Message-ID: <12693eli$9807022346@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: marawuti@ipinc.net Subject: Wulf: Nemesis 3/5 (m/f, m/f/f/f, f/f, cons. s&m) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <359bfe43.21777692@news.ipinc.net> Thae’Lynn The interior of Duchess N’Quy’s tent was lit with a violet light that deepened shadows and cast warm, dark rays into every corner. Tendrils of dreamsmoke drifted through the air, combining with fragrant incense and the smell of exotic oils. Presently the room was occupied by three individuals -- the daemon Mazzor, the pleasure slave Yawesha'ae and Thae’Lynn herself. The Duchess lounged on her massive round bed, clad only in a thin black robe, admiring the splendid ebon roundness of her slave’s buttocks as she lay, face down, beside her. Mazzor watched, a look of quizzical interest mixed with curiosity on his short-muzzled draconian face. For years now, Thae’Lynn had wondered exactly how her daemonic lover truly felt about the frenzied couplings of lesser beings like elves and humans, and now, as she watched his cock grow to gargantuan size and rocklike hardness, she still had no real answers. The daemon’s organ seemed to be under total voluntary control, and he seemed to be able to fuck and orgasm with unlimited capacity. Thae’Lynn herself had never actually worn him out, though not for lack of trying. Thae’Lynn reached for the graceful silver vessel beside the bed, the enchanted chalice she had helped plunder from the Elven Isles during the great invasion years ago. It was full to the brim with rare scented oil impregnated with narcotic herbs and dreamweed. It appealed to Thae’Lynn to use such a sacred vessel for an entirely profane purpose, and as she dripped a few droplets onto Yawesha'ae’s shapely buttocks, she felt a renewed thrill of the perverse, the forbidden. No matter how many holy places she defiled, how many relics she used for profane gratification, how ever much virginal purity she despoiled, she still felt the faint quickening of her pulse and the touch of moisture between her legs whenever she did it. "Up," she said, quietly. "Give your master a good view." Obediently, Yawesha'ae rose up to her knees, her black buttocks gleaming with a few precious drops of scented oil. She had once been Thae’Lynn’s best friend, now that her house had sworn fealty to N’Quy, she was the Duchess’ most favored plaything. She bore various rings and piercings like Thae’Lynn, but nowhere near as many. Once possessed of long, lustrous silver hair, she was now totally shaved, and the line of her naked head, along the shallow arch of her back the twin globes of her buttocks and columnar thighs was smooth and picturesque as if drawn by an artist with a single brush stroke. Now Thae’Lynn tipped the goblet further, dripping more oil onto the other woman’s ass, sending a gleaming, golden trail between them. Yawesha'ae moaned at this, her breath quickening slightly. She knows what’s coming, Thae’Lynn thought. The little bitch. "Is he ready, mistress?" Yawesha’ae asked, voice high and tight with anticipation. "Is he ready to fuck me?" "Hm." Thae’Lynn looked over at Mazzor, his massive organ stiff and rigid as a stone monolith. He was always ready, she thought. But did he truly want to fuck, or did he simply enjoy watching the effect his cock had on his lovers? "He’s ready all right. We need to make you ready, however." "Please," Yawesha’ae said, breathlessly. "Get me ready for his cock." "As my little slave wishes," Thae’Lynn replied. Sometimes she wondered at Yawesh’s enthusiasm -- she usually preferred her victims to beg and plead for mercy before she fucked them. The slave’s blatant masochism and endless desire for her touch was sometimes disconcerting. Not this time, however, Thae’Lynn told herself, rising up on her knees and taking up position behind Yawesha’ae. She poured more oil between her slave’s buttocks, liberally this time, savoring the impassioned moans that she elicited. The oil left a warm, tingling sensation, and its narcotic components were absorbed through the skin. By the time Mazzor decided to finally use that great organ on Yawesh, she would be in a drug-fogged stupor, all senses enhanced, pleasure and pain doubled and redoubled. Slowly but deliberately, Thae’Lynn slid a hand up Yawesha’ae’s oil-slick thigh, and up between the taut roundness of her ass. Yes, she was well oiled up, Thae’Lynn’s fingers glided effortlessly along the soft black skin. "Good, little slave?" she whispered. "Is that where you want him?" "Yes, mistress. Yes, it’s good. Please make me ready for him." Thae’Lynn slid her hand faster, oiling every crevice, finally seeking out the tight portal of her slave’s asshole. A moment later, she slid a finger inside, and felt Yawesha’ae tense suddenly. "Ahhhhhh..." Yawesha’ae sighed. "That feels good, mistress." Deeper now... Thae’Lynn slipped her middle finger almost to the knuckle, feeling initial resistance that melted almost immediately. She slid her finger out, then in again. "Another, slave?" she asked, surprising herself with her own consideration -- usually she did whatever she liked without asking. "Yes, another. Faster, please." Thae’Lynn saw no reason not to oblige, adding a second finger and increasing the pace of her thrusts. A moment later she added a third, then a fourth, finger-fucking Yawesha’ae’s asshole with ever-increasing intensity. "Ohhhh, yes..." Yawesha’ae sighed. "Yessss... I can hardly wait until I feel his cock where your fingers are... Yessss..." "His cock is considerably more than my fingers, little slave," Thae’Lynn warned. "That’s what I want, mistress." "Very well, then." Thae’Lynn removed her fingers and beckoned toward the daemon. He stepped forward, rigid cock gleaming with a natural lubricant that his skin seemed to exude. The thing seemed far larger than Yawesha’ae could possibly take, but Thae’Lynn knew that such appearances were deceiving, and he could actually vary its size at will. "Your slave wishes to be pleasured?" Mazzor rumbled. He seemed to like to talk in this manner. "Well, slave?" Thae’Lynn asked, stroking Yawesha’ae’s smooth, gleaming head. "Yes, mistress," Yawesha’ae said, a hint of apprehension creeping into her voice. Thae’Lynn smiled to herself. Yawesh knew such things pleased her -- she was fully familiar with the daemon and his cock, having welcomed it in every orifice on numerous occasions. "Give it to her, Mazzor," Thae’Lynn ordered. "Put your cock inside her." Then she took up the chalice and poured the remainder across Yawesha’ae’s buttocks and back, rubbing it in, luxuriating in Yawesha’ae’s moans as the rush of narcotic sensation reached her. Instructions issued, she lay back on a large pillow and spread her legs apart, slipping a finger down to where more than a dozen silver rings glittered, while a lone ring decorated with a black gem pierced her clitoris. She was already wet, of course -- such antics never failed to excite her, and as she watched her vast, winged lover slip is oversized organ between Yawesha’ae’s buttocks, her arousal grew greater, more intense. When she touched her clit, she almost came instantly, but held off, waiting for the right moment. Yawesha’ae’s moans changed to a drawn out screech like an angry cat as Mazzor’s cock found her asshole and slipped in without ceremony, plunging deeply inside her. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh... Mistress, he’s so... so big..." Thae’Lynn reached up and pricked a nipple with a sharpened fingernail, feeling it swell and strain against her silver piercing. With her other hand she tugged on her clit, feeling the delicious sensation of pleasure mixed with pain that always sent her tumbling into ecstasy. Yawesh’s eyes were half-closed, only whites showing. "Can I play with myself, mistress?" she asked, voice straining at each thrust. "No," Thae’Lynn hissed. "No, you little cunt. You can’t play with yourself. You have to sit there and take it until I tell you. Understand?" "Oh, yes. Yes, mistress. Ahhhh..." Thae’Lynn so wanted to slap Yawesha’ae’s face, claw her buttocks as the great cock plowed into her, yank on her nipple rings and make her scream. But she waited; pleasure delayed, pleasure delayed. She toyed with her clit and squeezed her breast, flicking out her long black tongue to lap at her own nipple. Trigon’s modalities returned to her -- pleasure delayed was pleasure increased. Pain delayed was pain increased. Pleasure, pain... pain, pleasure. For many, like Yawesh, they were one and the same. Now, for instance. The great, thick cock thrusting up her tight asshole must be terribly painful, but to see her, one would think she was in the throes of the purest form of ecstasy. Thae’Lynn felt a contraction as her cunt clenched, driven to the brink of orgasm by the painful tugging at her clit and nipple, and by the beautiful image of demon and slave before her. "Play with yourself, bitch," she gasped, feeling the first waves. "Play with your clit while he fucks you..." Yawesh complied delightedly, slipping a hand behind her, stroking her wet lips and swollen clitoris as the daemon’s huge cock continued to pound in and out. "Ahhhhhh..." A groan escaped Thae’Lynn’s lips, and a moment later a second cry of release erupted from her slave. "Mistress, mistress... I’m coming... I’m com... com... Nnnnnnnnngggggghhh..." Yawesh collapsed forward, and Mazzor came down as well, still slamming his cock into her asshole. "Come, daemon," Thae’Lynn ordered, still stroking herself, feeling another wave rising. "Shoot your come all over us..." As always, Mazzor obliged, pulling his great cock out of Yawesha’ae, and letting it erupt in a sudden gush of hot white semen, almost instantly covering the twin mounds of the slave’s buttocks, and splashing across her back. Copious amounts landed on Thae’Lynn’s face and breasts, and she stroked it into her skin eagerly, feeling another orgasm wrench her. "His come... Oh, it burns... Oh, mistress..." Yawesh’s cries continued. "It feels so... so good... I’m coming again, mistress..." Another orgasmic wail followed. Thae’Lynn collapsed on the bed, the combination of narcotic oil, orgasm, and the hot sensation of Mazzor’s semen overwhelming her. "Mother of Pleasure," she sighed. "Never, never, never, has anyone had so much fun while on campaign." "Yes, Lady," replied Mazzor, withdrawing into the shadows, leaving the semen-covered slave in drugged slumber. "Slaying your enemies seems to increase the intensity of your pleasure." "So it does, lover," Thae’Lynn replied, drifting off to sleep herself. "So it does." Daedora The last survivors of House Yth’ela met in desperate council, deep within the fortress. Though the upper stories remained in friendly hands, the lower galleries had fallen. Only the destruction of the narrow stairways up had prevented N’Quy’s total triumph. Even this had only bought a little time, for now aerial troops rained stones and incendiaries on the upper stories, and sappers tunneled up from below. A few days, perhaps a week, of life remained to House Yth’ela. Daedora’s father, Nuthru, had followed Vomoss into death early on in the siege. Daedora’s heart still ached for him, but even more so in the knowledge that everyone else she held dear would also die soon. Her mother, Kytthu and Aunt Shadera were the ranking females now. Both had lost husbands, and both now looked ancient, the weight of centuries now at last pressing down upon them. Soon, all knew, they would depart for the Uttermost Lands, where they would dwell with the Mother of Pleasure for all time. Their departure would be voluntary -- no one in the room expected to be captured alive. "We will fight to the last," Shadera said, her voice a hollow echo of its former self. "When the enemy is at the doors of this chamber, I will cast the final enchantment, and painlessly send us all to the Uttermost." Kytthu raised a hand in protest. "Shadera, what of Daedora and the other young ones? Should they not at least be given a choice?" Shadera shook her head. "The N’Quy bitch will not give them any choice. They will be killed outright, or kept alive for torture. Imagine what she will have that damned daemon of hers, or that flesh eating unicorn, do to them? No. We must all go to the Uttermost Lands together. Our honor demands it." Daedora felt a sting of fear and a yawning pit of despair. She did not want to go to the Uttermost Lands. She did not want to leave this existence. There were so many things to do, things to see. And what of her friends, her lovers? Early in the siege, Daedora had fantasized about rescue, often by her demon lover Narisha, clad in stern steel armor, wielding a great black sword. Other times it was the wizardess Livia or the human, Wulf, sailing into battle, sweeping her away to safety. Even then, Daedora knew such imaginings were foolish, and they seemed even more so now. Still, even a chance of escape seemed better than nothing. Then again, quick and painless death with those she loved was infinitely preferable to the drawn out agonies that Thae’Lynn N’Quy doubtlessly planned for her. Best, she thought, to stay here and deny the bitch the pleasure of witnessing her death. Daedora ate little that evening, and said good night to her family with a heavy heart. In her chambers she crawled into bed, curled into a ball, and wept silently. Below, she could hear the faint chinking and clinking of sappers tools, of her enemies slowly but surely tunneling upward toward her. One last image of Narisha hovered before her, of the crimson-skinned woman lying naked beside her, touching her gently, whispering to her. "I love you, I love you all, no matter what I may say or do. When I am cruel to you, it is because I love you, and when I say things to you, I do not truly mean them, but it makes you want me all the more, and that makes me happy. I love you, little elf." Daedora wept openly now, hearing her sobs fill the room. One thing only. One chance. One last image... She sat up, reaching for her bedside table. In it, among all her other personal belongings, was a viewing crystal, which she used to communicate with Narisha and her crew when they were nearby. Daedora had tried to reach her lovers for weeks now, and each time had been thwarted. The Skate was either too far away, or the crystal no longer functioned. Daedora held the crystal close, weeping and whispering. "Narisha. Livia. Wulf. Anyone. Please, hear me. Please answer me." To her surprise, the crystal began to grow warm, and deep inside it, she saw the tiny image of the blonde-haired sorceress, Livia. "Daedora?" The voice was faint, but audible. "Is that you?" Livia! Faint hope grew inside her. "It’s me! Can you hear me?" "Only faintly, love. We’re south of Xesh, and we’re a long ways away." "Oh, Gods," Daedora said, feeling the tears start again. "Please. You must help me!" And the story came tumbling out. Not everything -- there was scarce time for that. Only that she was in danger, and that an army stood at the gates. What could the sorceress do save listen, Daedora wondered? They were too far, too far. "We’ll sail south," Livia said, determinedly. "I’ll try to set the crystal to locate us. Can you get a warhawk or a griffon and fly to meet us?" "I don’t know," Daedora whispered. "I don’t think so. Oh, Gods, Livia..." "Don’t!" Livia’s voice was edged with concern. "Don’t start now. There’ll be time for that later. We can be in Dark Elven waters in a couple of days. You need to find some way out of that fortress. Disguise yourself. Steal a flyer. Anything. Please, Daedora. Don’t give up." She steeled herself at the words, taking a tight grip of the terrible emotions inside her, locking them away, sealing them behind walls. "I’ll do it," she said. "I’ll try to keep in touch." "When the homing crystal is ready, I’ll key it to yours," Livia said. "It will glow blue when you are moving toward us. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do." "It’s all right," Daedora said, quickly. "It’s all right. I only wish... I wish I could bring my family..." "Just you, Daedora. We’ve no other choice. Please hurry. Stay alive, and we’ll decide what to do then." All thoughts of sleep vanished, and Daedora was out of bed, gathering possessions, thinking, wondering what to do. The next night, the sounds of picks were closer, and attacks on the upper ramparts grew in intensity. Dozens of N’Quy flyers fell to earth, pierced or burned by the defenders, but more of Yth’ela’s troops fell and soon only a handful remained. The upper ramparts were abandoned, and the family began to prepare for the final battle. Shadera said they would soon gather in the council chamber. Then, Daedora’s crystal began to glow blue. Tonight, she knew. Tonight would be her only chance. Thae’Lynn Colonel Ta’loren, Thae’Lynn’s chief adjutant and Second Eldest of House Voale, entered the inner chamber with an air of self-importance that he wore like a cloak. He was clad in sleek black armor, making him look like a red-eyed specter, gleaming with highlights of silver. Unfortunately, his attitude evaporated the moment he saw what his commander was doing. Lady Thae’Lynn stood, stark naked save for a dark crimson veil and her omnipresent silver piercings, legs apart, fingers spreading her swollen cunt lips, allowing access by... By, Ta’loren noted, torn between lust and nausea, a great black wolf, chained to a central post so that it could just barely reach the Duchess and lavish attention on her with its flexible pink tongue. Her head was thrown back, lips moist and open, eyes nearly closed, with only a thin sliver of whites showing. "Uhh... My Lady?" Ta’loren was almost afraid to speak. Her head snapped up when she heard him and she whirled, leaving the wolf yipping with disappointment. "What do you want, you moon-faced assassin of joy?" she demanded picking up a robe and wrapping herself in it. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood or you’d be the wolf’s next meal." "Uh, Lady. We are ready for the final assault. We have word that Duchess Yth’ela and her household will... Will cross over before we attack so that we cannot capture them alive." "Hm. Saving us the trouble, are they?" Thae’Lynn picked up a small dreamweed pipe and lit it with a smoldering incense taper. She inhaled, held her breath for a long moment, then expelled a stream of deep purple smoke. "Ah, well. I’ll grant them that much mercy. Begin the assault at midnight. If they’re still alive by the time we get there, well then they’ve no one to blame but themselves. You have your orders." Ta’loren saluted. "My Lady." He left with evident relief. Thae’Lynn turned back to her wolf. He was still eager for her, fired by spells and drugs. A pity to let it go to waste, she thought, dropping her robe and walking back toward him. "Feast, my pet," she whispered as she felt the hot pink flesh touch her. "Feast upon your mistress." Daedora Since the fall of the upper ramparts, the enemy had kept its aerial troops there. Passages to the upper floors were blocked with rubble, and heavily guarded. The last surviving Yth’ela warriors were tired, most were wounded, but all were ready to sell their lives dearly. Even so, Daedora was able, using a few minor cantrips, to slip unseen past them, and crawl carefully through the rubble choked stairways, toward the upper levels. Besides, she rationalized, they were on the watch for attackers from above, not interlopers from below. Things had happened so quickly that Daedora had barely had a chance to see her family one last time. Of course, she could not say she was leaving; they all believed that she would be gathering with them the next day to all pass together into eternity. She held back tears as she left them, gathered her small pack of belongings and headed upward. Outside, all was dark. Thick clouds obscured the moons, but Daedora’s enhanced senses picked out the soldiers and flying mounts who lounged on the walls, waiting for the call to battle. Her cantrips continued to hold out, or the enemy would have detected her as easily; Daedora’s people saw in the darkness as easily as others saw in the light. Now she crouched in shadow beside a large pile of rubble, the debris left by a great siege stone. The ramparts had always been her favorite part of the castle, and now they were in ruins, occupied by sworn enemies. More sorrow assaulted Daedora; she pushed it aside along with all the other fear and loss she felt. Ahead was a squadron of warbats -- these were beasts she had ridden before, which she knew how to control. Swift but rather stupid, the creatures did little fighting themselves, serving instead as mobile platforms for transporting infantry or archers. The bats riders lay nearby, all apparently asleep. Their mounts, on the other hand, looked restive, eager to take off for a night’s foraging. None were tethered or restrained. This was what Daedora had hoped. Warbats were expected to disappear when not being ridden, and the sleeping soldiers would not miss the bat she chose until the next day when it did not return. Even then, the rider might assume that the bat was lost to accident or a predator. Daedora’s heart pounded with terrifying intensity, and she felt it through her entire body. The bats were unsaddled, of course. Their tack lay nearby, beside the sleeping riders. If she were to ride one of the creatures, she would have to do so bareback, clinging to its fur, guiding it with hand pressure against its sensitive ears. She’d only done such a thing once in her life, and then she’d almost fallen. Now, her life depended upon it. A faint tingling in her ears and fingertips told Daedora that the cantrip was expiring, and in a few seconds she would be completely visible. Now was the time... Throwing all caution to the wind, she sprinted toward the bats. The spell would not protect her while she moved so quickly and openly, and if any of the Dark Elves on the walls happened to look her way. "Hey! What was that?" The voice should have frozen her in place, but instead it spurred her onward. Daedora leaped the last few feet, landing on the soft brown fur of a yawning warbat. Startled, the creature spread its wings and leaped from the wall, plummeting downward, surprised by the sudden weight on its back. Daedora clung to the fur for dear life, anticipating the shock when the bat finally arrested its fall and started to fly. When it came, it was almost too much for her; she felt her grip loosen, and one leg slip off, dangling behind the confused bat. The creature darted to and fro, diving and climbing; though it was used to a rider, Daedora had no saddle, and the sensations were proving too much for the bat to handle. It was several long minutes before the bat finally settled into a normal flight pattern, and to Daedora’s horror, she saw that it was making back toward the castle wall, where the Dark Elves milled around, alerted that something was up. The cantrip was gone now; if the creature returned, she’d be captured for certain. To be caught after only a few moments of freedom... Daedora steadied herself and guided the bat the way she’d been taught, by waving her hands near its large, intricately-funneled ears. Thinking that prey was nearby, the bat turned, banking toward the imagined target. She motioned near the other ear, and the beast responded accordingly. Below, the other bats began to launch themselves into the air, and the elves returned to their rest. They had not seen her. She was safe for the moment. The bat bobbed and weaved in the way of its kind. Bat flight was nowhere near as linear and graceful as that of a bird, and several times Daedora almost lost her grip, hanging precariously over the vast army encamped below. She saw now how futile Yth’ela’s struggle had been. The army was huge, and the elven forces had yet to be committed. On a lone promontory, she saw a darkly-lit indigo and blue pavilion, banners fluttering around it, and interspersed between them, a number of crosses from which still bodies, or parts of bodies, hung. Daedora shuddered, then gaped in fear as a great, hulking winged shape came out of the tent. Mazzor, Thae’Lynn’s lover. Was that the Protector’s own tent, she wondered? Daedora clung tightly to the bat’s fur, praying that the daemon did not see her. Thae’Lynn Mazzor’s horned dragon-head inclined up toward the darkened sky. "Someone is escaping," he said. "One of our enemies. On a warbat. I’m not certain who." Thae’Lynn shrugged. "A rat fleeing the sinking ship. Let it go. It will serve to spread word of our conquests. Now..." She turned to where her lover lay on his back, erection towering like the grim edifice of Council Spire. "Now where would you like to put that lovely cock, my beloved daemon?" Daedora Hours stretched by, and keeping the bat calm grew harder and harder. The flinty hills and low plains of her homeland fled by. The enemy was far behind, but now Daedora faced hunger, thirst, and a quarrelsome, uncooperative mount. Soon, the black waves of the ocean appeared, and she flew out over the open sea. Mindful of the shaking she was likely to get, Daedora had secured Livia’s crystal by a chain around her neck, and she checked on it periodically, guiding the bat in the correct direction, maintaining a bright blue glow. How far she needed to fly was uncertain, and the few times she tried to contact Livia through the crystal, she got no response. It was nearly dawn when she finally saw the sails of the Skate, and her gloom lifted. The bat seemed to sense that the long journey was soon to be over, and flapped toward the ship with renewed enthusiasm. Perhaps it was the inviting yardarms, where it could sleep, wings furled, but whatever the reason, Daedora had no trouble guiding her troublesome mount the last league or so to the ship. When she at last tumbled to the deck, looking up at a young blonde human named Steph, Daedora knew that she was, for the moment, safe. Home was gone, or soon would be, and all she knew and loved would be dead or destroyed. She managed a weak smile when she saw Narisha, and finally fell senseless into her lover’s arms. Here, now, she had a home, and a place where she could recover. And plan her vengeance. Wulf Anyone who goes out of his or her way to make someone else cry is, in all likelihood, scum. In this case, anyone who could make a young woman as good natured and kind as Daedora cry was probably asking for decapitation. Since the villain in question was Thae’Lynn N’Quy, of course, she’d condemned herself for about the twentieth time over as far as I was concerned. For, I realized, cradling Daedora against me as Narisha and Livia stroked and petted her and told her that everything was going to be all right, this was a kind and good hearted woman. Dark Elf she was and, for many people, that in itself was enough to condemn her. But I’ve known far too many wicked light elves, and far too many noble orcs and selfless demons to judge a person by the color of her skin, or the shape of her ears or the antiquity of her culture. If the Dark Elves were evil, then the world had made them that way, most notably their smarmy cousins the High Elves, who had driven them out centuries before. Here, sobbing and shaking before me in utter emotional collapse, was a Dark Elf, and I knew that I cared for her, and wanted to see justice done to those who had slaughtered her family and destroyed her home. "There, there," I said softly. "It’s going to be all right." As hackneyed and cliched as it was, that was about all I could say right then, or else I’d start weeping myself. Damn, but I’m sensitive. * * * * It took several hours for poor Daedora to compose herself sufficiently to provide us with any more real information. What we got was disturbing, and enough to make me immediately suggest we light out of Dark Elven waters and head straight for a nice quiet igloo in the extreme north of Cold Isle, where the Dark Elves were unlikely to show up. What I considered a very reasonable suggestion was vetoed, though Livia ordered us to set sail and head north with all speed. Thae’Lynn, it seemed, had her fingers in a large number of pies, and had not been letting mushrooms grow under her feet since our last meeting. "She is definitely gathering an army, mostly foreign mercenaries. She’s promising very rich rewards, giving them gold and concubines and very old weapons. I guess she’s been gathering up ancient artifacts for years, and is giving the non-magical stuff to her troops. Her core leadership is all female, though, and most of her officers are other dark elves. She has some humans, I think. Perhaps some Wolfen and Tandu, as well." "She doesn’t discriminate," I said. "I suspect she finds the beast-folk pretty stimulating company, if I remember her proclivities aright." "Only trusts women, eh?" Narisha asked. "Smart girl." "Quiet," I said. "She lets her mercs do all the fighting?" Daedora nodded. "It’s traditional. Our own soldiers are saved for the final battle, or not used at all. We prefer to manipulate, rule from the shadows." "What about her pet High Elves?" Livia asked. "What is she doing with them?" "No idea. We were shut up in the fortress for so long... There was no news after House Nendotha fell. We heard that they were acting as her agents abroad, where High Elves would raise less suspicion than Dark Elves, but I don’t know for certain. There were so many rumors. That she was dabbling in necromancy, preparing to open another dimensional portal, or summoning ancient sea daemons to be part of her navy." I looked anxiously out the porthole. "Nothing out there yet," I observed, "but then the night is still young." "We’re sailing north, Wulf," Livia assured me. "Out of her sphere of influence." "For the moment, anyway." I didn’t feel much better. "She’s been busy, I’ll grant her that." Narisha didn’t seem much interested in sex, but I knew it was only a temporary lull. I shrugged. "What’s it mean to us? You say she’s managed to take ultimate power in the dark elf realms, that she’s got the High Prince eating out of her... Well, her hand, and that she’s building a huge army armed with ancient weapons. We’re just a bunch of itinerant adventurers with a nice ship. It seems to me that the best we can do is keep our heads down and hope that she doesn’t notice us." "You’re sounding awfully pragmatic," Livia said. "That bitch killed your girlfriend Sarra, laid waste to the Elven Islands, tried to kill you three times -- or was it four? -- and almost killed Li and Theanna. Me too, I guess, if you count those storm daemons." "You think I don’t know that?" I said, feeling somewhat helpless. "If I knew some way to really nail the fucking cunt, I’d do it. However, I suspect she’s a bit beyond the reach of our vengeance right now." "Just a minute," Narisha interjected, "I object to your use of the word ‘cunt.’ I think it demeans a perfectly lovely part of the body to use it as a pejorative." "I stand corrected," I said. "When I said ‘cunt,’ I actually meant Gods-damned cocksucking ice-queen bitch. Is that any better?" "I would think you would be the last people on all of Thystra to object to cocksucking," my dear demoness continued, shaking her blue-black hair. Yes, I was right. The old libido was coming back. Too bad the rest of us weren’t in the mood. "She’s planning something," Livia said. "Armies are too expensive just to sit on them. Especially mercenaries. She’s going to use them." "For what?" I asked. "Even with an army of mercs, she would still need naval transport, and the High Elves would never stand for that. Not after the Stormking." Livia laughed at that. "Damned prick-ears think they own the Inner Sea. It’s getting downright impossible to be an honest corsair anymore." "Who else is she going to fight? The Demons?" Now it was Narisha’s turn to laugh derisively. "In a goblin’s eye! We’d send her streaking back for home the minute she set foot across the border." "Don’t be so sure. She’s got a few thousand years of magical heritage and hatred behind her." "And you have no idea what we’ve got, my little pet. No idea." I accepted Narisha’s statement with a neutral grunt. Taking on the Demons was likely to end in disaster, but up to now, disaster was Thae’Lynn’s middle name. Even so, she had managed to end up on top of the heap in Dark Elf land, and now looked to be turning her sights on the rest of us. "Perhaps her pet elves have something to do with it," Livia suggested. "Like Daedora says, they prefer to let others do the fighting. Maybe they’re out provoking a fight right now." "I doubt she’d pull anything so overt," I said. "I’m sure her toy elves are in action somewhere, but they’re doing something we don’t yet suspect." [end of part 3] -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----