felt the wolfen's paws move to her hips. He was going to mount her like she was some...some mere beast! The very idea caused Fieryat to push against the ground on either side of her sister, to thrust herself back and up and away from this madness. Perhaps she might have been able to carry out this plan, if it weren't for the proud, stiff wolfcock immediately behind Fieryat, and as she pushed herself firmly back and away from Embrae, breaking the kiss that had held her captive, she promptly plunged a good half of that lupine prick into her smooth, slick blue pussy before she even realized what was happening. Her eyes going wide with shock, her mouth dropping open, Fieryat could do nothing else as the wolfen behind her gave a joyful yelp_of pleasure as her elftight cunny wrapped around his shaft so perfectly, before his hips started to energetically _thrust_forward and back, slapping against her bottom while his balls slapped her inner thighs. Just like that, Fieryat realized that she was being humped like an animal! And that (worst of all) it felt _good!

The pleasure caught up with Fieryat before her racial indignation could, and before she knew what was happening, Fieryat's back was arching, her head lowering as she cried out loudly with her rising pleasure, thrusting her bottom back against the eager, rapid thrusts of the wicked _animal_that was mounting her as though she were some common she-wolf. Ambrae's mouth was suddenly everywhere, and Fieryat cried out again, and again, as lewd, slick, wet sounds filled the night, coming from her sister mauling and sucking eagerly on the cockstuffed moon elf's breasts as well as Tornan pounding her pussy for all she was worth.

Without knowing it, Fieryat had been on-edge for so long, almost from the moment she and Ambrae had run across the black-furred wolfen in the forest, his hard dong on full, shameless display. As the brutal, savage, pleasure-filled minutes pounded themselves away, Fieryat found that all the tension that had been building up, and which she'd been fighting all the time, came crashing down on her in overwhelming waves. Her hands mauled her twin's breasts, her hips lowering so that she could grind against Ambrae's mons with her own, letting Tornan's heavy balls slap wetly against the lower moon elf's quim with each rapidfire thrust of his pumping hips, making Ambrae cry out at the same time as Fieryat, sharing their passion as their lithe bodies writhed against each other.

These cries were suddenly cut off as a smooth, pearl-pink pubis appeared before the sights of both moon elves. It was Eärlindë! The young priestess stepped forward, then knelt over Ambrae's head, stroking her delicate fingers through Fieryat's hair.

"Pleasure me," she commanded, and instantly, both her bodyguards obeyed, their eager mouths licking and sucking everywhere over Eärlindë's flushed and very juicy elfbits.

This was too much for Tornan, watching the heavy, gravity-defying breasts of the flushed and beautiful elfmaid heave, her mouth open as she voiced her rising pleasure. Acting on the moment, feeling himself right on the edge, he bent over, and roughly, savagely seized Eärlindë by her slender waist with one paw, the other still holding tight to Fieryat's hip, and kissed her like the brute he was. At the same time, he slammed his hips against Fieryat's perfect buns, making them bounce even as he popped his knot into place inside of her. Fieryat immediately started to squeal in a shared orgasm, the sound muffled as she squeezed her mouth tightly against Eärlindë's cunny, making the high elf cry out, its sound also muffled as she wriggled against Tornan's muzzle and powerful hand.

Ambrae had just let her head lower, watching with wide, excited eyes as her twin jerked and tensed in orgasm right along with her young mistress. Her eyes and mouth both opened even wider, however, as Tornan, not even letting his knot shrink all the way, pulled it with a messy gush of juices from Fieryat's cunny, and then thrust downward with almost brutal force, making Ambrae cry out loudly as her sopping wet cunny was suddenly filled to the brim with hard, throbbing wolfcock. In her desperation to do something, anything, Ambrae lifted her head once more, passionately kissing her sister, their tongues dueling with familiar talent...with Eärlindë's clitty right between them.

Both of Tornan's hands were almost savagely mauling Eärlindë's breasts, even as her lovebutton was being ravished by the talented tongues of both her bodyguards. His primal savagery was made even more urgent by his thrusting hips, which were moving at an almost breakneck pace, forcing himself to retain his arousal, not letting himself lose his raging erection until he'd finished breeding each of the three sexy elfwomen who writhed willingly in his clutches. Obviously lacking skill in the matter, Eärlindë nevertheless did her best to kiss Tornan back, shivering a little as her dainty elftongue stroked against his much larger, wonderfully smooth wolftongue, that little extra stimulation all it took to make her climax once again, her eyes rolling back into her head as her hands gripped at Tornan's chestfur as though she were seeking any handhold to escape the engulfing flood. Tornan was hardly far behind her, and when Ambrae shuddered in sympathetic orgasm to those of her sister and her mistress, the sudden increase in her slick tightness was more than poor Tornan could bear, cumming hard inside of the moon elf woman only minutes after he'd seeded her twin sister, his knot just barely not locking inside of Ambrae as she kicked her legs against the ground, rubbing her elfsmooth body against Fieryat's even as he eagerly slurped up every drop of Eärlindë's juices that she could reach.

Despite all his youth and vigor, after three truly intense orgasms in rapid succession, Tornan couldn't find it in himself to get his cock to harden again, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, while letting his much-used penis shrink back into the safety of its protective, fuzzy sheathe, Tornan bent his muzzle, putting his oral skills to work in the stead of his cock. As he released Eärlindë, she lay back on the soft grass, arching her hips upward to allow her bodyguards to work their tongues against and inside of her quivering quim and (most teasingly) her tense anal rosebud. Tornan, in turn, lavished oral attention on the tightly-pressed cunnies of the twins, making them wriggle and writhe in time with their mistress.

The moon shone down brightly, approvingly, on them all, as the night was filled with the sounds of exquisite, primal passion.

*

As a new day dawned, and the party started off toward Tia and Luna's town to return the women they'd saved from their horrible fates, either as sacrifices in a dark ritual or as breeding stock for orcs, Urla was also busily engaged. It had taken the spiky-maned orc woman until nightfall to free herself, even with the dagger Flintclaw had returned to her stuck in the dirt between her legs. That had made it child's-play to free her ankles, but her wrists were another matter entirely, and she'd been forced to scrape her arms against the tree to which she was bound for hours on end. Still, when Flintclaw did indeed check on the tree where he'd bound the green-skinned warrior woman, he'd been rather disappointed, though not at all surprised, to find the ropes lying discarded on the ground, and no other sign of his former captive.

Not wasting any more time than she'd had to, Urla had headed toward her camp, only to watch as the first explosion of fire from Sheru's spells had lit up the night. Decided she didn't want to be a part of that, Urla had instead held back, waiting and watching. Her brother was the warchief, after all, and though neither cared much for the other sibling, Urla knew that if he couldn't win against the attackers, she wouldn't fare much better. So instead of charging into the fray and a certain death, she'd held back in the dark woods, watching from the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity to profit from the carnage that ensued.

That opportunity arrived unexpectedly, not in the form of any traditional plunder, but rather in the form of recruits. After their alpha was slain in a maelstrom of fire while trying to charge at the blue-robed wizardess from behind (she hadn't even noticed him coming - he'd just been caught in the second explosion as Sheru did her best to be thorough), and several of their number were badly singed. the other worgs quickly decided that they'd had enough, and bolted for the woods. There, Urla had spent much of the night gathering the survivors of the doom that had been visited upon the rest of both their tribes, finally tallying up four worgs who accepted her as their new alpha, even though she wasn't even of their species. Times were hard, and the worgs recognized a born leader when they saw one, even if she had green skin instead of dark fur.

"Looks like we start from scratch," Urla muttered mostly to herself as she tended a campfire on the second night, several miles away from the scene of her warband's demise. "Huh, no wonder we orcs end up so nasty," she said with a wry smirk. "Our menfolk and leaders keep getting themselves killed, and the rising generation have to figure out their places without any guidance. Any survivors just figure that's the way the world is, and they drive the next batch of brats to just be that much tougher, that much meaner, that much more filled with rage and hate." She ignored the derisive snort of one of the four worgs that sprawled nearby, his head on his paws as he idly watched the haunch of deer spitted over the fire roast for Urla's breakfast. "There's gotta be a better way."

"Perhaps there is, warchief Urla Gorewolf," said a deep, growl-accented voice from the darkness.

Instantly Urla and the four worgs were up and ready for action. How had they been caught unawares? Urla brandished her long knife, which she'd fastened to the end of a short staff to make a spear, pointing it toward the pair of gleaming red eyes she saw in the darkness.

"Show yourself!" she demanded, feeling the presence of her dark lupine comrades flanking her, ready to back her up if they could, or to flee if the enemy proved too much.

"Peace, warchief," said the voice again, and this time its owner stepped out into the light of the fire, letting Urla see for herself who it was that had spoken. "I am not here to harm. I am here to promote."

The figure standing before Urla was tall, taller even than the fire-furred wolfen that had bested her yesterday, and even more broad-shouldered and powerful of build. Whoever he was, he was a muscular powerhouse, and he carried himself with the casual stride and stance of a seasoned warrior, telling Urla right away that he was agile as well as strong, and more than a match for all five of the warband survivors huddled around their campfire. Clad from head to toe in dark armor, adamantine if Urla had to guess, accented with dark red highlights, his helmet a stylized representation of a might dragon, the huge sword he wore on his back shining with an angry red light, Urla knew right away that she lived or died at that moment by the whim of this being, whoever he was. Even knowing this, however, she held her stance, spear at the ready, not willing to give in to her fear for a moment. If she died, she died, but she'd make her killer work for it, and Lugscar, god of slaughter and savagery and of the orcs who emulated him, curse his eyes!

"Promote?" Urla said with a sneer, moving to keep the fire between her and the armored intruder, relying on the reach of her spear to give her at least half a chance at keeping him at bay. "What're you talking about, mystery man?"

"You never knew for whom your brother worked, did you, warchief Urla?" asked the figure, folding his arms and standing, unmoving, his red eyes glowing within the sockets of his dragonhead helmet.

"He worked for that blue-skinned freak, Ralist," answered Urla, her face an impenetrable mask of fierce warrior's determination, not willing to show this intruder a moment's weakness if she could help it.

"And Ralist worked for me," the armored figure finished. "I am Malik Malleus, called the Dark Hammer by some. I am the Overlord."

Looking into those gleaming red eyes, and listening to that powerful voice, which she had felt from the start carried a tone to it that had made her want to obey instinctively, a part of why she had been so on-edge, Urla knew that the figure, Malik Malleus, was telling the truth. He was the Overlord!

The Overlord was a position held by the ruler of Darkland, one of the three realms that divided the continent of the Isle of the Mighty to the south and west of Autumn Land, where Urla presently was. Jotunheim, the land of the giants, and Brightland, realm of good, were the other two realms. Though the Isle of the Mighty was the smallest of all the continents, hardly more than a glorified island, as its name suggested, a vast amount of ancient power was found there. It was rumored that there was enough power on the Isle of the Mighty to rule the world of Therafim, or to destroy it, whichever the one who conquered the whole of that continent might desire. With the giants as a neutral third party in the sliver of territory between Brightland and Darkland, the forces of good and the forces of evil, respectively, regularly were drawn to their appropriate sides in this conflict, ready to do battle in an endless cycle. While the High King of Brightland was known for living an exceptionally long time, a paragon of good and righteous rule, the Overlord was a position that changed hands with sometimes startling frequency, for it was a position that granted the holder of the title immense power, but also drew immense attention from all sides, both from heroes seeking to cleanse the world of such an obvious source of evil, and from other evildoers seeking to take the title of Overlord for themselves. Only the most cunning or the most powerful or the most foolish of beings would dare to make any moves against the Overlord, however, for whoever had the strength to obtain and hold the position for any length of time had the power to command the forces of darkness anywhere on Therafim, making the Overlord the lynchpin for any number of plots and schemes and terrible acts that took place the world over.

One final point acted to protect the Overlord from usurpation, and ensured that all creatures that felt the call of Darkness would serve whoever might fill the position: the Overlord was chosen by the power of Evil itself, and this was something that no one could take upon themselves. Certainly, someone who proved capable enough to overthrow the present Overlord usually received the mandate of Darkness to take the position, but this was by no means guaranteed, and so it was generally far safer to cling to the shadow of the Overlord, and gain power in that shadow.

Malik Malleus was a contender for having held the position of Overlord the longest. Even Urla, having lived most of her life in the shadow of her brother, the warchief, knew about him, and knew him to be a truly deadly character, at least by reputation. Now that she'd met him in person, and could feel the aura of subtle menace and command that surrounded him, infusing his very being, the orcish woman warrior had to admit, the Overlord lived up to all the rumors.

"You keep calling me warchief," said Urla, frowning as she realized what she'd heard before, slowly lifting her spear to an upright position, though she didn't relax completely yet. "That's not possible: only males can be the warchief."

"Only among orcs," replied Malik calmly. "Ralist was to be my liaison with the orc tribes of Godscar, the Granite Mountains, and the lands surrounding the Great Green, while warchief Gorewolf, your brother, was supposed to be the one to lead them. Now the core of my orcish army is shattered, and the ones who might have made rebuilding possible are both dead." He shook his armored head firmly. "No, I have given up on the orcs. But there are others that might serve just as well, or perhaps better. There are the goblinoids of the north, the giants of Godscar, as well as that blighted land's outcast orc tribes, and the gnolls of the Great Green, to name a few. None of them would deny a warrior a chance to rule them, not even a woman warrior, so long as she were strong, had courage and skill to match, and the force of the Overlord's reputation were there to give her the right to challenge for command." The armored figure of Malik Malleus extended a gauntleted hand. "You are more than worthy of the honor and title of warchief, Urla Gorewolf. Will you accept my offer? Will you fight and win for me?"

Hearing this invitation, and seeing the extended hand, Urla turned her head slightly, looking at the Overlord askance. She drew closer to him, then curled her lip slightly in suspicion.

"What am I going to fight for, Overlord?" she asked. "It might not've mattered much to my brother, but I'm not the sort to fight for its own sake. I want reasons, so let's hear 'em."

"The first reason," Malik said, his hand wavering not a hair's breadth as it remained extended in offering, "is the immensity of reward that will come to you. Riches, slaves, and respect will all be yours for so long as you can remain strong and cunning. You might even have males if you so wish, since you'll be beyond the scorn of orcish tradition. The hyenafolk, in fact, will actually think more highly of you the more males you can bed, much like you orcs think of a male who can bed many females."

"I'm still listening," said Urla, edging a little closer.

"The second reason is that you will have the chance for glory and fame," Malik continued. "These are things that you desire, Urla Gorewolf; I have seen it in your actions, in your every effort. You are ambitious, and want your worth to be recognized. Among your own kind, you have been stifled. Now I offer you a chance to have everything you have ever truly wanted, even the position of warchief."

"Yeah, a chance," said Urla with a derisive snort, though she took another step toward Malik, now within arm's reach. "That's all you've got to offer, anyway. I'm gonna hafta do most of the work, in the end."

"I will help you, Urla," answered Malik, his voice taking a more intimate tone, and Urla felt a strange thrill at being addressed so by this dark-armored figure, the powerful and legendary Overlord. "You will do the final work, certainly, but you will not be thrown into it unprepared by any means. You will have means given to you, and I will personally train you, and equip you, and empower you for the tasks that you must perform." And now it was the Overlord who took a step word Urla, his eyes burning into hers, captivating her, making her breath catch in her chest, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed as she felt herself overwhelmed by his sheer force of personality. "I want your service, Urla," he said softly, the words almost a whisper in Urla's ear, his hot, pleasant-smelling breath teasing against her smooth green skin. "I want you. Will you serve me?"

Swallowing to wet her suddenly dry throat, Urla looked at the worgs cowering at the feet of the Overlord, only barely keeping themselves from fawning on him because of their respect for her and, more importantly, their fear of him. There was no point in resisting, was there? She knew in her heart that all that he'd promised her was the truth, and that, as long as she delivered on her part, he would give her everything she'd ever wanted, and more. How could she resist? Tentatively, she reached out her hand, and gasped as he took her hand in his own, his touch warm and strangely compelling even through his armor. Urla shivered as Malik drew her closer to his body, even though she felt an unnatural heat radiating from the core of his being, bathing her skin in a sheen of sweat.

"I'll serve you," she said in a choked whisper. "I'll do anything you want."

"I know you will."

Bonus Content

Catching up with some of the magic items that have been mentioned in earlier chapters, here are the rules for the minor artifact, the phallus of Kon. The phallus of Kon uses a great many erotic spell effects, descriptions of which can be found here: http://www.sofurry.com/view/371049

Phallus of Kon

Aura: Major Enchantment and Transmutation. Caster Level 20

Each phallus of Kon was quenched in the genital slit of Flayfire, one of the oldest and most powerful (and most perverted) non-deity red dragons on Therafim, by Kon, the most skilled lover and crafter of sex toys of his age. Though Kon died over two centuries ago, his works live on. So does Flayfire and her many descendants, for the great wyrm is well known for her many and varied love affairs, a practice that continues unabated to this day. Kon was similarly prolific, though in his creations rather than his offspring (he remained childless to his death, thanks to his use of magic to ensure he would not be burdened with children to distract him), and he crafted many hundreds of these phalli during his long relationship with Flayfire, so that they are likely to turn up almost anywhere. Only Flayfire herself is left alive to know the secrets of their creating, though she may be persuaded to share the knowledge with someone who pleases her sufficiently, as well as showing intelligence and skill, and a more-than-generous amount of discretion, so that the secret does not become too widespread.

Normally, the phalli of Kon function as the most perfect faux-penises that could be desired. These golden dildos are able to change their shape to the whims or even the unknown needs of their users, so that they are always able to provide maximum pleasure. They have a magical vibration ability, and are able to merge with the clitoris of a female user or mold over the penis of a male user, becoming an extension of the user's own body in every way, with no loss of the flexibility or mutability of the phallus' power. These sex toys are able to be used by any intelligent creature, no matter their size or unusual biology, without any danger of damaging the phallus or the user. For the most part, a phallus of Kon's ability to mold itself into new shapes is only limited by the imagination of its users, and by its essential purpose as a sex toy. It cannot be used for any other function outside of sex, and can never be used to deal actual damage.

Phalli of Kon have several additional features that are used automatically. First, phalli of Kon provide their owners with a +10 artifact bonus to all skill checks related to sexual performance, whether a phallus is actually being used at the time or not. Second, they impart a continuous Accommodation effect on anyone in contact with a phallus (Fortitude save DC 22 negates). Third, they instantly cause a Mass Arousal effect to all who come within a 30' radius of the phallus (Will save DC 22 negates, made immediately after entering the radius, and the save is repeated once an hour whether it succeeds or not). This state continues for as long as the subject is within range of a phallus of Kon, and for six hours afterward. Fourth and finally, those within the reach of the 30' Arousal effect are also susceptible to a Promiscuity spell effect (Will save DC 22 to resist, repeated once per hour that the target is within range until the target fails the save) that continues for as long as the subject is within the 30' range of a phallus, and for a full eight hours afterward.

Besides these automatic abilities, a phallus of Kon also has several other abilities, each of which can be used at will by the present owner. The first of these abilities is that the phallus can cause a Constant Orgasm effect in anyone it is used upon (Fortitude save DC 22 to resist), which renders the target almost completely helpless, requiring a DC 22 Will save to perform any actions at all that are not related to continuing the pleasure. Next, the phallus can be used to Delay Orgasm for as long as the owner desires (Will save DC 21 to resist) as long as it is in contact with the one this power is used upon. Thirdly, the phallus can be used to Intensify Sensations (will DC 22 to resist) on those it is directly used upon, as the spell. Constant Orgasm and Delay Orgasm cannot be used at the same time, but any other combination of powers can be used.

If a phallus of Kon is used by a spellcaster for at least an hour before that spellcaster rests for the night (this cannot take place during a spellcaster's needed rest or memorization time), the following day it allows the spellcaster to cast any three spells of the caster's choice as though they were under the influence of the Maximize Spell feat, except that these spells do not take up higher-level spell slots, just as though the owner were making use of a metamagic rod. This choice is made right before casting a spell, as a free action.

Should anyone have their virginity taken by a phallus of Kon (this deflowering is rather broad in interpretation, and includes all sexual acts performed for the first time, so long as it involves using a phallus of Kon), all four of the automatic powers listed above are transferred to that person. The +10 artifact bonus to erotic skills stacks with all other bonuses except those from other artifacts. The Arousal and Promiscuity effects function normally on everyone around the person deflowered by the phallus, but only affect the person directly if that person engages in sexual activity, even minor sexual activity like flirting or voyeurism, or unwilling sexual activity. If the person is a spellcaster, then any sexual activity lasting at least an hour anytime during the day or night before the person rests (this time cannot be made a part of the normal rest and memorization needed for spellcasting) will allow that person to use the Maximize Spell ability of the phallus three times per day, as above. However, casting these maximized spells causes intense bursts of pleasure in the caster, requiring a DC 20 Will save afterward or else the caster loses his or her next turn. Any person who has been deflowered by a phallus of Kon has a constant -10 to all checks made to resist erotic spells or attempts at seduction, including mind-control magic intended for seduction purposes.

Destruction: Any given phallus of Kon can only be used to deflower a single virgin. After it has been used to do this, while it remains an excellent magical sex toy, as described above, it loses all of its automatic and activated abilities, and its aura becomes Minor Transmutation. A phallus of Kon can then be destroyed, if desired, like any other magical item, with sufficient damage dealt, though it is still resistant to the physical effects associated with the biology of its users that might cause it damage.

Someone who has been deflowered by a phallus of Kon, and has had its powers bestowed by this deflowering, keeps those powers for life, though they do not transfer to the person's offspring. However, any of the descendants of Flayfire, the dragoness in whose vagina each phallus of Kon was quenched, can choose, at will, to negate any spells cast using the Maximize Spell ability of a phallus of Kon without needing to make any contested rolls. Additionally, such descendants of Flayfire can attempt to negate any spell cast by someone who was deflowered by a phallus of Kon, regardless of whether they are maximized or not. This negation attempt is a standard action by the descendant of Flayfire, and is rolled out like a counterspell action between the descendant and the one deflowered by the phallus, with the descendant's hit dice being used as caster level. Flayfire herself can also use this spell negation ability, except that she always wins these opposed caster checks, without needing to make any roll. She can also choose to turn any maximized spells cast at her using the power of a phallus of Kon back upon the caster, at her discretion.