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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty-Three: Natural Inclinations

With his arms shackled behind his back and his long, tapering, prehensile tail locked into a wrought iron device that's clipped onto the chain of his shackles, Steingar is led into a dark and dingy cell. His captors laugh to themselves as they shove the drunken Helngar into the tiny room, leaving him prostrate on the cold, stone floor. Hearing the cell door closing behind him, he knows that he's caught. He does his best to sit up, his head spinning from the excess of alcohol tainting his blood. Shaking his head, the room spins with it. The vertigo causes him to slump against a nearby wall.

How did this happen? How could he allow himself to be captured so easily? It was only today that they began exploring the capital city; twenty-four hours earlier, he and his companions were all still aboard the Arona-Dahl. He feels an uneasiness within him as he tries to gather his bearings. The sensation is unmistakable. Leaning over, he slides against the wall as he falls. The drunk Helngar slithers along the icy stones; his hands are still shackled behind his back. Reaching an old, foul smelling bucket, he promptly vomits into the receptacle.

“Ugh..." He lies on his side, his face only inches from the bucket. “Damnit... How the hell did this even happen?"

Closing his glowing, golden eyes, he rolls onto his back. He stares at the darkness of the ceiling. The room is lit only by the residual light from a few lanterns hung in the hallway, their soft, orange glow entering between the bars of the small, square hole in his cell door. As he finally begins to gradually sober up, Steingar thinks back on the day, remembering the previous night, before it all went wrong. Moving relentlessly through the calm seas, the Arona-Dahl made her way toward the capital city, her steam engine at full power, as it had been since they'd started their journey.

It was dusk, as it was when he was captured. They were on their second day of the three-day journey to the island of Vaspania, the largest in all of the Erie Isles. Everyone knew that it'd be on the horizon by tomorrow. Like himself, much of the crew passed the time as they often did. Some, however, had too much on their minds.

“Ow!" Jarae growls, slamming into Steingar as she traverses the hall.

“Hey, slow down. Where's the fire?" He turns to her.

“Nowhere... Move."

“Can I get a 'please'?" He raises a brow.

“Please move your ass..." She snarls.

“Are you alright?"

“I'm fine, now stand aside!"

Seeing the frustration on her face, Steingar sidesteps, allowing the pink-haired Jaliscan to storm down the stairs and into the bottom deck.

“What's her problem now?" He quietly thinks aloud.

Moving away from the landing, he can hear the others in the lounge; Kirsta and Mairlynn play a card game with Lutala and Irzain. With nothing better to do, the quartet gamble with colorful stones as they carefully play their hands. Moving toward the archway, however, he pauses when he hears something else. Shifting his attention down the hall, it's finally made clear what was bothering Jarae. First, he chuckles, then he feels a tinge of pity. He can only imagine how difficult all of this must be for her, all things considered. He looks down at the floor, wondering how the lonely Jaliscan is handling her pain.

Sitting alone in Valan's workshop, Jarae perches herself atop a closed chest near the corner. It contains loose metal bits and an assortment of odd tools, which the gunman uses to fashion his bizarre, new weapons. In her clawed hands sits the coal figurine. Using a tiny knife and a special cloth, she carves the finishing touches to the sculpture before polishing the figurine. Working quietly in the room, void of all other life, her mind wanders.

“So... Are you excited about reaching the capital city?" Trellan's voice abruptly asks her.

“Eh..." She shrugs her shoulders.

“I see... Do you have anything planned when we reach land?"

“Mhm..." She subtly nods her head.

“Ah... Well... I know the overall plan – drop off Draeolynn and Lutala, then look for clues to help Irzain – I was asking about you, specifically."

“I know..." She murmurs.

“... Are you alright? You're quiet, but you aren't often this quiet."

She glances over her shoulder, looking back at the hologram of Trellan. His foot tall, translucent image stands atop the onyx plate, a little smile on his face as he looks at her. She hadn't spoken to him much in the past two days, although she didn't spend much time with him when he was still flesh and blood, either. Lowering her hands and resting them in her lap, she lets out a melancholy sigh.

“I just have a lot on my mind." She finally replies.

“Anything you'd like to talk about?"

“... What's it like in there?" Jarae asks, ignoring his comment.

“Oh, it's not so bad! I don't have to worry about my bowel regularity anymore, and it's never too hot and then suddenly too cold." The Vizhek's hologram answers.

“Always a plus." She softly giggles.

“But it's interesting... There's no pain, no hunger or thirst, no desire to sleep, and with the cables I'd installed throughout Arona, I can control her as if she was an extension of my body."

“Seriously?!"

The amber glow of the ship's unique overhead lights suddenly dim, before coming back in full force. The glow then gradually softens, returning to its original intensity.

“Seriously." Trellan replies.

“That's quite a trick... You know, it would've been nice if you'd told us about the soul shard, or your will." She remarks.

“Forgive me for not handling the excruciating pain of a gunshot to your liking." His flickering hologram smirks.

“Forgiven!"

“Jarae..."

“Yes?"

“If you don't want to talk about what's bothering you, then perhaps you could answer a question for me."

“Such as?" She cocks her head.

“I've spoken with the others, and I've heard them out, but now I'd like to ask you... Are you sure that this is a good idea? I mean, this is the capital city we're talking about. It has the highest population density of any place in the Isles, and with that comes the most soldiers, bounty hunters, and eyes to recognize you... It feels kind of... I don't know... Stupid!"

“I know... I feel that way, too..."

“Then why are we doing it?!"

“I suppose because we don't have any other good options." She sighs, turning her attention to her lap. “I mean, Irzain's people were taken there, and Draeolynn and Lutala are just passengers. They both want to leave, and I don't blame them. I probably would too, but... ... Never mind. Anyway, Draeolynn can charter a ship very easily from there, and Lutala's family fled there before doing the same."

“Those two girls can charter a ship from any major city; there are companies and freelance Captains everywhere. Lutala has a valid excuse, sort of; she wants to ask around and make sure that her family are still alive, but she already knows where they went. As for Irzain, do you really think he's going to find anything to his liking on the capital city, the home of the King who's hunting him and his former associates?" He retorts.

“... Well, what else are we to do with them?"

“Throw them all overboard and find a nice place to live?" Trellan chuckles.

“If only." Jarae mutters, a little smile spreading across her lips.

“At least with Draeolynn gone, maybe then you could..."

Jarae freezes in place and her heart sinks. Her tail hangs limply behind her, no longer swishing gracefully from side to side. She glances at Trellan's hologram. His image flickers as he stands in silence. He looks toward her hands, which sit in her lap, the coal figurine held tightly in her palms. She gazes upon it, loosening her grip and looking down at it for a moment. Suddenly, she's struck with a horrifying realization.

“You... You can see out of that?!" She gasps.

“Well, yeah! Wouldn't do me much good to control the ship if I was blind."

“By the Seraphs..." She hangs her head, her wild, pink hair falling over her face and snout.

“... You shouldn't keep that bottled up inside, Jarae. It's not healthy."

“Leave me be, old man..."

“I'm speaking from experience." Trellan growls. “You won't have nearly as many years as I did, and the last thing you want to live with is regrets. Believe me, regrets are worse than mistakes! All of those years thinking about what could've been..."

“Can we please not talk about this?" Jarae murmurs, staring at her feet.

“You don't think I wanted to die unmarried and childless, do you? That's partially why I built Arona in the first place, and the soul processor; I'm thinking of calling it 'The Abacus'. Sort of a clever joke... Adding up souls?"

“I get it..." She mutters, her gaze unmoving.

“Anyway, I wanted to leave something behind, any legacy at all. Don't make my mistakes, Jarae. I don't want to see you grow old and miserable." He continues.

“I'm tired. I'm going to bed... Goodnight, Trellan."

“Goodnight, Jarae... Just think about what I said."

Slipping the figuring into a pouch on her belt, keeping her tools separate, so as not to damage it, she hastily leaves Valan's workshop and climbs the stairs. Her ears immediately detect the sounds she'd been avoiding; Arona's steam turbine does a wonderful job of masking such things. With a silent snarl, she stares down the hallway, slowly heading for her own cabin. Emerging from the lounge, a yawning Kirsta heads for her room as well, nearly bumping into the Jaliscan.

“Oh, sorry!"

“It's alright." Jarae murmurs.

“Where've you been? I haven't seen you much today."

“The bottom deck, in the workshop."

“Working on a project?" Kirsta prods.

“Just getting away from all the noise..."

“Noise?" The blond-haired human raises a brow.

One of the pink-haired Jaliscan's tall ears shift, turning toward a door. The buxom human pauses and focuses her inferior hearing. Slowly, the sounds make themselves known to her.

“Ahh-ahh-ahh!" Draeolynn's voice faintly squeals from the room.

“Oh..." Kirsta faintly flushes. “I forgot about them... I'm sorry."

“For what?" Jarae sighs, her shimmering, pink eyes fixated upon Valan's bedroom door.

“Well, because..."

Jarae's eyes shift, turning toward the human, who looks up at her tall ears. Clearing her throat, Kirsta can't help but feel pity for the Jaliscan. She knows that Valan is somehow special to her, though she's unsure of the true extent. Every woman except for Lutala was present in the temple of Nirthen when Jarae explained her thoughts and feelings, her motivations for joining them, and to their ears and minds, she sounded incredibly taken with Valan. Even if she doesn't love him, it can't be pleasant listening to him enjoying the flesh of another woman.

“Nothing. Nevermind."

“Alright... I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight, Kirsta."

“Goodnight, Jarae."

Jarae swiftly disappears into her room, closing the cabin door. After a brief pause, Kirsta does the same. She closes the door as she steps inside and begins to strip away her turquoise clothes, setting them in a neat pile atop a nearby stool. Standing nude in her cabin, she can hear Valan grunting and Draeolynn moaning. It arises a familiar but discomforting feeling; normally she can control her arousal, but lately it's become much more difficult. Looking down at her exquisite form, she lets out a sullen sigh.

Her large, perky, D-cup breasts jut out from her chest so wonderfully, her slender waist and broad hips lead to her toned legs, and her entire form is shrouded in unblemished, alabaster skin. She's a beautiful creature and she knows it, and yet the redheaded Falmun, with the looks, body and mannerisms of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old woman, is consistently having far more fun than she is. It feels quite unfair. Even without an attraction to Valan, she finds herself envying Draeolynn. Closing her big, sapphire eyes tightly, she shakes her head and tries to shift her thoughts as her loins become moist.

Climbing into her cot, she pulls the blanket away and slithers beneath it. The sounds coming from the other room don't help her relax, only making things worse.

“Nngf, nngf, rrrrRRRRR!" Valan growls.

“AHH-YES!" Draeolynn squeals.

It sounds as though the pair have climaxed, reaching their peaks at the same time. The sounds instantly fade, and Kirsta breathes a sigh of relief. Without them to distract her, she's able to control her thoughts, and after a time, she drifts off to sleep.

“Mmmm-ooohh..."

Lying in her old bed and covered with a familiar deer hide blanket, Kirsta softly moans. His lips gently kiss her neck, just the way she likes. His rough hands caress her body, gliding over her alabaster skin. Feeling his way along her elegant form, the soft curvature of her waist, he rests his large hands on her ample breasts. He grasps quite firmly to her feminine mounds, pinching her soft, pink nipples and causing her to squeal.

“Oooh, Luvel..." She coos. “You always know just what to do to me."

She opens her eyes, gazing at her lover. She can recall his death, but he's so warm, so passionate, so alive. He leans in and attends to her breasts with his tongue and lips, before returning to kiss her so lovingly on her mouth. Stealing her heart with his affections, her eyes slowly close. With each deep kiss he silently reminds her of his love for her. Her dainty hands slide down his body, her slender fingers caressing his manhood. It was always considerable. Suddenly, Luvel's skin turns cold. He pulls his hands away as he removes himself from her grasp. She can feel the hide blanket falling away as he shifts in the bed that they once shared.

Opening her eyes, Kirsta turns her head. Luvel sits up in their bed, in their room in the clan house, back on the island that she'd always known as her home. Growing concerned for the man she was to marry, she sits up beside him. The buxom woman's golden locks fall so gently over her shoulders, barely reaching down and covering her mammaries. Her sapphire eyes scan Luvel's form, focusing on his expressionless face. He stares straight ahead, looking at the wall with such intensity that she wonders if he can somehow see something that she cannot.

“Luvel? ... Love?"

Luvel doesn't answer her. She reaches out a hand and touches his arm, gasping and pulling her hand way as soon as she feels the clammy texture of his ice-cold flesh.

“Luvel, what's wrong?! Are you ill?!"

“I need to see Matius..." He speaks in a low growl.

“I-I'll go find him for you."

Kirsta throws the hide blanket from her nude form, stepping onto the wooden floorboards. She dashes toward her clothes, throwing them over her frame, a picture of perfection.

“Matius?" Luvel's voice becomes raspy.

“I'll get him for you, my love!" Kirsta's voice shivers with fear.

“Please. Let me stay."

She turns back to look toward the bed, pausing when the floorboards feel charred. Glancing down, the floor looks like a log that'd been pulled from the bottom of a campfire. She turns to her lover, but promptly brings her slender fingers up to cover her gaping maw, horrified to see that his flesh is peeling away and falling from his very bones. His eyes are gone, and his hair falls out in patches, still attached to pieces of skin. With tears streaming from his empty eye sockets, Luvel stares at the wall.

“Please..." His voice is now a low, sickly growl. “Let me stay."

“It's time to go."

Turning her head, Kirsta stands in frozen terror, looking at the putrid, undead body of Elder Matius. He holds out a boney hand toward Luvel, beckoning him to the afterlife, where the Elder already resides. Luvel's body falls apart in bed with a sickening, watery sound. His fluids drip from the bed, a river of crimson staining the burnt floor.

“NOO!" Kirsta screams, jolting awake. “By the Seraphs... Oh, Luvel..."

Sitting up in her bed, her body trembles. Why do these dreams persist? Why won't they just go away? She crosses her arms cross her bare breasts, looking down at her legs as her vision begins to blur. The nightmares always seem so real, and this one was no different. Softly weeping, Kirsta wipes the tears from her cheeks as she struggles with the loss of the man she loved. Her emotions swirl within her like a terrible storm. Pain and sadness are followed by anger and resentment.

Why did Irzain have to bring this upon her? She should be married to Luvel and pregnant with the first of their many children. As she thinks about the future she could've had with her lover, she recalls the start of her dream. How wonderful his touch was, and how comforting he could be. She hasn't felt true comfort in a long time. She caresses her own breasts as she thinks back on Luvel's strong hands, gleefully exploring her quivering flesh.

“I miss you..." She whimpers.

The fire burns within her, trickling down from her abdomen and reaching her loins. She grows increasingly moist as she ponders the dream. Realizing this, she closes her eyes, shakes her head and remembers that Luvel is as lifeless and cold as a stone. It helps her, but only to a point. This has been building within her for some time now. It never goes away completely, though she wishes it would.

“Rrr... I need to get off this damn ship." She growls to herself.

Throwing the blanket from her bare legs, she walks toward a stool and collects her clothes, quickly dressing in her simple, turquoise tunic, pants and gambeson, the colors of her long-dead clan. Gazing out of the porthole, she can see that it's long past daybreak. Perhaps they're close to Vaspania? According to both Steingar and Trellan, at full-speed, it was only a three-day journey. Leaving her room and entering the hallway, she makes her way toward the upper deck. As her room is closest to the stairwell, she reaches the landing within seconds. However, her stomach softly rumbles. She turns back and heads into the lounge, finding Lutala and Mairlynn sitting at the dining booth.

“Hi there!" Mairlynn chirps, waving at her friend.

“Hey..." Kirsta speaks in a low, irritated voice as she passes them.

“Well, someone's looking chipper today!" Mairlynn quips.

“Yeah, yeah..." She sighs, stepping into the galley.

“I hope you don't mind my saying so, but in the past few days we've been sailing to Vaspania, I've noticed that you don't look happy in the mornings. Do you struggle with sleep?" Lutala asks, turning toward the galley.

“I get sleep. I just have... Other issues..."

“Oh?"

“Bad dreams?" Mairlynn asks.

“Look it's... Never mind... Just drop it, okay?"

Emerging from the galley, Kirsta holds a plate of citrus fruits and dry cheese slices, taken from a small wheel, wrapped in wax paper in a cupboard. She pauses and glances toward the lounge archway, thinking back on her nightmare. As she stares through the opening, Valan and Draeolynn pass by. The long-haired human gives the dainty elf's perky butt a little smack as he directs her up the stairs and onto the main deck. Kirsta impulsively snarls. Though she knows she shouldn't, she resents them; perhaps they don't love each other but they still spend time together, enjoying talks, hugs, kisses, and worst of all, sex.

“Oh!" Mairlynn flashes a sinister grin. “I get it!"

“Shut up, Mair..." Kirsta growls.

“It's okay, Kirsta. I get jealous of her, too. I'd do anything to have him ravaging my little pu-"

“I said, shut up!" Kirsta yells at the child-like Falmun.

“Alright, fine..." She falls quiet.

“... I'm sorry, okay? ... That's not it, though." Kirsta says while taking a seat at the bench, sitting across from them.

“Oh?" Lutala raises an orange brow.

“Then what's the problem, if you don't want sex?" A perplexed Mairlynn wonders.

“I didn't say that. I miss sex, yeah, but I'm just getting really tired of seeing those two together every day... Being... I don't know." The blond-haired human grumbles.

As she picks at her food, her expression changes. The Lahnyt and Falmun glance between each other, seeing the change right away. Kirsta reaches out for a carved, wooden cup, pouring herself some water from a pitcher on the table.

“Is that because you wish it were you?" Lutala suddenly asks.

“... What?" Kirsta pauses mid-drink and glares at her.

“I didn't mean with Valan, specifically, but you are a woman. Those desires and urges are only natural; the need for a connection, passion, the desire for happiness and love..."

“Well, I could say the same thing about you, miss priestess!" Kirsta growls. “Do you wish it was you?!"

Kirsta smirks, confident that she's backed the Lahnyt healer into a corner.

“Why wouldn't I?"

“Seriously?!" Kirsta's eyes widen.

“I may be a priestess, but I'm a woman, too. Wouldn't you rather have it than not?" Lutala casually replies.

Kirsta opens her mouth to speak, even going so far as to take a breath. Mairlynn, however, beats her to the punch.

“Not with Valan. He isn't her type. She likes big, burly, woodcutters. I bet she'd love to have one of those on board!"

“Why are we even talking about this?!" Kirsta glances between them.

“We all have our own tastes."

“What kind of men do you prefer?" Mairlynn asks with a little grin.

“Humans..." Lutala flushes, her blue cheeks taking on a reddish hue.

“Oooh!" The Falmun coos. “So, you're one of those!"

“I just find humans to be very... Compelling..."

“I like men; just so long as he has a shaft and two stones, I'm open to just about anyone." Mairlynn winks at Lutala.

“Well, that's certainly more open minded than I am." Lutala chuckles.

“I have a lot of time to think. Don't you do that? Think about what you'd like to have?"

“This has been entertaining, but-"

“I don't often bother to dwell on such things." Lutala continues, talking over Kirsta.

“Why not?!" Mairlynn gasps.

“There's no point. I'm bound by the code."

“Code?"

“Yes. As a priestess of my order, the Yashuvanites, I'm forbidden from enjoying any men, beyond my own husband or a man with whom I'd like to partner and eventually marry. That's a bit of a gray area, but love is a prerequisite, regardless." The Lahnyt casually takes a sip of wine.

“Can we change the subject, please?!" Kirsta attempts to interject.

“Wait... You're married?!" Mairlynn gasps.

“No."

“Oh... Then how do you-"

“I don't." The Lahnyt swiftly answers. “I'd need to be married to, or desire marriage with a specific man in order to be permitted the joys of sex."

“Wow... So, you just use your fingers, then?!"

“No." Lutala sighs.

“Oh... That's boring!"

“Why don't we talk about something else, now!" Kirsta growls with a snippy tone.

“Apologies." Lutala bows her head. “Would you rather we to talk about your dreams?"

“No. That's not important. I was just remembering all of the ways that Irzain ruined my life." She half-jokingly replies. “Where is that asshole anyway?"

“On the main deck. He's training with Steingar." Mairlynn chirps, stealing a piece of cheese from Kirsta's plate.

“Now that's something I'd like to see!"

Rising from her seat, Kirsta carries her plate and cup of water, snacking on her food as she bounds out of the lounge. Traversing the steps, she lifts the watertight hatch and climbs up from the lower deck. A loud thud startles her, and she nearly drops her plate and cup as she jumps.

“Ugh..." Irzain groans, lying flat on his back, only a few feet away.

“Come on, man! You can do better! Valan doesn't let me shove him down like that!"

“So, you like him being on top? I didn't know that about you." Irzain retorts.

“Oh-ho! Someone has jokes! With a mouth like that, you'd better be ready to defend yourself." Steingar smirks.

“If it comes to that, I'll bite it off." Irzain quips.

“Spoken like a woman." Steingar reaches out a clawed hand. “Get up. We'll try again."

“Maybe I'm too old for this kind of thing?" Irzain remarks with a groan as the Helngar pulls him from the floor.

“Don't hurt him too badly. I have first rights to his life." Kirsta speaks up.

“Well, someone's finally awake!" Draeolynn chirps.

“Come to see the horizon?" Valan points toward the bow of the ship.

Kirsta's brow raises as her gaze follows his finger. In the distance, many miles away, is the island of Vaspania, the homeland of the Vizhek and the seat of their Kingdom. A strange structure, massive in its construction, stretches into the sky and contrasts with the lush, green foliage. It's a gargantuan stone archway, which stretches between two thin peninsulas of land, more than a quart mile apart. She slowly approaches the bow, looking upon the object in awe. She's never seen anything like it. With his arm around her slender waist, Valan and Draeolynn join her at the front of the ship.

“Already?!" She gasps.

“Yeah. We should be there in a few hours; afternoon, most likely. Maybe dusk, if there's a long line at the harbor." Steingar answers.

Leaning against the wooden railing, Kirsta feels the wind in her long, blond hair. It caresses the soft skin of her face. Steingar and Irzain continue to spar on the main deck, the human regularly thudding against the hardwood. She glances over her shoulder, watching as the competent Helngar warrior does his best to train the middle-aged scribe in the most basic arts of hand-to-hand combat. The buxom woman always took those skills for granted, having learned them early in her life.

As soon as she began to develop into her womanhood, the men of her clan took notice. It wasn't abnormal for them to be rather forceful, and telling them “no" often involved them receiving a bloody nose or split lip. However, saying “yes" was often just as violent in her clan of warriors, woodcutters and fisherman, and she'd gleefully fought several men into submission, proving her worth to them. Luvel was her favorite, by far, and it wasn't long before he'd broken through her defenses and stolen her heart.

Remembering her life in the clan, before Irzain came along, she finds their sparring to be quite endearing. Turning back, she enjoys the sight of their almost playful fight. Irzain does his best, but he soon becomes winded, while Steingar has yet to break a sweat; his fur is as dry as a bone. As the pair laugh about Irzain's atrocious skills, her mood suddenly changes. She takes offense to their banter and little smiles. Cracking her knuckles, she approaches the pair as they pause for a rest, her sights set on Irzain.

“My turn." She growls.

“Be my guest!" Steingar chirps, stepping aside.

“What?! I don't want to fight a woman!"

“Neither do I, but you need to learn." Kirsta flashes a sinister grin.

“That's right, Kirsta! Show him how to be a big girl!"

She doesn't give Irzain any time to reply, striking him as Steingar laughs in the background. Valan and Draeolynn turn their attention to the playful match, which swiftly becomes increasingly violent. Even Steingar cannot overlook the ferocity with which Kirsta attacks Irzain. After taking a short beating, Irzain is only successful in shielding his face from her assault. Bloodied and bruised, he manages to pull away. He throws up his hands; he's had enough.

“Wait! I-oof!"

Kirsta punches him in the stomach. As he reels, she hits him with a right-hook. Trying for another, he raises an arm in his defense.

“Well, you've finally learned to block, at least." She remarks as she shakes out a fist.

“Yeah, I have... Enough lessons for today, alright?" He asks, licking a small cut at the corner of his mouth.

“Already?! What if I was an enemy?! Are you just going to ask me nicely, beg me to stop and hope that I'll yield?!"

“But you're not an enemy. I don't-"

“No, I wouldn't! I'd come at you until you were dead! Just like everyone else who meets you!"

“Huh?!"

She steps closer, glaring with a strange intensity. Her sapphire eyes are like a blue flame, seething with a mixture of potent emotions. Visibly enraged and breathing rapidly and deeply, her chest heaves as she approaches him. Valan and Steingar share a worried look. What's wrong with Kirsta? Why is she suddenly so hostile?

“Now, we're going to do this again, and try to actually hit me this time!"

“Can't we just-"

“DO IT!!!"

She screams at the top of her lungs, startling everyone. She storms up to him, frightening Irzain and causing him to scurry away. Giving chase, Kirsta nearly runs into Jarae as she emerges from the opened hatch, drawn by the sound of the commotion. The others watch them for a moment, first with amusement and then with worry. Realizing that Kirsta won't stand down, Steingar and Valan step in, placing themselves between the scribe and the warrior woman.

“Out of the way!" She roars.

“He's done, and so are you." Steingar calmly retorts.

“The hell I am! Move your ass!"

“You've entertained us enough. Take a break." Valan interjects.

Kirsta pauses for only a moment before stomping even closer. Neither man hesitates to act, as Irzain did. Swinging a fist at Valan, he blocks her with a forearm before grabbing her waist with his free hand. Holding her by the side and her outstretched arm, he swings and pushes her toward Steingar, who swiftly grapples her from behind, an arm around her neck.

“Calm down." Steingar speaks casually.

“Go to hell! We're not done here!"

“What the hell are you doing?! It's clear that he doesn't want to fight you!" Valan remarks.

“He's had this coming for a long time now!" She screams.

“Knock it off! We don't have time for this!" Steingar growls, struggling with the surprisingly strong female.

“No! He's gotten off easy while the rest of us always suffer!"

Irzain glances toward the others, nursing his split lip. It's clear from their expressions, that many of them share Kirsta's feelings and are just too kind to share it. Stepping closer and reaching out, Valan attempts to grapple Kirsta's legs. However, she flails and kicks him in the chest, causing him to fall back. Unwilling to allow her to continue, Steingar squeezes, pulling his arm around her neck. She struggles with his forearm, her hands slipping on his soft coat of grey fur. With modest but consistent pressure, he chokes her into unconsciousness. No sooner than she passes out, Valan grabs her legs and the pair take her into Trellan's cabin, lying her on the Vizhek's vacant bed.

“Well, that was interesting..." Jarae remarks.

“She's just, uhm... Having a hard time." Valan comments.

“Who isn't?" Mairlynn sighs.

“Look. We're almost there." Steingar points.

“What's that big thing stretching across the water?" Irzain asks, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Vasar's Arch. The twelfth of the thirteen wonders of the world. Constructed by King Vasar after the Unification Wars that helped restructure the Kingdom of the Erie Isles. Built to commemorate his victories, and the introduction of the Vasarik, his standardized currency." Draeolynn explains, speaking like a tour guide.

The crew watch in awe as the magnificent structure, built of white marble, passes over their ship, easily clearing the towering masts. They're now entering the harbor of the capital city, the most populous city in all of the Isles. Steingar's stomach drops as he suddenly has a frightening realization. Racing toward the control box, he struggles with the latch, but before he can open the box and pull the appropriate levers, the sails begin to unfurl on their own. The steam engine slows, the smoke from the stack fading into the wind; it's soon masked by the ship's open sails. They flutter in the gentle breeze as the ship lumbers into the harbor, crawling closer, like any other Galleon or Frigate.

“Thanks, Trellan." Steingar remarks to himself.

The ship turns itself around a corner, following the waterway toward the city. Before them sits a section of a castle, old and dilapidated. It's since become a segment of the wall that protects the city. Lining the wall are cages, large enough to fit an adult Vizhek. They dangle beneath the wall, beside a section of rocky cliffs, a wooden sign reading “the fate of pirates" in sloppy, black paint. Displaying criminals isn't uncommon. Moving further through the waterway, the crew stand in a mixture of shock and awe, looking upon a row of stakes.

Jutting from the outer edge and near the top of the wall, the stakes are lined with heads, the sticks shoved through the base of the skulls. A much larger and well-crafted sign read “traitors to the Kingdom" in neat, red paint. Examining the heads, which look downward at them, Irzain suddenly pauses. He furls his brow and stares, only for his hand to begin trembling. His mouth hangs open and he steps back, his eyes growing wide. The others take notice.

“Irzain?" Jarae turns to him. “Are you okay?"

“... Bremen?!" He gasps.

“Who?"

Irzain doesn't answer. He stares intently at the putrid head of a Helngar, with two-tone turquoise and black fur. It's obvious that the former owner of the head has been dead for some time. Irzain turns his eyes, scanning the row. He pauses, his body beginning to convulse as he stumbles backward. He nearly falls over, and both Mairlynn and Jarae rush to his aid.

“N-no... No!" He shouts.

“What's wrong?" Steingar steps closer.

“Talk to us!" Valan inches toward him.

“Are you ill?" Mairlynn asks him.

“Oh, no! Please, no! By the Seraphs, no!"

Irzain abruptly scrambles away, racing toward the opened hatch before disappearing below deck. The others look back at the heads, seeing the scores of slain men. Amidst the skulls and the putrid faces of the dead are newer heads, fresher and with their flesh and fur still attached. A bird sits atop a long, triangular skull, pecking at the empty eye sockets. Its yellow talons dig into the fur atop the head of a Helngar female; she bore a two-tone pattern of black and purple.

A Helngar woman is a rare display; many of the Helngar go to their graves serving the Crown as loyal soldiers and stewards, as they do for their home nation, back on the mainland. Valan scratches his bearded chin and Jarae cocks her head. Steingar steps closer, staring intently at the head as they pass by.

“Did he know her?" Lutala turns and asks the crew.

“Oh no... Shit!" Steingar exclaims, a look of horror on his face.

“What?" Mairlynn turns to him.

“That's got to be her... His dream girl..."

The others turn back, looking at the head as it shrinks in the distance. They'd mostly forgotten about her, as Irzain rarely speaks of his dreams to anyone anymore. Even Steingar, who was privy to Naoma's existence early on, hadn't thought of her in weeks. Realizing the gravity of the situation, they search the ship while Trellan continues to guide the vessel, crawling into the harbor at a gentle pace. Finding Irzain locked inside of his cabin, they beckon to him, but he refuses to come out. He doesn't even respond to their calls, sobbing uncontrollably from the comfort of his room.

Growing increasingly concerned, they perform another search of the ship, this time to tally their weapons. Every firearm, bow, knife and sharp tool is accounted for. Though they breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that he most likely won't commit suicide, they worry for the scribe. What damage could this do to his already fragile mind? Will this unlock more memories, as the sight of Bremen's head seemed to, or will he regress? Unresponsive and unwilling to leave his cabin, the others try their best to comfort him. Eventually, Trellan's image appears on an onyx plate inside of the hallway.

“Ahem... I don't mean to interrupt, but we're here..."

“Alright..."

“Come on out, Irzain. Please? We just want to make sure you're alright." Mairlynn calls to him once more.

“I don't think he's going anywhere. Just give him some time." Trellan pleads with them.

Glancing back at the oscillating image, they slowly and silently disperse. Returning to the main deck, the others wait while Trellan finds a space adequate for the Arona-Dahl. Using a few more onyx plates affixed to the outer hull of the ship, the old Vizhek's spirit controls the craft as if it was his own body. They retract the sails, drop the anchors, extend the gangplank, and collect the thick, hemp ropes from the solid stone dock. Tying down the ship, they lock the ropes into the mechanical clamps, just as the door to Trellan's cabin swings open. With a hand on her head, an embarrassed Kirsta emerges. She looks to the others, her alabaster skin flushing and taking on a soft, pink hue.

“Where's Irzain?" She sheepishly asks, looking around for the scribe.

“He's below deck..." Jarae murmurs.

“What for?! Is he alright?!" Kirsta grows increasingly concerned.

“He will be... Eventually." Steingar remarks.

“What's that supposed to mean?!"

“He's finally suffering." Valan replies.

“... What?"

“His lover, the girl he's dreamt about for weeks? We just found her head on a spike." Jarae explains.

“Oh no..."

“Isn't that what you wanted?" Mairlynn snaps.

“I-I, uh... Erm..."

Learning the horrible truth of Naoma's fate, Kirsta's guilt skyrockets. She looks back at the opened hatch, contemplating speaking with him. However, as the others make their way ashore, leaving her behind, she turns to them, sighs, and races to catch up. At the end of the dock, Lutala says her goodbyes to the crew. She shakes their hands, while giving little Mairlynn and Kirsta benign hugs. Reaching Valan, however, he's reluctant to touch her. Pulling her outstretched hand away from him, she bows her head respectfully instead. With that, the Lahnyt makes her way to the nearest charter companies, her sights set on searching for her family.

Perhaps they're still here, hiding in the most diverse city in the Isles, or maybe they've left and someone will remember seeing them? As she disappears around a corner, Draeolynn turns back to Valan. She steps closer to him, her big, cobalt blue eyes looking up at him with longing. He holds out a hand to her, brushing her soft skin with his fingertips. Her smile grows as she glances down. Valan is quite the romantic; he always knows when to touch her and what to say. Taking hold of his hand, she glances back up at him and steps even closer. Jarae narrows her shimmering pink eyes, gritting her teeth. Mairlynn glances over at her, sharing a similar jealousy as the redheaded Falmun steps into Valan's arms, a place that she too would love to be.

“Do you really have to go?" He asks her, whispering into her pointy ear.

“Yes."

“You, uhm... You could always stay."

“Or you could come with me." She swiftly retorts.

Valan pulls back, looking down at the beautiful elf. The slender woman, who appears perpetually held in her late teens, looks so innocently up at him. She leans in, kissing him passionately on the lips.

“You don't have to be with these people. You're smart, and you're capable; you'd make a good Lord, and with all the vasariks I have, that's what we'll be when we reach the mainland. I'd certainly like your company, Val... Please?"

“I... I can't."

“Yes, you can. You aren't obliged to stay with them. As far as we know, you aren't even wanted by the Crown! This might be your last chance!"

“I know, but... But I-"

“Are you going to make me beg? Or would you rather I sweet talk you? Do I need to remind you how handsome and... Big, you are?" She winks, a hand gently groping his manhood through his trousers.

“Drae, I can't leave them. I've lost everything; they're all I have left."

“B-but, what about me?!" She whimpers.

“I'd have you if you'd stay, but I can't leave them in good conscience. These idiots will get themselves killed without me." He smirks.

“That's probably true." She softly giggles.

“I could always protect you."

“No, you couldn't." She chuckles a little harder. “Grow up, Val! They're wanted by the Crown! It's only a matter of time, and you know it. I'd love to stay with you – I'd be your wife and have a dozen of your children – but I didn't join the military. I spent decades under my father's tyranny; I have a life to live now, and I intend to be alive to live it! I can't ever do that staying on a weird ship with a bunch of criminals and a half-crazy scribe, getting into trouble all of the time. I'll take you with me if you want to go, but I'm not staying here, and I'm not staying on that ship either, not with those people, anyway."

Hearing her words, Valan realizes how wrong it was to ask her to stay; the Arona-Dahl is no place for her. Looking back at the others, however, he cannot bear to part with the only people he knows, to follow one woman to the mainland, to a land that neither of them have been to before. Though he doesn't want to abandon Draeolynn, to make her explore a strange world all alone, he doesn't know what else to do. He freezes, looking back at her like a lost and frightened puppy. Though her heart aches, having grown so fond of the human, she manages to flash a faint but genuine smile. Reaching out a hand, she rests it on his face, softly stroking his cheek. Her nails rake through the long strands of his beard, as she leans in to kiss him.

“That's what I thought. I'll miss you, Val. I really, really will, and I hope we meet again someday. I'll send for my chests when I charter a ship."

He's unable to respond as Draeolynn pulls away from him and walks along the stone dock, alone. She takes a few steps, before turning back, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“I'm planning on settling in Ogrodin; I read about it the most, and it sounds nice. If you ever make it to the mainland, look for me."

With a seductive wink and a blown kiss, Draeolynn continues on, leaving him standing by himself on the dock. In the background, Steingar and Kirsta check their weapons, while Mairlynn and Jarae watch the couple separating. Jarae snickers, unable to hide her amusement. She turns her eyes toward Mairlynn, who's been watching her, noting her behavior. Without saying a word, the Jaliscan turns back and calls out to the warriors.

“Are we doing this or not?!"

“Yeah, yeah!"

“Hold your horses!" Kirsta shouts.

“I'll hold them for you, Kirsta, as soon as our stallions get over here." Mairlynn grins, looking between Steingar and Valan.

“You never stop." Steingar chuckles.

“You say that like you want me to, big guy."

“Coming with us?"

“As much as I love brushing up against you, Val, I'll stay here and watch the ship. Maybe get some private time with Irzain." She winks.

“Don't start, Mair. He's grieving." Kirsta remarks.

“What?! I think it might help him! I'm not replacing Naoma or anything; what's the harm in letting him take out all of that energy on me?" She innocently asks, her hands resting over her groin as she slowly spins her body in a childlike manner.

“Let's go." Steingar remarks, sighing and shaking his head.

With Irzain locked inside of his cabin and Mairlynn staying behind of her own volition, the others head inland for supplies. With a coin purse laden with golden vasariks, Steingar and Kirsta are determined to upgrade their weapons and armor. Sticking together for their own safety, as much as to prevent themselves from becoming lost, they leave their ship behind and explore the bustling city just beyond the docks. It doesn't take long before they find everything they're looking for, and all within sight of the harbor.

Jarae and Valan negotiate the prices of food and other supplies at a large market bazaar, only struggling to find the Pitania infused coal that the Arona-Dahl uses to feed her boiler. They'll have to make do without it, for now. Steingar and Kirsta spend an inordinate amount of time in the substantial blacksmith's shop across the street, examining the vast selection of armor and weapons. After considerable thought, Kirsta settles on chainmail, unwilling to sacrifice her mobility for absolute protection. Steingar, however, purchases a breast and back plate, gauntlets, pauldrons, greaves and armored boots, even finding a Helngarian saber made out of the purest of steels.

He doesn't think twice about spending as much as one-thousand vasariks on the gear, to the elation of the blacksmith and his son, an apprentice in the shop. Returning from across the street, after instructing the shopkeepers of where to deliver their new supplies of food, medicine and raw materials, Valan and Jarae find their warrior companions still in the blacksmith's shop. To their surprise, Steingar faces a tailor's mirror, examining himself in his new armor, and wielding the massive saber characteristic to his race.

“How do I look?" He turns to them.

“Like an expensive mercenary." Jarae replies.

“Good! Expensive is always a good thing when it comes to armor... And mercenaries!" He grins.

“You know, you should probably buy armor too, Valan." Kirsta remarks.

“Yeah, and you could use a sword!" Steingar chirps, his eyes lighting up.

“I don't know. I'm not really a 'sword and armor' kind of guy."

“Don't be like that. Come on!"

Steingar grabs Valan's arm and pulls him along, making him stand beside him as he sorts through the armor and weapons. He holds them up against the human as if he where shopping for his clothes or footwear. Kirsta and the blacksmith soon join in, outfitting the reluctant gunman, who looks increasingly uncomfortable as they strap plates of metal to his body. Soon, he's wearing plated boots, shin guards, greaves, a breast and back plate, and chainmail gauntlets, with pauldrons and bracers to protect his arms, all atop a thick, dark purple gambeson. Strapped to his side is a cutlass, with a brass basket designed for a left-handed user; they were all surprised to learn that it's his dominant hand, a trait he unknowingly shares with Jarae.

“There! Now you're a real warrior!" Steingar exclaims, looking over the armor-clad Valan.

“I feel like a statue..."

“That means it's working. Pay the man and let's go!"

“Wha-?!"

Glancing toward the blacksmith and his teenage son, the older man extends a hand, a little smirk on his face. He wiggles his fingers, eager to see their coin. Valan sighs and hangs his head, before digging his fingers into his own coin purse.

“Fine..." Valan grumbles.

After paying the blacksmith a hefty sum, the group marches out of the shop, their new gear gleaming in the fading sunlight. Only Jarae refused to buy anything, consistently hoarding her personal stash of vasariks. They attract considerable attention as they march back to the docks, especially the Helngar. With his glistening armor and trademark Helngarian saber hanging from his side, a wholly unique blade designed after the ancestral weapon from their homeland of Ledagora, he stands out like a sore thumb. Realizing this, they jog in their armor to the Arona-Dahl. Valan quickly becomes winded.

“Come on, Val! This isn't even an exercise in the military!" Steingar remarks, jogging in his armor as if it weighed nothing.

“I'm not... A soldier..." Valan speaks between panting for oxygen.

“So? You're a man, and every man is a soldier! You are a man, aren't you? Or are you a little boy, with spindly arms and legs?"

“This is... Your fault... I'm not used... To wearing this... Shit..."

“Thanks for clarifying. Now, shut up and build those muscles, boy!"

As Valan struggles to keep up, weaving slightly from side to side and his pace slowing, Jarae reaches out for him. Grabbing his armor, she helps steady him as he wobbles. He turns to her, flashing her a warm smile. She can't help herself and returns it. Finally reaching the docks, they slow their pace as they find Mairlynn on the main deck. She watches a pair of burly human men, her arms crossed before her small bust as she leans against the railing. They struggle with the heaviest of Draeolynn's chests, barely able to carry it across the gangplank before loading it onto a cart pulled by a donkey. Her other two chests are already in the back of the cart.

As they pass her, Mairlynn says something to the men that makes Steingar and Jarae snicker, and the worker's faces flush. Walking casually along the stone dock, they pass the two workers and their donkey.

“Wow, that was a weird one."

“Yeah. Thank the Seraphs, we're off that ship."

“I think that little girl wanted to have sex with us!"

Valan's amusement changes in a matter of moments as the workers take the donkey to another ship at the far end of the dock. He pauses, watching from a distance as Draeolynn, unaware of his gaze, instructs the men to take the chests below deck. That must be her chartered ship. The others can see the conflict in his heart. A part of him truly wishes to join her, but his loyalty to the only people he knows is unshakable. As elated as she is to know that the redheaded Falmun will soon be gone for good, Jarae cannot help but feel simultaneously sorry for Valan and jealous of Draeolynn. However, unable to bring herself to speak to him about it, she merely heads below deck. Steingar approaches Valan.

“Hey..." He pats him on an armor-plated shoulder, the plates clanking together. “You kept up. I think you've earned a rest. Let's get you out of that armor."

“Okay..." Valan murmurs.

“Good idea. I think we were attracting too much attention with it on, anyway. Might be best to leave it in our rooms until we need it." Kirsta remarks.

“I'll help you studs peel out of that stuff!" Mairlynn coos. “But you're on your own, Kirsta."

Returning to their rooms, Steingar helps Valan out of his armor, before the human returns the favor, while a disappointed Mairlynn watches in the background. Once again in their regular clothes, the Helngar suggests they go back ashore to find a tavern. Irzain remains in his room, never making a sound. Surprisingly, neither Mairlynn nor Jarae are keen to go ashore either, preferring to stay behind and wait for Irzain to emerge. Steingar, Kirsta and Valan are left to explore the capital city on their own. They travel unarmored and unarmed, hoping to maintain a low profile.

Walking along the docks, Valan shifts his eyes, glancing toward the ship that Draeolynn had boarded. It's gone. A sadness creeps into him, inching toward his heart. After a short hike, they find a grand tavern, built of both stone and wood. They enter the multi-story structure, finding it filled with patrons of varying races. An empty table, one of the few available, is quickly claimed by Steingar and Kirsta, while Valan buys their drinks at the bar. Steingar takes a seat, glancing over to Valan. He pauses as he watches the human. While collecting their drinks, an attractive Helngar woman, with rust colored fur and cream tiger stripes, leans over and whispers something to him.

“Thanks. That's a generous offer, but I'm with people, and they're expecting me." Valan says as he flushes and shakes his head.

“That's too bad. If you change your mind..."

She leans closer and licks his cheek with her long, pointed tongue. Valan flushes, his eyes growing wide with shock. Steingar grumbles, narrowing his glowing, golden eyes as he watches and listens from across the room.

“Are you alright?" Kirsta asks, noting the change in his expression.

“Hm? Oh... Yeah, I'm fine." He grumbles.

Returning with their drinks, Valan takes a seat. His back faces the rust and cream striped Helngar woman, who's glowing, white eyes regularly glance over to him. This only serves to upset Steingar, who cannot help but dislike the attention that the long-haired, bearded human gets from women, especially when they're from Steingar's superior race. Sitting quietly in the tavern, Steingar inhales his drink. Throwing his head back, he chugs his mug of ale, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. No sooner than it's gone, he rises from his seat and heads for the bar.

As he places his order, he finds it irritating that the rust and cream striped Helngar woman whom he stands beside pays him no attention. Did she even glance at him once? Every time he looks to her, she's still staring intently at Valan, who's otherwise unaware. Returning only moments later to the table where his companions wait for him, he holds another six mugs, three in each hand. Kirsta and Valan are both surprised when Steingar hoards the mugs, having purchases all of the drinks for himself.

With a little scowl, Kirsta shakes her head. Steingar sighs as he slams down mug after empty mug. Soon, the patrons in the tavern begin to leave, returning to their homes and rented rooms. The rust and cream striped Helngar woman passes by their table, waving at Valan as she heads for the front door.

“Maybe next time." She coos.

“Maybe." He politely replies, smiling at her.

Kirsta raises a brow and turns to Valan, who flushes and shrugs his shoulders, playing it off. Steingar silently snarls and promptly chugs another age. Slamming down a his fifth out of seven drinks, he sways slightly as he sits in his stationary chair. Kirsta can't help but notice how intoxicated he's becoming, a worried look on her face as she turns toward the two-tone, grey and burnt orange Helngar.

“What?" He slowly turns to her, his eyes blinking out of sync with each other.

“Nothing..." She murmurs, her sapphire eyes scanning the emptying room.

“It's never 'nothing' with you. What's your problem this time?!" He speaks with increasing volume.

“You're just... Hitting the alcohol a little hard." She replies.

“Yeah, I've noticed that, too." Valan interjects.

“So?!"

“So, maybe you should give it a rest?" Kirsta suggests.

“You're not my mother! Let me spend my time and coin the way I want to!" He shouts, attracting the attention of a few patrons.

“Maybe it's just not a good idea?" Valan calmly interjects. “I mean, all things considered, this isn't the safest place to-"

“Don't lecture me on bad ideas! You're the one who let that tasty elf leave you!"

Steingar speaks loudly, attracting even more attention. Kirsta's eyes widen and her brow furls with anger and frustration. She tries to clandestinely scan the room, but is unnerved by the number of patrons now staring at them.

“... I chose to stay. To be with the crew." Valan answers.

“You mean to be with Jarae?!" Steingar smirks.

“I don't know what you're talking about..."

The drunken Helngar hiccups as he slumps back in his chair.

“Yes, you do! You two should just have sex already and get it over with!" He continues, slurring his words.

“This isn't about me and any relationship you think I have with Jarae." Valan growls, growing angry.

“Maybe we should have this conversation quieter, or somewhere else?" Kirsta turns back to them, speaking in a low voice.

“Oh, shut up! I'll have any conversation anywhere I want! ... I'm a bloodforge, you know! ... You two should just leave me alone; go find a back room and entertain yourselves for a few minutes!"

“... Excuse me?!" She angrily growls, narrowing her vivid blue eyes.

“At least that way you'll be out of my fur! I mean, you're the only woman he hasn't screwed yet! Might as well give the pretty boy a perfect score!" Steingar laughs.

“Asshole..."

Taking a final swig of her ale, Kirsta slams the empty mug atop the table. She rises from her seat so quickly that the chair slides back. She looks ready to fight the Helngar. This draws even more attention. Valan looks nervously around the room, but he turns back to Kirsta as she takes a few steps away. Growing concerned, he reaches out and grabs her wrist. She pauses and turns back to Valan, her expression softening.

“Woah, where're you going?" He quietly asks.

“I'm taking a walk. I need some air. It reeks of booze in here..." She glances at the swaying Steingar.

“And you're just going to leave me here with him?"

Kirsta's gaze shifts between the unnerved Valan and the drunk Steingar. Her eyes narrow and she pulls her forearm from Valan's grasp.

“... I don't care what you do. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself... I'll see you later, Val." She grumbles.

“Bye-bye!" Steingar says, struggling to subdue another hiccup.

Making her way toward the front door, the blond-haired, buxom woman disappears into the night. Valan turns back to Steingar, feeling increasingly anxious. The feeling of powerlessness begins to creep back into him. It's the very same feeling he has after waking up from every nightmare about his drugging and rape at the hands of Indana and Cicera, the cultist Lanhyt women. It's the same feeling that he initially treated by having sex with Draeolynn. It's why they slept together as often as they did, not just because Draeolynn, formerly a virgin, loved the feeling of being with him, but because, in that moment, the feeling of being out of control had left him.

“Don't you think that maybe we should follow her?" Valan finally asks his companion.

“Why?" Steingar asks, struggling to lift his sixth mug of ale.

“Why?! ... Because she's walking out into the night, alone. She's a beautiful woman, and this is the capital city. I mean, what if-"

“Nothing's going to happen to her! She almost fought us both off earlier, remember! If I had to go one-on-one, she might actually be a challenge, unlike you, pretty boy!"

“What's your problem?!"

“Oh, you know the problem! Save some for the rest of us!"

As Steingar begins chugging his sixth mug, Valan cocks his head, thoroughly confused by his accusation. The Helngar pauses, unable to finish his drink in his increasingly intoxicated condition. Valan shakes his head and lets out a frustrated sigh, before looking around the room. They've ceased to be entertaining to the remaining patrons, with a notable exception. Sitting at the far end of the bar are two women. At a glance they appear human or Falmun, but as he looks closer, they're drastically different. Valan hasn't seen anything like them before, and finds himself drawn to the exotic women. He feels an urge, the same urge that made him enjoy Draeolynn.

Gulping as his temperature rises, he looks back at Steingar. The Helngar attempts to lift his seventh mug, giving Valan the most unpleasant of stares. He'd finally finished his sixth. Turning back toward the bar, the two women stare at him with narrowed, lustful gazes. It's a scene now all too familiar to the long-haired human; the rust and cream striped Helngar woman gave him the same look. For a moment, he thinks that maybe he should've accepted her offer and joined her at her home for a night spontaneous, no-strings-attached sex. Valan likes all women, and she was certainly an attractive specimen, but now she's left, and these exotic women are still here.

He narrows his blue-green eyes in turn and watches the two women, scanning their forms, which are considerable. Both are slender but well-built creatures. Long, toned legs are void of absolutely all body hair, though this appears to be natural. Their lightly tanned skinned glistens in the tavern's lamplight. Broad hips lead to slim waists and relatively flat bellies, which are proudly displayed by their sparse, fabric tops, which cover only their feminine mounds. The bust of the woman with short, naturally ashen hair, is a plump but modest C-cup; she has large handfuls.

Her companion, whose hair is the color of a wheat field at harvest time, has smaller breasts; a full B-cup to be certain. Leaning back, the women show off their forms to the observant human. They cross and uncross their legs, bouncing their little feet while their Jaliscan-like tails sway so gracefully behind their perfect buttocks, silently beckoning to him. However, while their bodies are more than desirable, what he finds the most intriguing is their faces. These women do not have human or elven faces, yet they aren't quite Jaliscan either; they're hybrids.

A very stubby snout protrudes from each woman's face, extending between one and two inches further than either a human or Falmun jaw would. What would normally be the tip of their human or elven nose is flattened, sitting atop their little snouts like a cat's. Slender, slanted nostrils flare subtly as they breathe. Atop their heads are tall, perky ears, shaped like a capital 'A'. Covered only in matching, lightly tanned flesh, these 5-inch-tall ears sit in the same place as they do on a Jaliscan's head; toward the back of the skull and on either side.

These, however, are several inches shorter than the large, perky ears of their Jaliscan parents. Interestingly, they have no visible fur anywhere on their bodies, and especially not on their faces. With their outfits as revealing as they are, Valan can't help but wonder if their womanhood is equally bare, or covered with soft hair or fur, as it is for the races of their parents. Both half breed women watch Valan with little grins as he abruptly leaves his table. They're smiles widen as he approaches them. Steingar is too drunk to notice that he's now sitting alone.

“Hello. I'm Valan." He speaks confidently to the women.

“Mmm-that's a sexy name. I'm Sarana." The wheat-haired woman speaks sweetly, her medium-blue eyes looking up at him.

“And I'm Ashana." The ashen haired woman coos, her tail swaying and chocolate eyes scanning his form.

“Fitting!" He chirps, looking at her hair.

Finally realizing that he's alone, Steingar looks for Valan. He snarls to himself as he watches the human chatting with the hybrid women. After a moment, the women both flush. Valan points a finger between them, smiling and continuing to speak confidently. The girls giggle. They look towards each other and then back at Valan, before abruptly leaning in and kissing each other. They kiss with tongues, right there at the bar and with Valan watching, to Steingar's shock.

“What the..." He chokes out.

Valan promptly motions to the women, and they quickly stop kissing. They slide off of their barstools and straighten their short skirts while Valan drapes an arm over each girl, leading them to a room down the hall. One of the women retrieves a room key from her tightly fitting top, pulling it from between her breasts. Valan smacks their asses as he takes them down the hall, making them giggle, grab his arms and pull him along. They're just as eager as he is, if not more-so.

“Well, it was only a matter of time... Two more for him, and zero for me..." Steingar sighs. “Barkeep!" He shouts, raising his empty mug.

Chugging yet another ale, Steingar's head begins to spin. Slamming down the empty pewter mug, it bangs loudly on the table. He slumps forward, falling against the table, his head thumping against the wood and rattling the many mugs strewn atop it. A Falmun at the bar turns toward his companion, reaching out and tapping the Helngar's bicep.

“Hey... Is that him?"

“I don't th-... Wait... By the Seraphs, it is!" The Helngar gasps.

“Shh! Not so loud..."

“I don't think he's sober enough to hear us, or care." The woman chuckles.

“Think we can take him, babe?" The Falmun grins.

“We've taken bigger, lover." The Helngar coos.

“Well, I know you have." The Falmun winks at her.

“Hehe. That's for sure, stud. Let's do it."

The elf flashes his companion a sinister grin. They've done this plenty of times, and to people not nearly as intoxicated. He nods at the Helngar woman, who nods back. They lean in and share a passionate kiss, their ritual before claiming a bounty. However, both are startled when Steinger bolts upright in his chair, flipping it over. It thumps on the floor and Steingar struggles to maintain his balance. He stumbles toward the counter, looking for the barkeep. Clumsily raising a hand, he falls against the counter, standing right beside the Helngar woman and her Falmun lover. The bounty hunters glance toward each other, shrug their shoulders and then turn back to the drunk Helngar.

“Barkeh-... Barkeep..." Steingar struggles to speak through his hiccups. “Ihneeeddannnothhhh..."

“Uh..." The barkeep pauses.

“Hey."

Steingar turns toward the sound of the voice, turning his whole body and not just his head. Leaning against the counter, her elbow on the wood and hand supporting her chin, the Helngar woman smiles pleasantly at him.

“Looks like someone could use a nice, warm bed to sleep in." She coos.

“Heh... Rrryaofffrrin?" He slurs his words.

She blinks and lifts her head, her glowing, yellow eyes widening in surprise at the startling level of his intoxication. She looks over her shoulder, turning her eyes down to her Falmun lover.

“Oh yeah... This'll be easy." She giggles.

“Immmallwayseeezzzzy, baybuh..."

“Let's get you home." She says, sliding an arm around Steingar.

“Come on, buddy. No more nights out, not after a breakup!" The Falmun adds, taking the other side and putting on a show for the barkeep.

The barkeep watches in silence as the pair lead the drunk Steingar from the tavern, whisking him into the darkness of the night. Meanwhile, Kirsta walks the city streets, making her way back toward the tavern. Though her anger at Steingar has subsided, her frustration has not. Walking along a narrow street that runs behind the tavern and between several workshops, she approaches a corner. She pauses, however, when she passes a window. Taking a few steps back, she peers through the window, peeking into the dimly lit room. Her eyes grow wide in shock as she sees something she's never seen before.

Two half breed women, both clearly hybrids between a Jaliscan and a human or Falmun, lay atop a bed together. One woman, who has ashen hair and deep brown eyes, is on her hands and knees, looming over the other woman, who has wheat-colored hair and blue eyes. The woman with wheat hair lies flat on her back. They're both naked, their breasts pressed together as they kiss each other quite passionately. They're both drenched in sweat. However, what's most shocking to Kirsta is what's beyond the women. Standing behind them, equally naked, his hands on the ashen woman's waist as he sways his hips, Valan pleasures one of the girls.

The way the woman with ashen hair squeals into her kisses, Kirsta knows that she's the one enjoying Valan's substantial manhood. Suddenly, the woman throws her head back and shrieks, her muffled voice coming through the thick glass of the closed window. She's just orgasmed. Giving her sweaty buttocks a smack, Valan grins sinisterly and makes a remark that causes the quivering woman to flush. He pulls back, spreads his legs a little more and moves closer, his manhood obscured from Kirsta's view by the women's glistening bodies. Suddenly, the wheat-haired woman gasps and claws at her friend's back. She cries out as Valan begins to enjoy her loins as well.

A fire burns within Kirsta's body as she watches the carnal act. For a moment, she wishes she could see them from a different angle. Valan's debauchery is less and less disgusting to her, and she even finds herself desiring to join them, to her shock. Startled, even horrified by these thoughts, she shakes her head. However, as the women squeal and writhe atop the bed, enjoying all of the pleasures that the well-endowed human can give them, the heat in Kirsta's womanhood does not dissipate. If anything, it burns hotter and hotter. Soon, she can feel the moisture, and her toned legs tremble. She makes an effort to remain standing as her knees try to buckle.

“Rrrr-that's it! I can't deal with this anymore!" She snarls.

Storming out of the alley, she makes her way back inside of the tavern. A brief glance reveals that it's mostly empty. Steingar is gone, likely in bed with a woman and enjoying what Kirsta wishes she could. She looks around the room, scanning the various men who're still present. One of them catches her eye. With shoulder length, dark brown hair that's pulled into a ponytail, a tall man with burly arms and a stocky build drinks some ale. He sits alone, wearing a humble outfit. He looks like he'd spent all day splitting logs or tilling a field with his own, powerful muscles. Kirsta's lips curl into a sinister grin. She approaches the man, leaning against the bar and standing beside him.

“Hello there, Mister." She coos.

He turns in his seat, facing the buxom woman. He's visibly surprised to see such a beautiful creature, but Kirsta is even more surprised. This man could be Luvel's twin brother!

“Hi... What's a pretty thing like you doing out here so late at night?" He asks.

She's taken aback. He even sounds like Luvel!

“Just looking for something..." She finally answers.

“Oh?" He grins.

“Yeah... And I think I've finally found it." She grins, her sapphire eyes hungrily looking him over.