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Persistent Treasures Written by Leo_Todrius Commissioned by Starwing

The sound of summer crickets chirped outside the "Trodden Goose" tavern with no sign of stopping. What few bugs had made it in before the windows had been closed up clung to the glow of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, hitting the glass in their nihilistic desire to reach the source of all illumination. For those gathered in the tavern itself, they were reflecting on their close calls on their most recent heist.

"Another round." came the deep and gruff voice of the group's barbarian. Stull was but twenty five years old, but already four hundred pounds of pure muscle and grit. His greasy brown hair was wild, his leather body armor was from beasts he had felled himself, and his thirst was unquenchable.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" came a slightly more lyrical voice. Samal was the group's bard, but their adventures had led the 27 year old to drink a bit too much already. His head throbbed with the remnants of a hangover.

"My head hurts." Stull countered, reaching up to rub his head.

"It wouldn't hurt if you'd just let me treat it." The voice was young and almost impossibly sweet, coming from a shaggy headed blond sorcerer whose bangs blocked his eyes. The barbarian growled.

"No magic, I don't need shortcuts." Stull replied.

"Juna was just trying to help." Samal replied, closing his eyes to try and stop the room from spinning.

"Well if magic isn't your thing, then perhaps the best nature has to offer? No tricks, nothing out of sorts... though the power of nature itself can be quite powerful." The group's cleric countered. Even though he was the second tallest and had broad shoulders, he carried the light and airy ways of his religion. Naturally Stull disliked him as a result.

"Ease off. We will have plenty of time to recover thanks to our most recent find." The slinky, sly voice of their party's last member came from the shadows. Their oldest member at thirty one was the hardest to pin down. Vox was a rogue, trained in stealth and martial arts. His hair was braided and tied back into a ponytail hidden in his hood. He sat back down at the table, unloading one of the bags of treasure they had purloined from the old ruins.

Several ancient metal coins spilled out as well as pieces of ceramic, but the one thing that Vox took the most care with was a highly detailed piece of ornate silver metal housing a foggy glass core. The adventurers looked at it with much interest. They had pulled out trunks of loot from the ruins, but the fact that Vox had taken this particular piece to their contact had peeked their interest.

"What is it?" Stull asked.

"Brandis thinks it might have been a sorcerer's crux, a focal point." Vox replied. A lithe, thin hand shot out to grab it at once.

"But magic was so rare and powerful when that site was in use." Juna said, one icy blue eye peeking out from the curtain of blond hair.

"Magic, back then, was at the cost of life itself... Be careful young sorcerer, this ward could hold dark portents." Canna said, resting his hand on the item.

"Who cares what it does, we should sell it. We went to a lot of trouble on that quest." Samal replied, reaching to take the item from the others. Stull growled at that.

"You no take from me!" Stull muttered, still nursing his own headache. He reached out, grabbing hold with two fat fingers, pulling on the object. Vox growled.

"Seriously, you guys are idiots... That thing is over a thousand-" Vox was unable to finish his sentence before there was a flash of deep dark purple that absorbed the light around it, a swirl of energy snapping around the table before turning to dust, falling, and fading away. The group was left holding but fragments of the tiny silver vessel.

For a moment they all looked stunned at what they had just done, but the pieces were dropped back into the pile as the band leaned back in disgust - all save for Juna. The explosion had sent chills through his body. The young sorcerer had never felt such potent power before. It was unrefined, ancient, wild and passionate. The hair on his arms had stood up on end, his nipples had perked in arousal, and soon so too did his manhood. It was a surprising reaction, but the blood was rushing to his groin and his tunic was tenting beneath the table. Juna slowly brought the fragment of silver metal back and put it in his pocket, reaching for his mead.

The mug touched his lips and the amber liquid spilled in over his tongue. Perhaps it was being startled by such an event, but the mead tasted better than ever, like the flavor was more potent and rich. He savored it as he drank it back, letting it spill into his stomach. Canna had been left with a strange feeling as well, though he had dropped the piece. As a cleric, he had been raised to have the utmost respect for nature. The magical practitioners of the forgotten age had taken advantage of it, perverted it, and done such horrible things to the world... But holding that ward, feeling that flash of power had awoken something strange inside of him. For a split second it was as if he had felt a concentrated connection to Laques, the horse god of the plains. For Canna it was a most precious experience, but a perplexing one. How had the ancient beings managed to harness such a power from his own patron god?

"Well, perhaps we should decide what to do with the treasures we have remaining... Perhaps exercise a bit more care so we have enough to sell." Vox muttered, sitting down more fully at the table. Inside his boots, his toes drummed along in a line with surprising accuracy, allowing him to express his anxious energies.

"I'm sure we'll be more careful with the rest..." Samal replied, "But there's no reason not to divide it evenly among our party." The bard decreed. The barbarian, however, looked over at Samal with a bit of disdain. The bard always seemed small to Stull, but today in particular... But then again, so did everyone. Stull closed his eyes, his head throbbing. He breathed in and out at an accelerated rate. The blood pumped through his body, reaching his extremities. The fingers clutching his stein of mead began to grow longer and thicker, fattening up. Even the fingerprints seemed to surge outward in every direction across the expanding digits.

"Some are small... Some not carry or sneak or open." Stull murmured, growling a bit under his breath. Samal, despite his diminutive size tried puffing up.

"Who got us this job? Who reigned everyone in? We all have our skills to play." Samal replied. Canna reached out, resting a hand on Samal's shoulder while looking at Stull.

"He's right. As Laques teaches, we must travel with the herd, together and united for survival. Just as the rider and horse do not separate, nor will the horses." Canna explained, though he was unaware that his hand was massaging Samal's shoulder, fingers probing the flesh. He felt more than ever a need to touch someone, to have that physical contact. The cleric was sweating a bit, breathing hard, unaware that his ears were starting to push into points. Canna's tailbone was aching hard and he had to shift on his chair, trying to relieve the pressure as best he could.

"Think about it this way, Stull, if you cut anyone out of this, how likely is the group to stick together next time? You're ensuring loyalty in the future by... being loyal now." Samal said, getting a bit distracted. It certainly felt as if something was off. Stull seemed more intimidating than usual, Canna was more handsy, and Juna was out of it. Samal looked at Vox for only a moment before looking back at the others.

While the conversation was a matter of great importance, Juna had gotten quite distracted. His eyes peered out from his blond veil, looking at Canna. Normally he and the cleric represented opposite ends of the spectrum. They were tapped into abilities and powers the others could only dream of, but the way that Canna was practically mauling Samal's shoulder seemed quite nice. He started to imagine the times that Canna had offered massages to those with tight muscles, imagining that things had gone further.

The sorcerer looped his finger around through the air, whispering a slight incantation under his breath. There was a soft flash of light in his tunic before a ring of magic swept up the length of his shaft and then back down. Juna murmured, sliding his finger back and forth, giving the ghostly impression that an entire hand was massaging his length. The young sorcerer blushed, masturbating at the table surrounded by his friends, feeling his manhood harden and stiffen, elongating and tenting his pants all the more. It was clear his arousal could not be hidden by anything other than the table itself. Indulging in such pleasures, Juna's head was throbbing, but something else was afoot as well. The sleek blond hair hanging down over his head no longer obscured the slightest pointed tips of his ears as they stretched out into more elfin quality.

Canna was getting distracted from the situation at hand as well, his eyes slipping shut. Somehow the world of nature, even the powers of Laques, felt closer to him than ever before. Canna sat at the table, nearly trembling. His already broad shoulders began to pop and distort, his back thickening and his spine lengthening. The fingernails on his hands, normally well cared for, were thickening and darkening from sandy tan to yellow to black, hardening and becoming glossy. His boots were becoming uncomfortable as well. His heels went numb, his toes ached and soon the waistband of his tunic was prying apart, making room for a wispy rope of flesh to emerge, anchored just above his spine. For a split second it looked almost like a rat tail, but hundreds of long dark hairs exploded from its surface as it grew in more and more.

"Stull do more, Stoll get more!" The barbarian growled before slamming his fist down onto the table, surprising even himself as he crushed his stein. Stull looked down at his hand, wondering when it had dwarfed the stein itself. He flexed his fingers and then looked at his arm. It too was larger. It seemed like the world around him, and his clothes were shrinking. It took far too many moments for him to put together the idea that he might in fact be growing.

Vox stood up from the table without warning, moving away. He leaned against a support column, bowing his head in the hood. A wave of discomfort had swept over him, although it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling. It was strange, unwelcome, unexpected. It had started with his toes, but he felt an insatiable energy ripping through him. As he exhaled slowly, his lips parted, revealing sharpening teeth. He'd been having difficulty keeping them in place before, but now they were far too big. His lips pushed out around them, his jaw expanding. His upper lip got puffy and round and even his nose started to widen, exposing more of his nostrils.

"See, you upset Vox now too." Samal snorted.

"It's not the divvy, it's seeing you two get on." Vox shot back from his puffy face as his ears started to round and his hair thickened into rough dreads beneath his hood, "You should get a room." Vox added. At that Juna cooed, deciding magic wasn't enough. The young sorcerer slipped a hand into his robes, finding his rock hard cock... though it didn't feel quite as he remembered it. His balls were far hairier and the shaft was longer, fatter, meatier. It squished and slipped beneath his fingers most satisfyingly as he jerked off.

The headache that had started with but two of the adventurers had spread. For Stull, his entire body ached. For Juna his forehead was throbbing on either side. Canna's face was starting to fill with pain, and for Vox it was his feet. The rogue reached down to slowly unfasten his boots, removing strap after strap. As he pulled one off, he looked down at his inhuman feet. The toes were longer, more flexible. They wiggled independently of one another and a vast brown patch of hair had spread over the top. Vox shot a look both directions before he removed the other boot, finding much the same fate.

Of all the changes, it was Samal who started to pierce through the fog filling their brains. He kept questioning reality, gaining fragments of what he should have been cluing into. The first feeling he felt was a sudden dread, realizing that Stull's size was not right at all. He'd always been big, but the barbarian was towering over the table, likely at least ten feet tall. The beastly man's leathers had split at the seams, revealing expanding muscle and flesh beneath. His boots were in tatters, his shirt splayed open.

The bard cast his glance to Juna left, gasping softly. The innocent, young sorcerer was looking more devious than ever. The ears sticking out of his hair were exotic, but with each passing second a thick band of golden hair was emerging from the young lad's jawbone, coming together along his chin where the tufts sprouted longer, dropping down inch by inch into a fine goatee well beyond his years.

Samal's stomach quivered as he turned to look at Canna. The cleric's face was distorted, his mouth pushing forward, his nose extending, his ears rising to the top of his head. His black hair was ruffled, becoming wispier and his hands were far from human. With one last concerned glance he spotted Vox in the corner. At first the rogue seemed normal, but the flick of a long lithe tail sticking out of Vox's pant legs revealed that he too had been compromised.

Wrestling with the sudden fracture of reality, Samal tried to come to grips with what was going on. I was clear his friends had not always been like that, that his findings were some glimpse of something else. With the ache of his hangover it was hard to track back, but then it seemed almost all too real. The group had fractured the trinket, the sorcerer's focus. The power had been all over them, and even if the glowing particles had faded, they had rained down over their food and drink.

The pieces were fitting together, but Samal's findings were soon fading into jealousy. The group was changing one by one, encountering this strange fate together... everyone but him. Had Stull been right? Had he been too much of a burden in the group"? Was he a waste? It seemed odd to feel left out of losing one's humanity, but there his friends were, shifting and changing without even realizing it.

The burning heat of jealousy started to temper after a few moments, though Samal still studied his group. At first the changes seemed random, but then it started to make sense. Canna had forever been begotten with his own religion, wanting to be one with Laques. A glimpse at his animalistic hands showed the tough nails of a horse like being. Stull, however, had always been a man of simple pleasures. He wanted to be the biggest, the strongest, and now that was coming true.

Vox was easier to read than normal. The tail was that of a monkey from the ultrian mountains. They were formidable animals that could get to any height in seconds. Their skills would be indisputable. That brought Samal's attention back to the young sorcerer. His impenetrable curtain of hair had at last been breached by two pristine white ivory horns, curving upward ever so softly. To Juna the curse had brought a maturity, an accessibility, the libido and strength of a satyr.

Once more Samal felt it was almost too much. The group had been granted such extreme gifts and he nothing, but at the same time they were all so inside themselves they couldn't perceive what was happening. The amulet had worked on all of them, dispelling its energies, making their wishes come true. Somewhere inside Samal he realized that it would be wiser to play the long game, for both his group and for him.

"You know what Stull... You're right. You did do a lot more work. You can have a third of my share on top of your own." Samal said. The growing behemoth grunted in surprise, his eyes turning from brown to gold.

"Truly?" Stull asked. Samal reached out, resting his miniscule human hand on Stull's enormous one.

"Truly. And Canna, you are right as well. Being together, operating as a team... That's the true lasting treasure of our group. I'm sure getting along is in our nature." Samal said. The changing cleric blushed a bit, shivering as his face popped and snapped, extending further out into a muzzle. The black ears pricked up on the top of his head as his arm hair began to soften and multiply into a fur coat.

"Samal, I'm very impressed at your maturity." Canna murmured.

"Well, our group is an amazing band. Even Juna is becoming so mature and capable. I can't wait to see what awaits him." Samal said softly. Juna gave a deft nod, only half paying attention. Samal slowly reached out across underneath the table, wrapping his own hand around Juna's shaft. Juna gasped sharply at that, his shoes falling off of cloven feet, his toes having already fused into hooves. A tiny blond goat tail stuck out of his white robes, waggling away at the attention.

"Stull get us something stronger, something better for group." The barbarian murmured before he stood up, nearly flipping the table. With just a few steps toward the bar, Stull's clothing ripped apar and fell ins craps to the floor, revealing twelve feet of muscled behemoth hunched down under the ceiling rafters. The barbarians ass was as wide as a wagon and the orc tattoo he had there had spread to an even bigger size.

Samal felt so conflicted. None of the others had yet noticed, none had broken through the strange glamor of their changes, but he knew. He was jealous, excited, aroused and dismayed. He wanted to be part of it, he wanted it to stop. Jacking off Juna wasn't enough. He turned and kissed Canna suddenly, invading his changing mouth with a meaty tongue. The changes rippling through Canna only seemed to intensify as rough black stubble sprouted across the Cleric's cheeks, crossing over the bridge of his nose and down his jaw. Canna's eyes were surrounded, his hair growing bristly and mane like. Even his hands were getting covered in the black fuzz. The cleric's green robes did nothing to hide the changes, his horse tail sweeping the floor behind him. The cleric's boots warbled and groaned, the leather stretched apart as another set of hooved feet emerged from the covering.

Fearing no reprisal from the others that seemed so blind, Samal plunged his remaining hand down into Canna's robes, finding his manhood, stroking it without restraint. Canna let out a whinny, throwing his horse head back. The meat in Samal's hands responded at once, heating up to fiery heights as it started to bloat and stretch. Samal held on, hacking off both magical members of his party. Somewhere deep down he wondered if it was a strategy, hoping their energies would leak onto him, but something more perverse worked inside his brain. He wanted them to be together, to be united in ways no religion allowed. He wanted them to be truly one and so he took in great satisfaction as Juna started to moan and thrash, leaking out the last of his slick, clean human cum before a far more sinister thick, syrupy semen leaked from his satyr cock all over the bard's hand.

As amazing as Juna's new beastly cock was, Canna seemed to be impressing far more. His shaft stretched to six inches, then eight, then eleven and more in Samal's hand. It pushed out of the flap of cloth, unbridled and unrestrained. The mushroom shaped head began to flatten and widen, blunting the tip. Around the center of the cleric's cock was a rough, ridge of flesh creating a medial ring. The horse cock was soon slapping the sticky underside of the table but Samal didn't stop.

Canna's moans grew louder and louder before he too came, erupting a geyser of the last of his human seed and the start of his new animal spooge. The two magic users went limp in their chairs, panting hard from sexual exertion. Samal slowly withdrew his hands, looking down at them both. On one side was a satyr, the other a horse man. He brought the hands to his lips and licked both simultaneously.

A curiously strong musky flavor erupted across his tongue, tasting of salt and spice and maple. Samal licked his hands clean before he blushed brightly, his eyes shitting. He hadn't given in to his lusts in some time, years to be precise. When he had been Juna's age he had survived by offering such tricks to weary travelers, but he'd lived a cleaner life since then... but it seemed his past was catching up with him and his hungers were only growing. The boys, the magic users, would not be enough.

Samal slowly rose to his feet, leaving the table behind. He moved over to the support column where Vox was standing, reaching to massage both of his shoulders. Vox glowered beneath his hood.

"Do not touch me." The rogue warned.

"Come on Vox, we all need to unwind, to recharge." Samal replied, continuing to massage. Vox bore his fangs.

"I said don't touch me!" Vox shouted. His movements were lightning fast. Samal was thrown into the wall, pinned there by an ambidextrous monkey foot. A long whip liek tail flicked around, counterbalancing Vox's moves as the hood fell from his head, revealing a dreadlocked monkey man. His cheeks had exploded into a thick fuzzy caramel brown mane of fur, his eyes a rich, dark solid black.

"That's it... You can open up with me Vox, you can be who you were meant to be. Give in to that heat. You can trust me." Samal whispered. Vox looked at the bard for a long moment, his foot-thumb starting to affectionately stroke Samal's neck before the rogue gave a grunt, let go of the bard and moved to sit down at the table, his arms crossed. Samal considered his options, but Vox needed time to soften. There was someone else, however, that needed some attention - the last person in their group Samal ever thought he'd give the time of day too.

"Sorry about earlier Stull." Samal said, moving up to the bar. The bard realized just how potent the magic screen must have been. Stull had apparently broken the stoools at the bar and sat on the floor instead, but no one was acting as if any damage had been done. The bartender was filling a tankard with stout ale, another laying on its size empty like a washed up barrel from a sunken ship. Stull burped, looking over at the bard.

"It okay. Stull... maybe greedy." Stull admitted. Samal approached more, his heart throbbing. It felt too good to cast aside the innocent guise he had adopted, to embrace the heat that he had trapped for so long. He reached over, clapping Stull on the chest.

"There, there big guy, I can't blame you. We all want what's most fair because we don't always get what we deserve. But what if a few get what they want?" Samal asked, his hand lowering to Stull's massive fist sized nipple. Samal started to roll his palm around over it, feeling the nubby flesh and the hint of an opening.

"What Sam want? Too many words, head hurt." Stull murmured, having a harder time than usual with language.

"I was thinking you, me, maybe we could go somewhere-" Samal's voice was suddenly muffled as a fuzzy tail filled it. He stumbled toward the edge of the tavern, arms wrapping around him.

"What did you mean by what you said? That I could open up to you?" Vox whispered in Samal's human ear, panting hard, letting out a soft squeaky moan. Samal grabbed the rogue's hand and suddenly slid it lower onto his erect groin.

"I meant that you can do whatever you want with me, and that I am yours. My loyalty is to this group." Samal whispered. Vox panted hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Something's wrong, something about this, it's not us..." Vox said, turning his head away, "I've been looking for somewhere to sheathe my sword for years, a princess or a warrior maiden. I never thought it would be with..."

"Someone like us?" Samal asked, "You can have your happy ever after, this is just nature like Canna is always saying. We're family of a sort, what happens here stays here." Samal said. Vox continued to pant, his monkey dander potent. He growled softly before he pushed Samal into the wall just out of sight of the rest of the tavern, tearing his pants down. As fast as an assassin brandishing a blade, Vox's long monkey cock was whipped out and plunged into Samal.

Samal groaned out in surprise, his face squished against the wall. The bard wondered in the back of his mind if the rogue had a hard time finding a girl because he was too rough, but maybe all that gruff exterior was just being too pent up. Vox used his new flexibility to his advantage, standing on one leg, the other foot paw moving to wrap around Samal's cock, working it hard and fast. The rogue's hands moved to pinch and twist Samal's nipples, torturing them just a bit. Samal whimpered hard and fast, but he positively gasped as he felt something hot and wet on the tip of his cock.

As Samal opened his eyes and looked down, he realized that Juna was starting to suck him off even as he got monkey paw bashing against his fluffy blond goatee. It was a wonder the kid could see at all under his mop top of blond hair and his new shag of blond beard. Samal shivered suddenly as he felt the sharp points of satyr horns scrape against his stomach.

With an odd blast of sweet air, Samal became aware of something else as well. Tannis blossoms were sprouting out from between every plank of wood ont he wall and grasses were coming up through the tavern floor. Every step Canna took toward the group resulted in more of his natural magic leaking out. The cleric had shed his robes, walking as a naked and proud horse man, his foot and a half long meat throbbing in the air. As he approached the bard, he took one hand under his meat and hefted it up, bringing the musky tool right into range. Samal was starting to feel that he was too in over his head, that things were beyond reason, but the scent of that horse cock was too much.

The bard obediently opened his mouth and got it plugged full of mottled brown, pink and black horse meat. Canna started working it back and forth, smearing the remnants of his last loan all over the human's teeth and tongue, moaning deeply in desire. Vox shivered a bit, his tail wrapping around Canna's waist. He'd never felt so close to the group before, or so accepted. Samal had a hard time imagining a better outcome, though as the floor started to tremble beneath them, he realized he had forgotten one last element.

"Stull no left out, Stull play too!" The deep, gravely voice of the giant echoed in their ears. At a full fifteen feet tall, Stull had a hard time even moving in the tavern, but somehow the giant was able to whip out an immensely long, impressively thick cock covered with ample veiny foreskin and start beating it. The heady, musky, almost acrid aroma of his cock wafted over them like a pheromonal cloud, encouraging their arousals to new heights.

The group had raided caves, castles, ruins and realms beyond the scope of mortal man... but this was the first time they had raided each other. Canna threw back his head and let out a whinny of pleasure before he filled Samal's mouth with horse cum. Seeing his friend orgasm, Stull felt an urge not to be outdone. He jacked off his giant cock all the harder and faster, grunting with increasing urgency before he let out a howl.

Thick, wriggling dollops of giant cum rained down over the group, soaking their hair, their clothes, and saturating their bodies. Juna practically vibrated on Samal's cock as the satyr came, the second load spilling down the bard's leg. Somewhere deep inside of Samal there was a quiver of new hope. There had always been the edge of contention in the group; friction, contention, a hint of jealousy. They had been brought together by circumstance as rapscallions, bandits, outlaws and adventurers. They had done bold deeds, but now they were united by something more.

The warm semen covering Samal's body was an interesting sensation, but beneath it came a soft tingling and a building pressure. Like pants fertilized with the finest mulch, tiny sprouts of brown hair emerged from Samal's cheeks. The hair spread across his upper lip and chin, growing out to a short beard in moments. The hangover that had been plaguing him all day focused on two specific points, building closer and closer to the surface until that pain too died away. Two tiny drops of blood emerged form his forehead as gray horns began pushing out slowly, curling up past his temples, around his ear and back down into a slow spiral.

As the group basked in their afterglow, Vox soon came as well, filling Samal's backside. As the last of the group to reach that point, his attack was finally without the element of surprise. Brown fur blossomed across Samal's backside, his ass cheeks parting enough for his tailbone to stretch out and curve up into a tiny flag of fur. The brown swept down his legs, coating all flesh with its thick potency.

When Samal's feet started to change, he wobbled a bit but his party steadied him, keeping him aloft. Samal's toes grew together, the flesh spreading out into a wedge. His toenails blackened and became disproportionate, growing across the wedge of a foot as his heels shrank away to nothing. His knees shifted, his ankles tilted and in the end it was clear that Juna had a new playmate, a Satyr brother to adventure with.

With such a focused display, the magic shielding the other patrons from the changes was starting to wear thin. Overwhelmed by a strange need to vacate the premises, the others started to filter out into the night and find their way home. The bartender put a few stools up, blew out a few of the lanterns before he wandered out of his own establishment, having hallucinated that everything had been properly closed up. It was like a puppet on a string. In moments the tavern had been cleared and only the cum drenched party remained, save for one individual.

Sitting in the far corner of the room, unaffected by the magical haze that filled the establishment, was a solitary drow... or at least a being that looked somewhat similar. The creature's skin was the color of obsidian. His black hair was artfully and meticulously worked into thin dread locks that ran across the top of his head and down the back. The sides of his dark skull had been shaved short and tattooed, the aged ink still glinting with the faintest of metallic pigments in contrast to the opaque flesh around it, leading up to the uncharacteristic demonic black horns that pierced the flesh and curved up in front of his head.

The Drow lifted his cup, sipping a near poisonous amount of alcohol. There was a flash of movement around the base of his chair, betraying the presence of the immensely long, highly articulated spade tipped black tail curled into place. The drow's free hand, clawed and ringed, played with a pendant hanging from his neck. The metal detailing was ornate and it housed a foggy glass container half full of purple energy. Truly demonic eyes glanced down to the vessel. The being's irises were a rich, almost fiery ruby red, but his sclera was as dark as his skin - black as the darkest night.

The desires of the group had been so loud in their own heads the Drow could practically hear it like a chorus. Wishes, desires, needs - they had once been an ancient language all their own, and it was a language that the demonic drow could still hear even in this advanced world. Their desires had been easy, it had taken practically no effort at all... but it had been quite the show. The group had been granted persistent treasures related to their desires. The drow was certain they would have quite a bit of fun ahead of them.