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    The darkness of alleyways and narrow city streets wrapped to her as she headed home ., but for the full moon these passages would have been near impassible to navigate. Even in the bright light of the moons glow, she walked with trepidation, fear lingering since the killings had occurred only under such conditions. She would not have dared to make such journey, but for the growing  fever of the child,…her fear the daughter would not have lasted till daybreak unless the soothing herbs from the apothecary could be gained. Now with them, she rushed the streets  praying it not too late.

    The gnawing sensation of being watched, raised the hairs of fear… the sounds of movement ever present behind her. Try as she wanted she sensed something there, stalking, close but hidden in those shadows

    The sudden crash of crates made her turn,.. the onrushing blackness huge,  growling as it pounced from the darkness, freezing her in fear… that bottomless grip of doom crashing on her. Jaws of death seemed imminent to tear at her, the clawed digits reaching…

    Then a second shadow streaking by,… colliding, the impact sending both tumbling, crashing into the near crates.  They rose in a flash,… bodies bent unnatural,. The elongated snouts, yellow eyes burning in the moonlight. Canine features which struck dread into her as she backed to the building walls, trembling,..soiling herself with fear of recognition..


    One hissing, snarling, the bared fangs dripping with salvia,.. wild,..eyes darting onto her with anticipation of flesh. The other moving with purpose, measuring its antagonist,.. circling slow until its yellow eyes marked with cognitive intelligence, glanced to her,.. the deformed lips pulling back exposing razor sharp canines,.. a growl,.. almost human like,.. the sound a twisted command directed to her. In Fear she was oblivious to it.

    It growled again,.. the tone underlined with emotion…a stern command, the action enough to cut the ties of her panicked sense. Her mind shaken, deluded seemingly, by the sudden cognition this creature might actually be directing words towards her. She stared hard at the werewolf, it’s eyes barely moving from the vicious snarling creature before it,…the sounds clearly underlined by frustration and impatience as it growled,.. the word barely understandable…but clear enough…


    Pressing to the wall she slid slow, then darted into the street, her legs churning in desperation, daring a glance back to see her flight had not gone unnoticed. The harsh bark clear enough her attacker found her movement of flight distracting. Turning in hesitation, it posed to pounce…  the moment enough as she saw the one who had crudely spoken leaped now attack sinking his fangs into the wild creature.

    Her screams ripped through the stillness of the night as she fled,.. heart racing gripped in fear. Eyes focused only on the flight path ahead, the sounds  crashes,…growls,. .yelps and howls erupting, the violence of a brutal fight echoing through the narrow streets of city. Never looking back she was almost to the door of her home, her legs burning with fatigue, breaths short,…when she heard it,…a singular baying howl of triumph that rose through the city streets.


    “And this scar?” she asked he lips kissing soft along the edge of the white marks along my shoulder.

    “Howler wolves…”, I replied, the well rehearsed lie slipping easily from me. Should I tell the truth I would not have imagined her willing to share my bed.

    She dipped lower,..kissing slow over the scars of claw marks on my chest…”and these?…”

    “A mountain cat,..” , I answered choosing another lie shortened by a sharp gasp as her tongue danced below,.. rolling around my nipple .  She caught my reaction,.. glancing up,..reaching with fingertips to trace the thin scar along my cheek…

    “and this?…”

    My lips drew in a smirk, not every scar had an exotic tale to it. “Bar fight in Fort Wilderness.”

    “Oh, my a bad boy are we,?”.. Her tone half teasing as her lips drifted off to another scar, her tongue and lips tracing slow across my skin. What is it of woman and scars?

    I smiled, of any of the scars, that one was the result of attitude. If anything, the taint held to predictable patterns of behavior. The aggressive apprehension before the change,.. prone to violence, and anger, the lust filled need of contact which drove me after. Both carried by the heightened sense of awareness, the clear sharpening of all the senses. It’s what made sex so addicting after the change,.. the amplification of the senses. The smell of her desire filled my lungs,. The brush of her tongue and kisses on my skin, mind twisting of effect. The sound of her heart, racing with want,…pressed to the edge of anticipation. My lips smacked with the taste of her scent lingering in the air…. wild,…erotic I needed no other sign of how wanting and willing she had already become.

    It was the sex however fleeting that momentarily gave me reprieve,  that helped me forget what I was,.. consoled the wound to my soul of the events which had led me here.

    The half breed that I was, part elf and part human, marked me as an outcast.  An aberration to both races, the elves looking on me as defective, be they polite, the stoic reserve of judgment ever present. Humans were more belligerent of attitude, their racist guard clearly evident,…though the women more likely to bed me, looking at me as some form of exotic dallying, human enough to warrant crossing the lines in lust, in experimentation. But even those numbers were few.

    My human mother  had bore me late in her life, the birth too taxing, taking her from the world, leaving me to be raised by my elven father. He found himself straddled not only with infant, but of the biased attitudes casted at his newborn. Neither Elve or human  society appeared willing to accept the child, and the wise creature he was, he retreated into the woods,.. rearing me,.. teaching me of the craft of his people and the lore of the woods. Those were years of wonder for me countless for though human, I age slowly. He taught me to handle a bow, a knife, the only weapons he emphasized I would ever need in that land.

    Perhaps, true I doubt that any weapon other than enchanted could have saved him that night when the lycan descended on our camp. The scars on my shoulder a testament to when it drug me from my bedroll, ready to tear at me before my father leaped to the defense. Instead it attention to him, tore into him and my meager efforts to aide met with brutal vicious rebuke. A crushing blow, casting me easily aside,.. the creature taking taking it’s toll on my father instead.

    I laid there broken of body for days dying with the torn remnants of my father close at hand.

    Why she did what she did I never knew, but the woodland nymph who found me close to death the following days, intervened. Though never seen my father always acknowledged her presence in those woods,.. the small gifts of flowered boughs,.. perhaps touched her.  She breathed life back into my battered body,…found the plague of the taint on me, knowing she could not cure,… she used her magic, tapped the roots of elven blood, twisted it into something,.. more tolerable, the attributes of a shapeshifter.

    In the following years she continued to rear me, but not motherly,.. but tolerant,.. caring,.. she mentored me. Taught me how to connect to the forest creatures, bind to their souls, and with that the understanding and ability live and breath in that form. It was her gift,.. her ability to change form at will. The countless days at we played as squirrels in the trees,.. the leisurely stroll as a great stag and cow,…the stalking as mountain cat of intruders, and the occasional scare we threw to belligerent interlopers in the form of enraged great bears.

    At least until the moon filled full,.. then the curse of the taint held,.. I was locked to one form,.. that of the werewolf. Her gift made it manageable… the curse undermined to the extent I was still in control. Thinking, rational,.. not a servant to the primal predatory drive that the disease gave to others. I lived as I always did, only condemned to the pattern of that horrific shape. While  in such form she would come,.. lie with me,.. hold me, the soft touch of her spirit always tempering the edge of the change.

    When manhood finally arrived, she took me as her lover, coming to me in the still of that first night, her beauty radiant as she slipped the translucent gown she wore from her and taught me of the ways of pleasure, intimacy with a woman.

    Timeless… decades passed, and somewhere I must have touched her soul, rose the emotion of love, for she told me her name. Gave me that power… Aldaris…


    What man could ask for more, the idyllic life in the woods, in love…life was a continuous stream of bliss.

    Until the time the taint came upon me,.. and while in recluse they came. I could sense the foul corruption, of orc, and demon..  it filled the woods. Bound to the lycan form that first night I waited for her,.. but she never came,.. so I set to find her, fearful or the intruders. Orcs were of little consequence but the demon spawn a different matter.  My heart crushed, torn asunder when I finally found her, strapped to the stump of a log. Used,.. tortured by the foul hands which had carved her in brutal precision…my love dead. The scent of the demons handiwork, everywhere.

    Enraged I set the hunt, disregarding that whatever had the power to overcome her magic could easily overcome me. I wanted my vengeance. The lycan form held, even after the passing of the full moon, anger filled my soul, demanding retribution. Oh, I found the orcs… the hundred some no match for the hunt that befell them. I picked them apart through the following days, one by one, tracking them through the woods. They tried to hunt me,.. even using their hellhound in a futile effort. Sometimes darting in,…I wrecked havoc to their lines.. disappearing into the woods as a blood soaked apparition.  I had become ever terrorizing them. Until but one, their leader and his pet hellhound remained.

    My fingers traced the scar on my chest. Hellhounds put up a good fight.

    Only the demon remains… he had long vanished from their ranks. This one I seek,…the name gained not thru the orcs I killed, but the brief binding to the hellhound before I killed it… Zierst.

    I left those woods so many years ago to travel the lands seeking information. Perhaps because of my twisted history, the eradication of the corruption of the tainted  lycans became my obsession along the way.  I hold lycans in contempt,…mindless killers, capable of a corruption upon the innocent about them. There are a few who have the control, endure the affliction with purposed will and dedicated precaution… those I cautiously spare,…but the predators…those stalkers of the full moon,… none should suffer such a curse, if I can relieve the burden, eradicate,  I  do so sparing no regrets.

    No lycan had brought me to this city,  I had come for a different purpose. Tto find the one who holds a key of knowledge to my quest…a sage.

    My thoughts evaporate under the stroke of her tongue at another scar.

    “Hmmm,.. one part remains unscathed,.. are you going to ignore it completely?” I speak,  her attention has reared the flames within me

    She glances up, eyes sparkling of delight, the wicked smile crossing her face, as she slides down gripping my manhood in her hands.  Kissing it softly along the rim,…as she speaks, “In no way would I ignore this.”

    Her lip part pulling over the rim, smack before they reach again across my crown, dragging further over my broad cap, until they wrap around it. She sucks upon the head slowly. Her tongue slowly stroking the crown,… playfully teasing the rim of the slit. I am where I want to be, lost to the delicious sensation of her attention.

    Stroking my shaft slowly, she abandons the cap and runs her lips and tongue slips further down onto my shaft. Licking and sucking along its measure of length, then returns to the crown running that tongue along the rim, before creating a soft bed for my cock as she slides my cock into her mouth. She works my girth within the suction of her lips, … bobbing slow, before  pulling  it free as she pauses to  take a deep breath,.. Again she licks slow along the shaft, then kissing slowly my tightened masthead as she works back up, ….collecting herself before descending again. Pressing me into her throat,.. bobbing, sucking,…rising gasping,..

    my sharpened senses are overwhelmed by the scent of her want as it fills my lungs, her  heat pressing me to mad lust.

    By the gods I can stand it no more,… when she rises gasping for air , , I roll her quick to her back, my kisses falling wildly on her lips, as I press my hips forward. my cock hungrily finds the  wet gate of her need and passion. I take her, letting myself yield to primal needs to fuck.

    These are the  fleeting moments…when the pain on my tarnished soul is momentarily lost.


    I hated crowds, the decades of my solitary life with Aldaris had little prepared me for the journey I had been on. The rush on my senses always overloaded ears filled with the swarm of heartbeats, the smell of conflicting scents from the people about. At least the biased worked in my favor. Seeing a half breed, people unconsciously took that extra measure of step to avoid contact… my path always slightly wider then others might encounter. The bulk of my frame was human, but the shape of the pointed ears jutting from the braids of my silver streaked hair, the piercing blue almond shaped eyes clearly defined the mixed race.  All was well, the library of Lidibinis was my goal.

    My partner had performed well, tempered the lust filled needs for the moment, which gave me some clarity to this day. Easily aroused she had succumbed to my driving needs,.. several times. Finally pleading departure, she left wobbling,.. sore from serving as my fuck toy for hours, but had manage to dull the edge of the lust driven need that ate at me.

    Enough, that I focus as I traversed the swarm of the market place. The whispers I picked from the crowd showed the continuing of concerning  the body found in an alley the prior day, another victim of the speculated lycan. It was pretty clear that the authorities had not freely acknowledged this. The brutality of the attacks, the timing, certainly gave credence to the rumors circulating Such news would certainly have dampened the ensuing celebration ahead. Some sort of festival,…, of which I had little interest in.  My purpose here singular, speak with Xegis the Wise,.. and see if he could enlighten me of the demon I sought.

    Following the directions given by my innkeeper, I found the library easy enough, a rather unimposing building set in the religious district of the city. Compared to the temples and shrines which rose around it, the building looked to be an ignored step child of neglect. Not surprising the city itself bore a reputation of more sensual indulgences. That Xegis should reside here suggested something of his own dalliances. I climbed the few steps entering into the dull lite chamber,  The handful of scribes absorbed in their work paid scant attention to me,.. but for one whose attention was clearly fixed on my intrusion.

    He rose, measuring my plain appearance. I wore nothing impressive, the plain loose fitting leather shirt and breeches…clean, but spotted with marks of my journeys, my  boots worn and tired looking. The singular knife sheathed on my belt and  staff hardly threatening.

    “What business do you have here?” he demanded, the voice sharp and quick.

    I let the sharp inquiry fall flat,  choosing not to answer immediate. Measuring him no different than a barking dog, as my eyes wandered, letting him know his stance and position irrelevant as I took in the surroundings. Then glanced to him,, answering in a even soothing tone.

    “I seek audience with Xegis. Does he still reside here?” I could sense the stiffening attitude and reluctance to answer. He merely nodded, speaking quietly for me to wait as he turned quick on his heel, moving across the room towards the large door holding the valued archives of manuscripts. He didn’t enter, turning instead at the wall towards a stairwell, disappearing as climbed up, no doubt to private chambers housed on the higher floor.

    The man who descended with him hardly of what I expected, tall, fair featured with a short well trimmed beard. He approached with authoritative confidence, the underling overlord of the scribes slipping back to his desk, apparently passing me off to his companion. We stood there briefly, he measuring me as I did him.

    “Xegis?” I asked, apparently introductions were beyond this one’s manners.

    He shook his head, “No, I am afraid Caduceus, second scribe of the Library of Lidibinis.  Xegis no longer offers counsel here. Perhaps I may help you.”

    My eyebrow arched in surprise, second scribe, he looked far too young to hold such a position. There were far older men present in these chambers, more inclined to hold such a title. He was either extremely bright or…

    I pressed, I had come too far to meet rebuke.  “Only if you are well versed in the knowledge of demonology? Otherwise I must speak to Xegis”

    “No,…and no” he spoke, the second a retorting stand. He pressed a hand to my shoulder, no doubt an urging anticipation for me to leave. “Xegis is old, of bad health.. he no longer has the mind to answer or recollect anything at all. And no one here has the expertise on what you seek”

    I can smell a lie, literally. The tensing of the body, dilation of the eyes, quicken pulse, not to discount the undeniable change in scent. He was lying. At what level I could not discern. The mark of a true scribe of sages lies in a knowledge that of their lack thereof a topic, is supplemented by at least knowing who to speak to, who might have that knowledge. He offered no suggestion as he ushered me from the scribroium.

    As I stood on the front step of the library, paying scant attention to Caduceus smug sense of success as he reentered the building, my eyes glancing up to the open windows of the upper floors airing the heat from the rooms.

    There were other ways to gain access.

    I found a thick cluster of shrubs along the side of the building, slipped behind them unseen, pulling the  leather shirt from me as my mind reached  for memories. Lifting as I bound,.. my remaining clothes falling free,.. the swirling rush of the meld, the momentary confusion as my mind and physical shape adapted, reconnecting…and  lifted into flight. A crow rising from the bushes would hardly be suspect, and though an awkward shape, one I had never truly mastered,.. I held enough control to rise to the second story, flap hovering,..from window to window…until I found what I suspected my goal.

    The old man sat at his desk,.. the disarray piles of books, scrolls surrounding him in ,..his attention focused on the manuscript,…withered hands flipping the pages slowly.. I flew forward,.. entering the room, releasing the binds of the shape,..the shimmering blur surrounding me as I step forward easily. Manifesting back into my human form as his eyes darted up, a measured gazed to my naked form standing before him.

    I was confused, my senses finding no rush of excited heartbeat,… just a vacant stare. His challenge equally puzzling as he spoke nonchalantly.

    “Did you bring my soup?”


    My thoughts were warped, for the moment. How would I have reacted if a naked man suddenly appears in your room…

    “Xegis?”  My probing uncertain, the hope this was not the man I had sought . His head tilted, nodding …but the words underlined different thoughts

    “You never bring soup anymore” the tinge of disappointment marked on his words.

    Xegis the wise,… my mind was twisted on its irony. I moved slowly rounding the desk,.. his eyes following me with that blank look. I had seen such before in the human elders,.., the look of a mind lost, when age grips the mind in cloud. His attention refocused on the book before him as I cleared a spot on the edge of his desk, sitting there and watching. He turned the pages slowly, yet I doubted he was grasping anything before him.

    “You know I love my soup, but you never bring it anymore.”

    I spoke softly. “I, know, Xegis,”… his attention set yet on the mindless turning of pages. “Xegis,…look at me.”

    The blank stare turned to me. In that the wave of disappointment which I felt shattered me. I had come so far,.. carrying that weight of hope, that someone could give a thread of knowledge of the one  I  hunted.
    “Did you bring my soup? It is lunchtime”

    “No soup Xegis, I’ll bring you soup if you like, but tell me… does the name Zierst mean anything to you?”  He didn’t answer, but the vacant eyes went cold. A subtle glimmer of recognition, as he looked away. I suspected the knowledge did lay within, trapped  within the a confused tangles of his mind.  Reached out, my broad calloused hand gently cupping his face, holding him steady as I locked my eyes to his. Aldaris had said I could bind with any living creature, and in that binding a small measure of the creatures knowledge was possible to access. I had done so with the hellhound, but the minds of the higher forms were darting, quick, confusing, and  finding a seam of a thread of the core physical memory, the primal patterns that are our makeup, stable enough to grasp and weave a connection nearly impossible.

    It seemed worth a try. This one appeared a simpleton now,…the din of his thought patterns perhaps subdued enough to warrant a try.  I pulled from my core of her gift,.. reaching from my mind to his, peeling back the layers slowly until I found a barrier, the milky sheen of a binding wrapped within his mind. It was like a cataract on the thoughts. A blinding barrier, which I pressed through, feeling it yield and wrap about my touch piercing below. Then it hit me as a wave of thoughts burst through the  dam upon me. The surge a buckling crush unto my own mind of disjointed thoughts feeding through that conduit.  I tensed, his thoughts piercing into my mind, probing, reading…my heart pumping wild, I severed the connection, staggering as I collapsed to the floor, stunned that through the connection he could pull knowledge from me, it sent a shiver through my soul. Dazed as I heard the voice of Xegis speak,…his words a struggle.

    “Roseshackle, …Shapeshifter,… walk from this,… Zierst, the harvester, …the collector,… bound to Faule and the ceremony of fire… killed your friend he has”,.. magical,… killed the corporeal perhaps,.. the spirit of the magic cannot be destroyed,.. manipulated, .. twisted, … never destroyed. A prize to command… a pet, companion she would become…, find the…”

    His voice trailed of to a murmur, something more lingered in his words, lost as what little clarity collapsed. The vacant stare set again on me as I sat gasping, weakened by the contact. His intrusion into my mind had shocked me, the prospects I had never considered before.Taking quick breaths my thoughts tried to unravel the few words that he had spoke. That lapse brief, I was jarred to realty as the latch of the door clicked and my mind reacted instantly fearing discovery.

    Gripping a memory as I pulled the  sweep of magic about me,…something small, insignificant. The primal fear filling me as I blurred,.., I squeaked,… pooped in fear… scurrying across the floor, instinctive of the need of flight, diving into a pile of books lying on the floor the waves of fear filling me until I could find that settling connection of control. A mouse wasn’t the safest of forms, but the easiest to hide here amidst the clutter of the room.

    I peered from my safe haven, watching as Caduceus entered the room, a tray in hand as he moved towards Xegis.

    “Did you bring my soup?”
    “No Xegis, bread, cheese and juice as always. It is mid day meal master.” The roll of master from him did not sound of respect.

    My mouse mind twittered with joy. I could sense the mouth watering with the prospects of crumbs.

    “You never bring me soup.”
    Caduceus set the tray on the desk top, “Far too warm for soup, Xegis, perhaps when the weather cools. Enjoy your day?” His question mocking of tone, as he lifted a cup from the tray and turned. One hand slipping under his robes

    “I saw a bird…”
    “You did?” Caduceus pulled a vial from his robes,..popping the cork as he adding a portion of the contents into the cup.

    “Spoke to me, it did. Right there” The scribe smiled, swirling the cup as he listened,… “Stood right there and talked,…” Xegis waved a withered hand before the desk….“Asked of Zierst, then turned into a ghost…gone…disappeared..”

    Caduceus stiffened. The color draining from his face. “Who? Who asked of Zierst?” He turned quick, setting cup and vial to the side as he leaned in. “Who?” he demanded

    “The bird… a hunter he is”

    “Who was he?” shouted Caduceus, “Xegis..”

    “You never bring me soup anymore”

    Caduceus whirled about frustration full on his face, I could sense the nervous edge raise strong inside him. A brief moment of contemplation,  obvious that further questions of the old man would yield little. Moving quick as he strode from the room, his thoughts elsewhere, forgetting the vial. No sooner than the door closed I scurried forth, released the binding to the rodent as Xegis picked the cup up. I raced forward, reaching, my hands pulling the cup from him.

    “The juice is spoiled my friend” taking it from his lips..

    “You promised soup.”

    “I did,..” Nodding, I broke off a small piece of cheese popping it into my mouth,.. savoring it’s taste as I crossed to the rooms chamberpot and emptied the contents of the cup within. The savoring taste of the cheese seemed to sooth the transition in return.

    “The juice is bad,.. remember that..”  I had small hope of his understanding that warning. “Remember, the juice is bad”

    His head nodded slightly, an illusion perhaps my words had left a mark. I was uncertain and now the the sound of footsteps again rose beyond the door. I moved quick.

    The latch of the door clicked,.. my fears of Caduceus returning for the vial strong, I raced back to the desk,.. grabbing the container, and setting it between my lips as I leaped towards the window,.. Gripping within again for that winged form, I slipped again into flight, streaking down,.. back into the safety of the shrubs, laving the weakened hope of immediate answers behind.


    For the rest of the afternoon I had wandered the city running a list of apothecaries  a local had given me. It hadn't been easy to find one willing to offer the information, a restrained suspicion of outsiders was beginning to edge into the town folk attitudes, and I was certain the list by far was not complete. For the most part the talk was limited of the lycan torn body found in the alley.  As I passed through the district where I had struck,  the rumors were more specific,… a survivor, …the suggestion of 2 lycans prowling,… the name Silverrmane dropped ominously into conversations, fear was beginning to undercut the tone of the oncoming festival.

    Silvermane… a name that often followed my travels. An urban legend that passed from taverns to taverns of the werewolf with silver streaked hair. Parents would use that tale to strike caution of the night to their children.

    At such I would word I would typically leave towns, but my work here was incomplete.

    The satchel I carried once crammed with an assortment of herbs I had gathered in my journeys, nearly emptied. My coin purse instead brimming now with coin, a meager way to fund my journeys but effective. I had learned early those herbs which brought better returns, keeping my senses open for the rare herbs which I hoarded until between towns. As always wolfbane, sold easily, especially where rumors of lycans roamed. Not that it helped much, merely tempering the effects of the taint, and certainly not rising to the heights wive’s tales spoke of it’s qualities to cure or ward.

    Yet for each shop I stopped and sold my goods, none could identify the substance within the vial. The yellow liquid within almost odorless to humans, even to my refined senses, the sweet odor seemed evasive.  For now in the late hour I of the evening, I could only mull my failures at the tavern of the inn I stayed crowded. I swirled the vial I held, eying the clear liquid once more before pocketing it within the folds of my leather shirt. Resigned to address the issue in the morrow I turned my attention to the mug of dwarfish ale before me and jostle of the growing numbers of travelers in the inn filtering in to the tavern for like matters.

    The sound of a lute drifted above the din of the crowd, the subtle melody I had heard over the previous nights weaving through the crowd.  Sitting before the huge stone fireplace was a satyr, his fingers working smoothly over the pipe,.. his eyes drifting over the crowd  nodding to those who gave him smiles. The gray streaks of his beard signified an older form, seleni perhaps, one of the matured creatures, who typically wandered the lands as story tellers and performers. It was not uncommon to find them frequenting the taverns and inns of the lands of the wilds. That one should come to a large human city, quite unusual.

    His companion immediately caught my eye.

    Curled at his hooves in her submissive pose, a wood nymph sat, her form straight, hands flat on the bronze skin of her thighs. Her shimmering black hair fell mid-shoulder, framing the narrow face that peered with darting, emerald green eyes. The diaphanous cloth wrapped about her body did little to hide  the marvel of her shape. I was spell bound, my heart racing with the memories of the nymph who had shared my bed, the brief stabbed of pain shooting through my soul. I stared, hard no doubt and her side glance to me, that subtle smile that crossed her face showing her appreciation.

    The music of satyr grew louder, as I watched her  the rise and fall of the breath of the nymph as the music took her. The familiar urges of the taint growing in me, my mind wrapped to the seductive creature before me, as the tune weaved, threading itself into my thoughts, those passionate memories I held,… the edge of my vision blurring, until only on her filled my gaze.

    She gracefully rose, bare feet stepping with a dancers precision,.. standing before the satyr,  her slender body moving slowly to the beat. Arms rising, the translucent wrap about her body tightening, short on her hips, it barely covered her bottom, but low enough that her movements although tantalizingly close never revealed the treasure between her legs.

    I wet my lips, watching her, consumed by her movements and the music, the rolling undulation of her torso, the press of her small breasts against that sheer fabric ,her hard nipples clearly outlined as she danced, twirled, rolling her hips seductively. Turning her head slightly her eyes lifted met mine, and a smile crossed face. She turned slow, keeping her rhythm as she worked her way towards me.  Never breaking her movement, her grace and flow memorizing. The tavern was a blur to me, the other patrons nonexistent. There was only the nymph, the music and the growing lust inside me.

    She stepped to the bench on the other side of the table, crawled forward until she knelt before me, bending her head in a roll, her hair swirled, her sweet fragrance filling my nostrils.  Her heartbeat wild excited, I could smell her want,.., the rise of excitement as she performed for me. Leaning back with knees set wide, her short shift rose on her hips, and I could see the lips of her sex glisten with rising desire. I was swelling with my own desire, my member tight in the leather breeches’. The animal lust rising, I could think of nothing more than the fire of desire of want,…need… that compulsion of the taint driving me mad.

    She leaned back on the table, torso rolling again,… the invitation too tempting, I leaned forwards reaching out and sliding my hands along her sides, the slow draw down to her hips as I pressed in kissing her along the inner thigh. Her scent strong,.. mind boggling…, gasping at the touch of my lips, she settled back,.. allowing me to slide forward, my lips and tongue glancing along her skin, working itself smoothly as I parted the folds of the fabric, pressed in and kissed moist lips of her sex.

    The pace of the music quickening as I slipped my tongue out stoking light, pressing dropping into her furrow , the slow strokes collecting as I savored the nymphs nectar. Lips pressing, sucking at her clit, as I reached in my fingers spreading her lips, then my tongue sweeping in a glancing brush, darting as it dipped and swept lower pulling through her to run at the rim of her sex. I could feel her heart racing, her body trembling, moans and whimpers reaching my ears as her body convulsed with the waves of pleasure sweeping her as I lapped there at the growing moisture.

    My other hand reached down struggling with the lacing of my pants, my hard member bent awkward in its confines, appreciative once free, firming hard once the binds released.  I pressed the bench back,…as I pulled from her. Reaching out she eagerly slid across the table under my guidance slipping down to straddle me.. She reached down gripping my hard shaft as she posed herself above, then lowered, slowly letting my thick shaft penetrate, and press in. Her hot walls gripped tight as she lowered, moaning with pleasure, her body shudder with the sheathing of my cock into her. Leaning back and bracing with her elbows on the table, she rolled slow, swallowing me in that silky warmth, riding on me in slow purpose as she savored the fullness of my shaft in her.  Pressing faster letting the tempo flow and match the beat of the music as the action built.

    My senses were afire. The taste of her on my lips, the wild tingling of my skin with the slightest contact of her, her scent overwhelming with lust and need, my eyes taking in her consumed look of fucking me, eyes closed, watching the trembles, pursed lips wavering under the sweet sensations. I could feel the wild thumping of her heartbeat, the rise of hot blood sweeping her as she strained to hold back that orgasm, the merging, commingling of the magic which flowed through our souls, wrapping us in an aura of exquisite ecstasy, driving us headlong as we fucked to that pinnacle.

    Until I could hold no more, with the eruption which swept me. I groaned, shuddered as I clenched her waist grinding her down on to me…which sent her over the edge. Her cries of pleasure as she released herself to her own orgasm. The magic about us flared,…until the music hit a disconcerting note.

    Instantaneously I was aware, gasping for breath as I realized my grip was not to her, but to the table. My pants wet, soiled from my seed. My eyes scanned the room, finding the nymph clenched to the leg of the satyr. Her staunch kneeling pose shattered, as she labored for breath as the waves of spasms still seemed to sweep her. As she collected herself, she gave me a knowing smile, eyes bursting yet with excitement.
    The Satyr was staring at her with confusion, taking in first the gasping  reaction of the nymph, then searching, wandering the crowd for understanding until his eyes fixed on me still panting. His eyes burned onto me letting me know of my transgression.

    I was confused, the image had been so rich in realty, but it was the magic that had bound us.  That I was certain, the satyr himself had wove those strings with his powerful magical music. What the nymph and I shared had flowed along the filaments of that music. I gave his stern glare a grin.  I was  hardly  in remorse of having filled my need at with his sweet succulent servant

    I could do nothing other than arrange my satchel to hide the wet spot on my pants as I rose. Slowly weaving through the maze of tables I returned to my room to clean myself up, and sleep, though my rest that night restless, the bittersweet memories of my nights with Aldaris consuming my dreams.


    She invades my thoughts again… that nymph … that moment. I shake my head and try to clear my thoughts of her and that… strangely alluring bond that seems familiar and foreign. Days have passed and it remains…vivid and detailed. With a deep breath I try to refocus and open my eyes to the task ahead.

    The city lay before me as pondered my options this night. One thing was certain the view from Xegis’ quarters was rather magnificent. The library had been built on a hillside, and from the old sages quarters it gave an unobstructed panorama of the city and the western ocean that lay its foot. The moon was half waned, a sight that always lightened the heavy burden on me. In a few days the new moon would smother the effects of the taint, I would find the remnants of lost humanity once again on me.

    I liked the dead of night, when a city slipped into a relative calm, In the pull of the taint my senses were taxed by a multitude of bombarding pricks of humanity. In this stillness I  could finally breath in its quiet elegance, think clearly,…. Well clearer is better said. The curse on me seemed to breath in subdued restraint when others were not about.

    I turned to Xegis who sat quietly at his desk, for the most part stoic of attitude. His  eyes still failed to give any glimmer of recognition, and frail hope on my part ever pressing dimmer. For three days it remained as unfocused and purposeless of conscious reaction. Even though I had broken from my search of the city to to intervene on the meals the one named Caduceus brought to him cloaking myself into small unnoticed shapes and discard the drugged drink before Xegis could soil his sole with its effects.. Now I released a heavy sigh bordering between frustration, and surrender grappling with the gnawing possibility that the great mind of Xegis had been lost simply due to age.

    It was echoing disappointment in that  I had wandered the city, searching for leads of the mysterious liquid. but met with failure after failure. Few could discern the light odor of the drug, none could  shed any light of its nature. The best lead had been a woman, a sentiment echoed by many, but I had entered her shop and found myself in maelstrom of oaths and curses the moment she set eyes on me. A half breeds life isn’t an easy one.

    The phrase “Roseshackle” to the apothecarys met with vacant stares matching Xegis condition, …more frustration,  for I was certain… Xegis in that brief bind had tried to tell me what clouded his mind. None knew of it.

    His words in that melding were few,  but direct clues in my mind as I tried to grapple with the memory. I think I would have give hope up but for him naming Zierst, I was certain he held knowledge of value concerning the demon, otherwise I would have long slipped from the city. I had left a wake of death during the full moon and  such matters do not go unnoticed by authorities. They invoke a responses. 

    Xegis naming Zierst was enough to dance in the possible repercussions. The hints regarding the fate of Aldaris heavy chains on me to hold  me to the old man’s fate. There was no way I could leave this place, not with troubling allegations concerning her lingering in my mind.
    I had to know,.., had to peel back that blanket on his mind.

    I crossed the room again to him, naked feet in a soft padding on the wooden floors. Kneeling at his side as I reached up cupping his head. Another attempt at binding seemed necessary. With a resigned sigh, I shifted into my mind….found that core and reached to his…, my senses probing, but the walls too strong,… each press was shoved away, parried, slide away ineffective. I broke the contact, settled back upon my heels and looked upon Xegis'  and saw a slight smile cross his face.

    “You’re resisting me aren’t you?” I murmured.

    The smile disappeared as he spoke. “Soup,… soup help, I need ….soup”

    I sat back on my heels,…the stern determination of his words hit me.  Broth was often seen as a aide to the ill,…perhaps he knew something it might dampen the effects of the drug, maybe purge the body of its touch.  I wrestled with the prospect,…he needed to be completely free of this place, free of any potential chance of the drugging. The only way to be assured would be to remove him, hide him and try to wean the effects of the drug from him. Feed him soup,.. hell, bath him in it if that’s what it took.

    Rising I with the decision I moved quick to his wardrobe, yanked a couple of changes of clothes and crossed back, easing him up as I dressed him in the formal robes and slippers of his profession. My own nakedness a minor concern, I might have borrowed his, but they were far too small. To creep the halls of the library naked with a babbling old man was not the most favorable of options.

    I raised a finger to my lips for silence as I slipped into the consciousness of a creature from my far flung travels. Xegis hardly reacted as the Mountain Gorilla materialized and reached for him, lifting him over the coarse hairs of my shoulders. With a quick burst I scooted across the room leaped through the window clamping a hand on the sill, and swung down to a lower ledge,… leaped for another hand hold then dropped us easily to the ground. I latched back to my natural form as I slide him from my shoulders and straightened his gown.

    “Ready for soup?” I asked, the tone more in playful tease then fact.

    He nodded eagerly,.. ”Soup! Yes soup!”

    I shushed him again,…raise my hands as I backed into the bushes where my clothes lay hidden. “Soon enough friend,.. we’ll get you soup at the inn.”

    He shook his head,.. ”No,.. no soup… need soup. Soup help! ” His eyes seemed frantic at my suggestion glancing nervous down the street.

    “At the inn,” my tone holding to a gentle consoling edge, as best as I could. Xegis gave me a peculiar troubling look.

    “They have soup there,… good soup.” I turned away stepping into the cover, slightly puzzled as I reached down for the jerkin. and slid the leather over my head.  “I’ve tried their soup, It’s particularly good.”

    I reached for the leather pants, sliding one leg in, turning as I did back to Xegis. “If one doesn’t…”

    ,….or rather turned to where he should have been. A sharp curse slipped from me as I stepped from the bushes. A frantic look right ,.. left… no sign of the old sage.


    I stamped my foot…my pants falling free to my ankles, oblivious to the fact of my lower nakedness as I stood there hands on hip.

    A drugged babbling old man,  nymphs,…conspiracy… what madness have I gotten myself into?


    Damn,… damn… DAMN… how the hell could an old decrepit  man suddenly slip from me unnoticed and so easily.

    I slipped back into the bushes stripping quick again, angry at myself for such carelessness… reached into the memories as I jerked free of the jerkin… sliding comfortably into one that could help.

    Had I been on the absolute cusp of the moon I would not have required it, but dulling senses meant to give over to forms with acute abilities. I trotted from the bushes on gangly legs, bent my head to the ground and let the bloodhound in me take charge. I hated the floppy ears that continually flapped over my eyes, but the nose was its essence… the power of the form, it honed on the scent of Xegis with  incredibly ease… a squirrel too,… molding sweet bread crumbs…a remarkable perfume in the air… back to the squirrel… I halted,.. steadying my control… as always some instincts take hold first with a form… and it takes a moment to gain purposeful control.

    Refocusing, I latch to the scent of Xegis and nose to the ground send myself into the darkness on his trail.

    It lead downhill, following the winding street, skirting the foreign district…a path straight of purpose hardly of mindless wandering. That I had not caught up to him quickly indicated intent on destination…,whatever end point he had in mind he made good time. I had confidence I was gaining, at least until the path lead into the docks,. and my nose was overwhelmed by a cacophony of odors. I crisscrossed the plaza of the docks… catching faint whiffs of the trail… weaving past burly night stevedores.. drunks,.. dodging heavy carts bludgeoning with wares. Found the trail skirting dangerously close to the dock edge…skirted under a heavy caged wagon…my ears picking up a woman's cries.

    Her gasps and pleas were enough to pull me in detour, I slipped beneath the heavy caged wagon,, drifting forward until I could peer about the wagon catch the sight of the huge man in ruthless action against a woman, her hands bound by ropes to the huge bars of the caged, head tossing in frantic response…lost in the ecstasy of the moment. Her high booted legs wrapped tight on his hips, skirts hiked high as she as she rode him in abandonment to lust. The loud slaps of his quick powerful thrusts, the heavy scent of sex in the air,.. enough to pull me forward… plant my hips to the ground and watch. Her body tightened , back arching as an orgasm took her,… which propelled her grunting partner into further action… I found myself …ahem.. well,… aroused by the sight of the hot lust and all…panting,…not even certain when my long tongue spilled lazily out to droop from my mouth… body tingling as I felt the slip of a hardness of my cock sliding from its sheath….

    I was mesmerized by the moment.. watching as he finally found that breaking point gripping her hips tight as he arched back and released his seed into her slick depths.. just the aromas to the sensitive nose was a powerful aphrodisiac,… I lingered watched her rolling on his hips, eyes locked on his sweating face as if in eager need of more. He back away, slipping from her…

    “Insatiable…don’t ever change bitch.”  He kissed her hard. Stepped back to shove his package into his trouser. He turned away but I could here him shout, “Jarvis you're up!”

    I heard the heavy clod of horses led by two men as the entered the narrow confines. The woman eyed them eagerly as they tied the saddled mounts up to a nearby wagon.

    “About time ,”  grumbled one, “There’s a delay in raising the rest of the gear from the holds. Arn has nothing to do till the ships captain gets his thumb from his ass and gets the remaining gear off loaded. It'll take a bit,  I figure a double dip might kill the time.”
    The woman released a delicious moan at the suggestion as two big men slipped into view. Hard looking men, a swagger of confidence given to mercenaries who know their trade.

    My tail wagged in eager anticipation.

    One pulled a knife quickly slashing the ropes, stepped around her and freed the other hand, then tossed the knife into the ground before me.

    “Hurry boys…” she coxed, her eyes locked on the man freeing her,  her gaze slipping past him lingering  in my direction, no doubt amused by the presence of the hound dog with a raging hard on. She laughed, until our eyes met…

    The corruption is an disease the infected can hide from normal humans, but the waning and waxing of its effect is ever present, eyes are windows into the souls,… channels by which we of the corrupted use to touch into the receptors of another’s senses… or find the reek of the corruption in another.

    I could taste it on her,… as she could taste it on me. I recoiled at it instantly.

    The expression on her face was washed by confusion. I knew, she sensed it, knew the image of a dog was a paradox, for canines are not affected by the taint.  She began stuttering as hands grabbed her pushing her down to her knees.

    I stared at the knife before me… shuddered as if dunked in a bath of ice water… silver.

    Glancing to the string of horses, my eyes focused on a bandoleer of silver cross bolts. The heavy cage to which she had been bound.
    The woman’s voice staining to redirect the men, “Boy’s… boy’s…”

    “Com’ on luv’ lets see your talents again..” The were shifting,  unleashing their members as they positioned themselves.

    “Goddamm it!…” Her voice raised in annoyance, the moments mood killed, “Enough!… ” She slapped at at groping hands and pulled herself together. “Stop it!…  The dog!”

    “What dog?”

    I had already moved away slipping into the darkness, nails clicking on the cobblestones as I loped from the wagons and the ones I recognized as lycan hunters. My mind raced. The luxury of time had been twisted.  I had presumed 18 days before conditions dictated leaving the city,.. with hunters it would have been a delicate extension,… they are honed to pick up the aggressive natures as the moon approaches.. peg their targets. Myself as a hunter had always had the luxury of conscious knowledge in rooting out the corruption.  Yes we can look into another’s eyes and recognize it, some betters then others. I am very good at this,…but I have had decades of practice,  better too in that as the full moon approaches… there is a point when we can sense  the presence nearby… feel them across widening distance. On the cusp of the full moon is a common knowledge all share.

    I grappled with the time frame… a week,…ten days…I had to avoid the woman at all costs on the rising moon.  Maybe fourteen at best before the alluring call of the taint would connect us. I had never imagined that the one advantage I held in my hunts would at some point be turned on me.

    I slipped from the docks, doubling my intent until I found Xegis trail again and moved quick to leave the threat of the hunters behind me. His scent  moved beyond the docks, climbed a small hill into the better residential district of the area… turning at last into a large house with finely manicured shrubs,… neat,… orderly,… light within still aglow even at this hour. I glanced to a wooden shingle squeaked in its hinges above me,…and understood….finally… FINALLY understood.

    When faced with uncertainty and helplessness we seek that which brings us comfort,..,  lean on spouses, friends,.. lovers for that support we need. Even in the cobwebs of the confusion Xegis desired that. I had just been too preset on his words to understand… and so as I turned away from the house, my nails again clicking on the cobblestone as I wandered in thought,… for even in the wave of unsettling events  I found comfort in the realization of this discovery… I knew just where to find Xegis, instincts telling me he wouldn’t be wandering off. I headed back to my clothes forming a path to skirt the hunters… and return…to the structure with the business shingle out front that read,

    “Madame Soopes House of Hospitality”


    For a moment I lingered outside the inn where I had chosen to to stay days before and took in a deep draught of the aromas floating in the air.

    My intent had been to merely to rid myself of the leather jerkin and change into my finery, this was after all not the wilds which I was so normally accustomed to. That aroma though,… succulent, enticing, the deep scent of sexual excitement emulating from the inn detoured my intentions. It was always harder to shake myself down into that quiet peace of humanity as opposed to the rise after the new moon. Be it just fresh on my mind,..or my obsession I lingered on that edge of choice, not compulsion. Perhaps it was being in that state of mind, a sad statement of my current nature which had not found fulfillment for over a day to simply rationalized Xegis would be fine till morning. None would know his disappearance until the morning hours.

    I needed release for clarity.

    A rationale any addict could relate to.

    With mouth watering I entered the main floor of the inn trembling as I felt the sexual charge even before eying the naked mass of patrons entwined in their sexual orgy. Licking my lips I took stock of the sexual energy which hung in a haze abundant over the withering mass within locked in their ecstasy. My acute senses probed for one highly aroused, the one most likely to be receptive to my own enraging lust. My attention was drawn to  the large voluptuous matron straddling the Satyr upon the performing platform. I could not retrain myself from watching her ride that gigantic phallus. The sheen of her excitement coated his cock, making it glisten in the dull light of the room.

    I watched as she rolled on him, salivated as she leaned back pressing him deeper into her folds as she reached up and squeezed her heavy ample breasts. With his lute set to the side, his hands held her hips as he rolled  under her  in response…bracing her as he leaned back and with raised hips thrusted that slab fast into her. She arched shattering at his quickened thrusts, breaking over and over into the throes of orgasm.

    I stood there soaking in that intoxicating sight.. nearly panting… feeling every thrust pummeling into her sex.. No doubt the satyr had used his unique gift caressing those sweet seductive chords upon his audience. The symphony of groans, … ecstatic moans,,,the chirp of rising peaks sung by the thirty so naked soul entwined in the room were music to my ears.  He had led them to completely disrobing of any inhibitions. I had found heaven in this moment. Like a drunk beaming at an open bar, I wavered there, fumbling at the ties of my jerkin eager to plunge into the chaos of flesh.

    I needed no music to find my lust.

    My interest flickered brief to the side catching a glimpse of the seductive nymph who had shared my illusion. She knelt stoic behind him. Clothed, rigid in form, untouched by the  chaos of lust that filled the room. a stark statue of contrast to the primal action surrounding her .My eyes roamed over the fine beauty of her face framed by the black waves of long hair which cascaded over her shoulder, drifting lower following the rise and fall of her chest, those perky breasts jutting against the mold of silk draped upon her.  For a moment the memory of our shared illusion filled me, the feeling of her…, all sweeping again upon me. Her eyes shifted falling upon me,  not with flames of lust or intimacy, nor despair, but a lancing gaze, …that pierced thru my  hormonal drive,…calming, ….familiar as it seemed to drive into me.

    Shrinking from the effect of her  gaze…my eyes avoiding hers, perhaps  in hope to withdraw again into the darkened shadows of the I,…but I was compelled again to look meeting again that calm demur she bore. She knelt there proud,…regal and brilliant in that a stature in the midst of writhering entwined flesh.

    I swallowed hard, my throat parched from my canine  exploits and the lobbing run from the docks .My eyes glanced to the empty bar wet From tipped cups and tankards. Yet one stood foaming at the brim, it beckoned my thrist..

    A good draught and I perhaps this strange stillness would passs and I  would be set to join in the fun.

    Crossing to the bar my hands reached to grip the tankards handle, yet halted by a steeled grip which shot out locked to my wrist.

    “Nay so fast laddie. That beauty is spoke for… just move along and find something of the flesh to divert your thirst..”

    A grayed head rose from behind the heavy oaken bar, and steeled eyes framed by equally gray and bushy eyebrows took me in. A dwarf, proud faced, with high ruddy cheekbones stood up, which wasn’t really much, for  he rose a head higher than the  bar.
    Eyes narrowed, nearly squinting as he weighed me, then released his stout  short fingers from my grip in recognition. It was a face I knew…long,… long ago.

    He mulled me for a moment,  then spoke in a deep booming voice. “Ner’ ever did I figure to see the likes of you again laddy. You seemed destined to go the way of darkness, “  He shoved the drink towards me. “Drink up Bear.””

    Lifting  his mug hidden in his other hand below  below the bar  he raised it in toast squaring his broad massive chest then tossing back his head to drain the contents as the tankard kissed his lips..

    In the decades I had wandered the lands I rarely broke bread with folks more than once. It was far too dangerous to linger long anywhere, and my quest kept me constantly on the move searching for clues and rumors of Zierst.  But for once.. I had met Angus and his troop of gnomes in the dark woods a place far to dangerous for them or other travelers in such small numbers to venture alone in.

    I was raw edged in the ways of civilization and of common folk, as much a wild creature of those dark woods than of humanity. I was a shadow that would slip unseen into the towns, making no attempt to blend with the streets of life. Yet a small thread of decency did exist in me.
    Reluctantly I agreed to guide them to nearby settlements.

    Their fellowship was a flame to attract the fleeting moth of my interest, the camaraderie of nights about the campfire with the gnomes,…intelligent, inventive,… eccentric in their ways and manners. I found  moment of peace with them, listened to shared  lores and laughter under the stars of those wildlands. The old dwarf smithy gave me a fathers wisdom which had been torn from me in my youth,.. I had learned I  yearned for such, for I had never realized the burden of loneliness the years had left an ache for companionship until I had found it. So days stretched into weeks,.. weeks into months. It was they who named me in the cloak I wore, for identity…Bear, … by reason a chance encounter of the youngest gnome to see my transformation into such. I spun my lies of identity on that, an ursine shapesifter  and found them accepting of my uniqueness.

    When the moon would be raising in threatening fullness, I would excuse myself from their camp simply explaining of the need to live that form. They did not question it, nor feared,  knowing no trepidation in that I would be in the woods watching over the protecting them, greeting me enthusiastically after the moon waned when I lumbered back into camp bear formed and transformed human again.

    The taint became a mere annoyance,  only  rearing its ugly head of lust when we found settlements. I figure the scents and aroma fuel it. Like I should be feeling now.

    “To you Angus. For clear roads and full purses” I lifted the tankard in sincere salute and took a deep draught,… regretting it immediately. My throat burned, as the liquid slid down. My eyes watered and I gagged spitting out what had not been swallowed slamming the tankard down
    Angus cut loose a hearty laugh,  “Careful what you poach lad. It may bite back.”

    I rubbed at my mouth as if I could push the taste out of it.

    “Gods, what form of demon spit were you serving me.”

    He turned about grabbing a fresh tankard and filled it from a barrel against the wall. Swinging towards me about to hand me what I hoped was more suitable ale.

    “The good dwarven stuff Bear, Sleepy Hollow Thunder Ale,” He set a fresh tankard before me. “polish one of those off and ye’ be sleeping 99 years.”

    I reached for coin to pay him but he shook his head waving me off. That suited me , The back of my hand I had wiped with still burned with my transgression. Internally I paid too,…my stomach churned and I swore I was sweating. I eagerly took the ale and drained it.

    “Well if you aren’t finishing this….” He gripped the shunned tankard and drained it full.

    I did not answer immediately, hoping the weaker ale would sooth me. “Well I never figured you the likes of you  to hang your hammer up and take to minding a bar.”

    Angus laughed, “Hardly laddie, though the idea of endless supply of ale is enticing,, but then  I’d drink me profits away. Nay,.” He cast a gesture to the side. “Ol’ Jo’ell is a bit distracted to attend to matters.”

    Leaning across the bar and I glanced behind it, catching sight of a skinny white ass bobbing up and down between the open legs of  a serving wench.

    “So poaching a bit yourself while he's churning the butter, eh? What brings you here then, certainly not the tunes…And just where are your charges? They still with you”

    Angus face soured, “Nay not the tunes, you know we dwarves move to a different note…. The tune master himself.” His eyes cast angrily at the Satyr. “ That bastard of a goat  Baylis, he owes me for work I did in Amberdeen a couple years past. I hoped to recoup a the loss. That was a wasted  hope,  As to the lads,. “ He sighed and dip behind the bar again..

    His voice raised as he filled his tankard from a keg below apparently Ol' Jo'ell was protective of his select brew.,  “As to the lads, I left them with a charge to sweep the stables. There are four,… nothing will be accomplished, they’ll bicker all night about how to accomplish it . Safe and secure in inaction.”

    “Hardly fair making the tavern pay for his slight.”

    “Me cheat?”  A hand slapped a wad of tab receipts on top of the bar. He rose again filled tankard  in hand. “Baylis will have a hefty account to settle this night.” I grinned and cast the satyr another glance, though my eyes went past him onto the nymph again. Her eyes were still set upon me, her head tilting slight as a gentle smile crossed her face. Sublime,.. as if asking in expectant expression ‘what are you going to do now?’.

    She paid scant attention to the staggering male who approached with desiring eyes. Nor did she flinch when the satyr impaled that buxomest blond deep on him and lashed out with a cloven hoof sending the suitor scurrying away. Harsh words were spoke, yet I heard none, such was my infatuation in her.

    “What of his companion?” I asked of Angus, leaning back in a casual matter “What do you know of her, this… Baylis seems quite protective of his little treasure there.” I tried to keep my question subtle.

    “Forget her, unless you dare walking as a skinned bear . He’s protective of that one. Intent of maintaining her purity.”

    I cocked my head amused. “A nymph pure?… you might as well say burning snow.”

    Angus shrugged, raising his tankard to his lips, he paused in a thought, “Moon phase purity they say.” I looked on him noting a hint of unsteadiness in his normal solid stance, that bright sparkle in his eyes had dimmed a bit. Gods know just how much of this brew he had been slamming down, but it was quite apparent to have an obvious kick.

    I reached out tapping his arm in distraction from taking a sip.

    “They? Who are they?”

    He waved me off, “Idle tavern gossip,… you know .” ready to indulge himself in his tankard..

    I reached, stopped him again short of drink. “Of Baylis and a simple nymph? Seems quite trivial speculation”

    Angus scoffed, waving a hand at me. “Nothing trivial about Baylis.” He lifted the drink to his lips.

    “Well nothing trivial about being a cheat. Unless there are much deeper secrets you have not shared.”. I paused then added “Unless of course you know nothing more.”

    Angus halted, I knew enough of him to bait his loose tongue. He set the tankard on the bar, rising on tip toes to  lean forward, as best he could across the bar. A stout finger shook at me as he slurred. “Oh he is,… you know he’s exiled from the courts,… he has. Ere since Celedon, Played his lute there and worked them up mightily. Found no favor with the King when he was caught ploinking the queen. Banished…” he waved his hand out in enthusiastic emphasis knocking the tankard over. He paused, and for a moment I thought he might grieve over spilled ale. Annoyed he continued in a hushed voice. “ N’ere to play the royal courts again. A seleni in his prime exiled,… stuck in  playing in two talent shitholes for commoners. For years he’s be seeking a sponsor to enter the courts again. Right the shame his pride cannot endure. “

    Angus slid back grabbing his tankard and dipped below to refill it.

    “and he found one?” I asked

    Angus peeked over the bars lip nodding,… I think he was nodding, hunched below. “Aye,… some say he caught favor with the prince, delivering him specially endowed … gifts.” He set the tankard on the Bar, leaned in again whispering …”An evil one that prince,… Gods have mercy on those poor lasses that be was bequeathed. The dark hall of the docks abound with stories of his perversions…I fear mightily for these people if he when he ascends the throne.”

    “So she is a gift for the princes… gratification?”

    “Eh,..” Angus shrugged that off in uncertainty and slipped below again. “I be not convinced  of that. For weeks the dark halls have echoed the prince desired something special. It’s not normal for him so publicly seek for personal …indulges.”

    I frowned at that. The dark halls he spoke of were gathering places of thieves assassins, and murderers. I glanced to him as he eyed the prize in his grip.” And your opinion?”

    Angus always had an opinion to share.

    “A gift,… he seeks favor with the imperial eagle.”

    That caught my attention. An imperial emissary  here in the free state of Liviticus.? The Imperium had been founded on the noblest of concepts. Yet centuries had seen the purist of intents fall victim to the cancer within it. Greed, the thirst of personal power had twisted it into a brutal repressive kingdom.

    “Why would an Imperial Eagle be here?”

    “Are you daft lad? You’ve walked those woods far too long. War is brewing between the free states. Even now alliances are being carved out. Lines are being drawn tis’ a sad dawning that rises in our future. The Eagle arrives and it is not a blessing for these folks.”

    “So you think she is prize to be offered to the Imperial Eagle,? A princes favor for Imperial support.?”


    Angus stood there with raised mug. anticipating another question. “Are ye done lad? This dwarfs throat is parched with all this babbling and in serious need. “

    My eyes drifted over the orgy aflame in the room, returning to the nymph who still looked upon me. I could feel her,… I could feel the calm clarity of my soul as her eyes held to me. With all the sexual tension hanging in this room, the sweat, the aromas, the sounds of lust that should have ignited my own….her effect intrigued me..

    “Go ahead, Angus its drink well deserved”

    Angus grinned his chest heaved relieved  as he brought the potent brew to his lips muttering… “Ah….Come to papa…”

    I casually added baiting him,  “Of course  robbing Baylis of such a pure gift would be a satisfying means of retribution…for debts unpaid.”

    Angus halted mid sip, he slowly lowered his mug leaving his mustache coated in white foam. “The nymph?”  I nodded at him “Naer thought that itch in your crotch would ever serve good use, but you may have something there… get the old goats goat.”

    He set the tankard far to the side and leaned in.

    “I’m listening…”

    I had an idea of a plan, whether it would work… that would be seen. I leaned against the bar and stroked my chin, using my hand to hid the subtle smile I felt. It was far easier to ride my reputation of lust in a lie then tell the truth of my motivation.

    Nobody would have believed the truth.


    A voice had tickled my conscious as I formed my haphazard plan. Feminie, soft,  gentle and reflective in its tone, it spoke in a clarity of sharpness.

    “It amazed me that it worked”

    I KNEW that voice, from somewhere,… sometime but I could not place it. As I had shared my plan with Angus there was a reaffirming confidence given to me of my words. I am not shaken by much,… but this presence in my mind, a sense of the present moment somehow being history..

    I take a deep breath and try to release the thoughts, but it lingers there just out of the consciousness.
    As I wait on Angus my eyes drift again to the nymph. Her gaze holds on me with a depth of familiarity I cannot shake. It’s like looking across the room into piercing eyes of deep intimacy. Closing my eyes, it still takes all my will power to turn myself away.

    Closing my eyes does not help.

    I feel her.

    I sense her in deepness I cannot fathom in reason

    Angus pushed the tankards forward, “It’s on you now laddie.” His words slur some and by the gloss of his eyes one can tell that the special dwarven brew is quite potent.

    Its a moment that breaks that hold of the presence.

    “No worries,:” I gave him a confident grin. “Besides, what have I told you are my strengths?”

    Angus rolled his eyes,… “Aye,,, fighting, drinking and fornicating. Not necessarily in that order.”

    I gave him a wink as I pulled the vial of clear liquid from my pouch “Plays to my strengths then doesn’t it?” For all purposes this elixir seemed to quell the mind. I wasn’t certain, but hoped between the brews strength and the mind numbing abilities of the liquid the old seleni would succumb to its effects. I popped the vials cork and tapped a few drops sparingly into the tankard taking.

    “Tis a sleeping potion?” Angus eyed the brew curious, as if expecting a pop and smoke.

    “Not exactly.” I shrugged carefully recorking the vial.

    “That tells me little.”

    “Well I am not sure.”

    “Not sure?”  Angus grunts weaving a bit. I did not answer him,…I could not answer him for the effects of the  liquid in the vial were as much a mystery to me. All I knew was that it dulled the senses, ..all I could hope for was that it dulled his immense tolerance for alcohol into something manipulative.

    With a deep breath to steady my nerves I collected the tankards, carefully as Angus had generously filled them to the brim. The amber fluid sloshed and ran over the edges as I turned pausing to read the clearest track to navigate around the orgy,

    I may have sold Angus short in not revealing my true intentions. However I am a secretive creature, driven by the need to remain in the confusing shadows of purpose. It is a necessity when one pursues a demon, or that one carries a dark corruption inside. Like a motto, it manifests into a well rehearsed pattern of behavior. Move in stillness thru humanity, do not create ripples in the pool of society which might bring unwanted attention. Too often I held myself back while injustice played itself out before me. Yes,… I held myself back, and allowed the innocent to fall victim while heartless men took their advantage of them.

    Angus might have understood my true compulsion, might was the key word.  Waiting until Baylis cast a suspicious glance towards me before I added a flair of staggering gait to my walk, weaving indirectly towards the satyr leaving behind me a trickling trail of ale on the wooden planked floors.

    His eyes held warningly upon as I finally rocked on my heels next to him. He waves me off indifferently, refocusing on the male and female knelt between his legs in worship of that mighty phallus. The blonde who had rode his insatiable engorged member lay exhausted to the side. New lust tended him, tongues which drug slow savoring his prowess, their fingers jockeying in position to grip and stroke him.

    I dare to steal a glance of the nymph. Her head tilts slightly taking in my presence with a look of curiosity and amusement. The tilt  of her head just enough for me to catch a glimpse of metal about her neck obsured till now by the drape of her long hair about her neck.

    It is the briefest of glimpses, and yet by the satyrs’ glare obviously already too long, I make my move fast before a cloven hoof lashes at me. I shove a pair of tankards forward towards Baylis,  the brew cresting over the tankards rim and spilling onto his chest.

    “Drink with me!” I cry, my pitch mildly set boorishly loud enough to cement his attention. He growled, pulling his hips up the seat in surprise as the brew sloshing over him. The cuddling pair between his legs scooted forward chasing their rigid pillar of worship.

    Most men would have slapped the tankards away, but satyrs are not most men, being the offsprings of Pan they never turn from the offer of drink.

    It’s a course of instinct in them I could have as easily dumped a tankard on his head and offered him the other, he would have as likely accepted the favor of drink .

    Still he bore a begrudging reluctance as he yanked the tankards away, its contents rolling again over the rim onto him.

    With his attention set firmly on me I held his beady stare. Satyrs are not comely creatures. Squarish of face with high foreheads bearing a distinct ridge under their thick unibrows.  Eyes set deep beneath,  recessed under that ridge leave them with an aura of dark mystery or dark erotic appeal, a distinction depending on how much you have to drank or fallen under the  alluring magic of their music. The horns jutting from his high forehead are thick. denoting a creature of old age. Broad chested, thick arms, the mat of chest hair is thick, but nothing like the coat of hair that covers his hips and leg.

    “A toast,” I swear “to the God Pan.” Want a satyr to drink… toast their Deity,  not necessarily a god but to Baylis would not quip at the  over exaggeration, It would be sacrilege not to join in such high salute Baylis  tossed his head back and drained the mug. I smiled as I drained my tankard, thinking blessed are the faithful.

    Baylis wiped his mouth, a contented grin on his thin lips. “Dwarven Ale…. A good strong brew. “

    I swayed a little nodding… “The good brew… he hides it…a shame,  No doubt your thirst  is great. It takes energy to enthrall such a crowd.” He made to speak, but I cut him off. “A toast,… to your skill and the honor it brings Pan.!” I drank immediately draining the tankard of house ale, sparing a glance to confirming the satyr followed suit,  gulping the  contents down swift.. I turn towards the bar and wave my arms  Shouting “More!,.. Bartender,… More..”

    Angus was already moving towards us carefully balancing four more tankards in his precarious weave thru the squirming sea of bodies. He pushes a pair of mugs towards me. Which I take somewhat perplexed, uncertain in the moment if they are my drink of the lite house ale  or the heavy hitting dwarven brew .The obvious confusion must have been apparent, Angus nods his head jerking towards the satyr.

    “Ah good my short fellow…. Don’t stop, keep the drink flowing.“ I fumble for a coin and flip it towards him. Again I shove the tankards towards Baylis “Drink,… drink while the brew can still flow freely.”

    Baylis is leaning forward, his suspicious gaze locked on Angus as I relieve the dwarf of the remaining tankards. The satyr’s eyes narrow as they follow the retreating dwarf moving to the line of tankards set upon  the bar. “I know him..”

    My senses sparked with a warning, all could be undone if Baylis dwelled on that too long. My plan could be defeated when it had scarcely begun.

    “They all look alike in my opinion. Turn them upside down and they all look like relatives” I take a deep breath hoping the contents of the vial and hefty brew have found their mark. “Perhaps it is fatigue that clouds your mind. Sleep…”

    Baylis shoots me an annoyed glance and grunts. “This evening has just begun.”

    I felt a tinge of disappointment, …just a little.

    Let's be honest, the plan WAS hastily conceived. But…,

    Everything had just begun.


    Again I shove the tankards towards Baylis which he takes instinctively, still with measuring eyes on the waddling dwarf. “Who doesn’t this night.” I hiss softly. “The little bugger is poor of coin. Accosts any who listens with lies they owe him money. Like any would believe a dwarf to extend credit. Their purse strings are as tight as their arses,…”,  I take a sip of the ale, adding casually “but they make fine brew.”

    My eyes skirted along Baylis’  hands, and noted the wrap of a thing chain dangling over his left wrist its length dropped to the ground. A chanced a brief glance and glanced again towards the nymph.  Before her where she knelt was a pool of the chain, neatly coiled in a pile before her. The other end snaked up her lap and was wrapped, secured about her right wrist. I had not noted it in that vision, but there again, it was a vision and I shrugged it off to the effects of her beauty, my mind had been far too distracted on other attributes, … so to speak.

    I raise the tankard.  “To Dwarven brew!”  I down the drink. Baylis polishes his off before me. I glance to Angus and nod for the next round. He scuttles quick to the bar quickly snatching 4 more tankards, pausing there briefly with a look of concern.

    I cannot let Baylis slip from the roll of liquor. Yet even as I turn his attention has drifted to the pair between his legs. One hand buries into the hair of the male and pulls him over that pulsating shaft. Eagerly the man slobbers in joy and plunges open mouth onto Baylis.

    “See something you like man?” Baylis has his eyes locked on me. A rather sultry look of fire and beckoning in his eyes.”

    “And break his joy?” Nodding towards the blond slobbering over Baylis. “ No, I fear the drink has taken the shine off my wants.”

    “Well I can fix that.” Baylis reaches for his lute. The last thing I need is for him to whip up my lust with his talents.

    “And waste this opportunity? The bar is as open and free as a wenches you stoked here. “To dwarven ale!”

    “We already drank to that.”  His eyes still rightfully eye me suspiciously.

    “To free dwarven ale!” I down my drink hearing Baylis mutter.

    “I cannot deny that… Free ale!” He drops the lute,  moving the hand forward to shove the man down on his cock as he tosses his drink back.

    I chance another peek at the kneeling statuette of the nymph, her head held titled slight with the hint of a knowing sublime smile. Her gaze locked intensely on the satyr as if weighing his responses with expectancy. The intensity catches me off guard, so focused, absolute as if her eyes could bend him to her will. Perhaps I over read here, but feeling that penetrating calm that hovers over me when her eyes shift to me, I wonder in this moment if she brings that to him.. I can feel her shift her attention slowly upon me, …. like a weight that pressing upon the soul,

    Angus staggers towards us, and its quite clear the burden of  the ale is beginning to weigh heavy on him. I turn again to him eying the brimming tankards and as he pulls up short I can see  the confusion on him. I give him a silent gesture  to choose which is the heavy brew, but he remains in indecision.

    Gods, not now. I lean as hush whispers are exchanged.

    “Which is it Angus?”

    “I don’t know,  you two are washing yourself quick in this , I just grabbed four to hurry back.”

    “arrgh..”  I cannot hide my momentary frustration.

    “Is there a problem?” I hear Baylis ask a tinge of slur stretching his words..

    I turn quick to Baylis and his response.

    My dart of a reply  is quick, “No problem, no problem, he merely voices admiration of your endowment. He’s rather shy in admitting it.”

    “Is he now?”  Baylis eyes the dwarf like a choice piece of meat. “I can relieve his inhibitions if he pleases.” His hands fumble toward his lute.

    “Bear!”  Angus stands teetering, yet his eyes flare with a panic at me. A harsh whisper escapes  from him. “If he launches some dwarven ditty I’ll hunt you down. There’ll be…”

    I grab a pair of tankard from him, swinging quick to Baylis, “As enticing as that might be then who would serve us? Best we think of things in hand then the possibilities …”  I push the brew towards Baylis  who beams bright at the gift and diverts again from the lute accepting them.

    His eyes linger on Angus, I lean in and draw his attention away, “The skills of dwarves are far beyond their smithy skills.  Have you ever had dwarven head?”

    Baylis peers at me, his eyes finally showing signs of a glassy dullness. He slurs in reply, “No doubt legendary.”

    “Asshole… “ I hear Angus hiss. I swing to him quick. Too quick, the quick flood of brew is hitting me and the room spins for a second. I realize there is a chance from all appearances Baylis will outlast us. I lean into Angus hushly instructing, “Test them before you return, leave mine partially filled, our goal is to polish him off not me. Now go!”

    Immediately my throat burned as if swallowing fire. My first reaction was to send the potent brew spewing out in a spray over the naked masses before us. I half expected bodies to burst into flames where the brew landed. With watering eyes I glanced to Baylis, draining his tankard. Had he seen my transgression?  My plan could be in ruins if he had. I teetered on the edge of failure and held my breath to await his reaction…..


    Baylis  was too busy tipping the tankard down his neck and the potent pleasure of the wet mouth on his huge cock.

    He hadnt seen it. I mutter a muted, “Thank you Pan”  My eyes drifted downwards as I breathed through my brief prayer and sigh of relief.

    The attentive male between the satyrs legs looks a bit flustered. His hand worked frantically along the drooping massive phallus.

    I had to smile in that moment, noting the best barometer I held here of Baylis’s condition was the erective strength of his manhood. Well I imagine that his slab of pride had never been eyed so intently for its flaccidity before.

    Baylis casts me a wary look eying my half filled tankard. I feign my scowl,…

    “Cheat!… he has tried to slip his lesser brew upon me.” I throw down the tankard and buttress my stance as I glare at the bar. Shouting,… “I expect better than this…this swill!”

    “To Swill!”

    The satyr’s  toast catches me off guard. Baylis drains his tankard, eagerly… very eagerly and his bobbing head as he wipes his mouth afterwards tells me we are close. Hurry Angus. A quick glance to the bar and I find my dread. Angus is bent too purposely, carefully eyeing brew as he refills a tankard. Sips a little, fills a little more, drains a partially filled tankard, and turns swaying awkwardly. Nearly falling as he anchors himself to the bar.

    I twist to Baylis and shove my remaining tankard to him. “Ah the next round!”

    “Already?” He looks up confused “I never saw that dwarf….”

    “My rebuke has him scurrying, fast and furious…Drink!… Drink!”

    His eyes drift haphazardly over me. The tankard at his lips as he pauses “Where’s yours.?”

    “Drank! Finished!… I am waiting on you!” I embellish a wave over the tankards scattered about us.

    He puffs his cheeks,… almost reluctantly lifting the brew in stubborn pride not to be outdone.. I take the chance and glance to the nymph.

    “Eyes to me!” The Satyr slurred his command just before the extra brew hit him and his addled brain, it tipped him over and finally he slumped into drunken wonder, beaten for now.

    I turned my eyes to him as instructed at the same time. For a brief instant the warning glare had flared but dissolved in a wisp as the effect of alcohol hit him. His erection was gone, the spell broken. The aroused man servicing him was disappointed but then turned to another close by. Their needs and goals now, to service their own pleasures. Their lust too great to care who worked on who. All the seeming mass were the same.

    Baylis murmured in his, confused, drunken stupor. “What is happening?”

    “Shhhushhh” injected the  nymph in a steady tone. Her eyes were locked to Baylis. “Look at me Baylis. Look at me

    Baylis nods slowly as his head lurches about to her. “But for this… I would have had you long ago. Such a choice morsel…” His voice hisses,…it’s amazing the clarity of truth in those slurred words.

    “Yes Baylis,” she coos.. “And your reward shall come soon enough”  She reaches for him  Her small delicate fingers cup his cheek., stroking slow.

    “You have done magnificently this night. Perfection,… but now its time to rest… to gain your strength for your greatest performance.”

    “Performance?”,  my question barely slipping from my lips when she signals my silence.

    “It’s time to rest master…to sleep…to sleep..” The soothing tone towards the satyr of her voice is infectious. As she repeats my eyelids flutter with fatigue.

    Baylis mutters in a weakening tone of mimicry “Sleep… yes sleep. … “ I can feel his lids sink slow, the droop of his head bouncing down in silent compliance. Mine was too.

    When Baylis finally nods off I feel the lift of the burden in the moment, my half closed eyes drift to the nymph who already rises  in slow calm. It’s surreal how she moves, a graceful glide of pose as she lifts herself.. regally, though collared and chain her movements suggest  of station no chains could ever subdue.  In the chaos of this room she alone seems to move within a bubble of controlled contentment.

    “It’s about time.I had told you that it took all my patience to let you do what you must. To direct  his focus of things to come upon you.”
    Even in the alcohol fuel dullness of my mind I caught that odd twist of her words. She spoke in a tense of past and futire, blurred in a strange entanglement of the present.

    Yet those  words flow with a voice of sweet tone that dances in excited anticipation. Those enchanting emerald eyes settle on me again as she reaches down to Baylis. I can feel them press again, a clarity sweeps upon me lifting the groggy veil that had nearly taken me. There too, a sense of satisfaction as if this outcome was fully expected.  “We must  move quick,.. upstairs where prying eyes are less likely to see what must be done.”

    I glance about at the mass still consumed within itself. The male rises again from the sea of flexh, his eyes locked to the nymph. I had to concur..

    She is right, the audiance  feed yet upon their own lust,  her untouched presence would only cause the mass to attempt in pulling such a lovely creature into their passion. To linger here merely invites trouble of defending her.  Yet, I am taken somewhat of her presumption of my purpose, as if she mistakenly reads my underlying purpose. With a foot to the predatory lust filled male’s chest I nudge him off balanced and back into the consumption of waiting flesh..

    I shake the fatigue off, my eyes steadying on her. “What performance were you speaking of..”

    “Later… we talk of this later. We need to move from here. Baylis and I  have a room, it will suffice for our needs.” She speaks quickly bending to pull one arm of Baylis over her shoulder, a futile effort to lift the bulk and deadweight of the satyr up.

    I had to grin at how she always overestimated her physical strength. She was so powerful in other ways, that she often made that careless assumption.

    It was an odd stray thought. …

    So unexpected,.. but familiar. Her urging though pushed it aside.

    She gathers the thin chain and tugs on the satyrs hand binding her to him.

    “Now,..” there is commanding tone in her voice that none could resist in that moment.

    I grunt, Baylis is too bulky for my tastes to lift and lug, and in his condition, I have other options other than to rub his foul smell of alcohol and sweat over me carrying him. I reach down and clamp to his ankle  and turn dragging him rudely from his performing throne. His thick fur slides easily on the floor as we navigate to the bar and stairs beyond., the nymph by my side carefully stepping over prostrate forms I take no such care and  plow my treasure over them. As we reach the bar I hear her bark a  “Wait.”

    She gathers my walking staff from the counter top and eyes Angus slumped dozing at its foot. It surprises me, she pauses, kneels slight and cups the dwarfs bearded cheek in one hand. Leaning in she whispers too him, too faint for even my sharp ears to catch, yet his eyes pop open, the skewed confused of the alcohol on him until he looks into her eyes. A small smile crosses his face  as she continues that subdued whisper aiding him to his feet. With nary a nod  of acknowledgement to me, Angus wobbles like a duck toward the door under her watchful eyes as she approaches me.

    The nymph pauses before climbing the stairs, “And Angus,” she says,…”be careful out there.”

    Angus nods,… “Aye my lady…” he pauses, swaying a bit and turns slow with serious eyes upon holding to the nymph  “May Gaia guide and protect you in what needs be done.”

    I paid scant attention to them. My mind was wrapped in facing the prospect of ascent of the stairs, the fact a hastily devised plan had come together, a bit tipsy and blurred in a moment of self satisfaction, I was going to take a bit of indulgence in that ascent,  knowing Baylis head would  bounce along that stair length. That just seemed a bonus in the moment.. Something to add to the hangover he would feel. I started up the  stairs feeling quite full of myself as I heard the steady knock of Baylis trailing me upwards.

    But …

    In retrospect…

    I should have caught that….

    Blame it on the alcohol, blame the urgency of the moment, blame the indulgence of success, but I should have caught that final exchange between Angus and this nymph.

    I really,…


    Should have caught those words.


    I unceremoniously dump Baylis onto the big feathered mattress of the bed in his room. It puffs swollen under the impact, then slowly flattens as if exhaling. The satyr snorts, clearing its throat then shifts rocking slight as if to nest onto the covers. I hold my breath there, uncertain enough of Angus’ taunted brew will keep him sedated. The darkness of the room is broken as the nymph lights a candle.

    I turn to her as she approaches the bed. Within the soft candlelight I am taken by her beauty. She looks up to me with that expression one gives a close familiar friend. A warmth of a smile, eyes that seem to twinkle in happiness of seeing a long lost acquaintance. I take in that lovely look, sensing a calmness envelope me tighter than before. I shiver slight at its familiarity letting my eyes drift lower to that metal collar about her neck, the metal shimmers slight in its magic, and  holds a slight hue of color… a bluish silver that lies quiet as if muted.

    “You know what this is don’t you?”  she says weighing my attention..  Her eyes glanced up and registered the emptiness of admittance in my eyes. She pauses waiting for an answer not to come. “It is a  stilling ring,…, It binds the magic within. Renders the captive incapable of acting on their magic. I can neither cast, nor willingly summon any use of it.” I watch her eyes roll ponderingly,  “It has a benefit too, it renders me immune to the magic of others. Yet I cannot deny how frustrating it is to still feel the glowing sense within, yet be denied the simplest of tapping.”

    I was definitely curious, I reached out and nymph bends her neck slightly, offering me exposure to the gracious curve of  the slender lines to confirm such myself. I brushed my fingers slow along the collar, the touch of metal was cold, dampening to the senses. My fingertips have that feeling of dullness, a mull of coldness upon my skin where it brushes against the metal. My fingers trail off it grazing her skin, and I feel the vibrancy of her warmth within, a striking contrast between metal and flesh. Her eyes closed, and body trembled slightly as my fingers drift brief along the silk of her lovely neck. Her breaths deepened, and I needed no insight to simply registrar the excitement that briefest of touch rose in her.

    It was a lingering tempting thought. I swallowed hard, shifting my thoughts to my original intent. I was uncertain how I could free her.

    The plan so hastily crafted had come to fruit. It was never about pursing her for my pleasure, as strange as it seemed my motivations for once were borne on noble wings. Nymphs are creature of the wild, nourished on the elemental magic of the land they inhabit. Denied that they wither within, the spirit fades. is lost until all that remains is an empty husk of beauty. Even that beauty shall fade if denied the fruit of the source of their magic.

    I had seen such within the slave pits of Galathain, a nymph so empty she was soulless animate shell serving the sexual pleasure of her captures. I had held my hand then driven by my vengeance and the pull of the taint. In that tainted lust,  I had used her, felt the emptiness inside, as I satisfied myself,…yet stayed my hand. on a pretext that her owner could lead me further on my quest. I felt that shame, it was an alien guilt of consciousness that  burned within my soul for months..

    Now I stand here feeling a chance of redemption, the taint does not distract me from doing what is right. I feel nothing of it. That fact amazes me, though  the moon is waning  and I  should still feel a pull, no matter how slight until it disappears like the moon into the shadow. Only in the new moon do I breath free of it. Yet here I am, calm in the peace of mind, its gone beyond speculation,.. I know…. she is in some form responsible for that.

    Knowing her fate is likely that of the husk I used before, I feel a sense of responsibility…  that alien sense of consciousness, even if it is but a single fiber of morality, it still exists in me. She and I are bound by fae magic, and as I must stand in eradicating the taint of lycans from the land, I understand that I should never allow another who shares the source of my magic to suffer as that slave in the pits of Galathain did.

    I lift the chain wrist dangling from the wrap of her wrist., it appears fragile, delicate in construction,  light of feel to touch and holds too with much the same dampening effect as the collar. Muted dull,  as if to hide its basic properties.. Wrapping it in my fingers I give it  a powerful jerk. Even though in that touch I know that such action is futile. I feel the magic imbued within it tickle against my skin. The chain holds solid.

    “Your efforts will be of no avail.” She says. There is a heavy frankness of truth in her speech before adding…”Mithril…. like my collar. They are maker bound”

    I fume at the predicament. Maker bound, only the one who sets and binds it has the power to release it. If Baylis chose to he could brush his fingers across the collar and it would fall from her. My mind churns off in a different direction., sorting thru other options/

    “A sorcerer then,… we could easily find one capable enough to break the spell.”

    “Not enough time.” She retorts. “There’s not enough time, he will waken soon enough”  The tone in her voice carried no hint of resignation. It carried itself as a simple fact of recognition of the truth and something more which in the moment I strangely felt this ring served a purpose.

    I glance to the nymph as she moves from me to circumvent about the bed, raising the chain to avoid entanglement with the bedposts. She moves smoothly in natural refined grace, eyes set on me leaving me with a sense that she assesses and measures me to some standard . She slides onto the opposite side of the bed and brushes back her raven hair exposing the collar of silver blue. There was a flatness to the shine,  and if I focused hard enough, the tale tell shimmer of magic about it.

    I grunted very much with growing annoyance. Even though I knew better I drew out my heavy hunting knife out of frustration and folded  the chain over it. This cannot be… I keep telling myself. Not now,…not now. Gods help me find a way. Another sign the taint has lifted, I rarely invoke a prayer of help from those who the rest of the month leave me in a sense of abandonment.

    “It won’t work.” She chirped, it seemed she was almost cheerfully baiting me.

    Which was true,… I knew even before I attempted the futility of sawing at it with my blade.  Baylis snorted, flopping onto his back and the chain pulls from the relaxed grip of my fingers. A whiff of Baylis’ ale soaked hide drifts to me. Its distinct scent fills me, the mixture of ale, and perspiration from his exploits unique and pungent, the heavy scent of sexual juices..

    The nymph giggled  at my expression as I shoved my knife back in its sheathe and froze..

    And time seems to halt.

    How often do we feel that sixth sense kick in, triggered by the senses,  a place, or subtle action, a word spoken  in the right tone, or the feel of light within a room, where time feels like it has overlapped itself,, the instant and moment when you feel you have breathed this moment before. That sense of déjà vu fell on me, the familiarity of patterns of life being revisited. I could not shake that feeling that I have lived this moment, more than once.

    I glanced to the woman, watch as she slides her foot onto the bed. As she leans forward her delicate fingers seemed to glide along those long sensual legs to unlace the ankle straps of her sandal. She smiled coyly as her fingers drifted along her leg as it lifted to allow the sandal to fall free. She knew I loved watching her undress.

    Dammit,… these invading thoughts.

    She turned slight to reach for the other sandal. Lifting her leg slightly, she twists slight, steadying herself with one hand to the bed. The posture tightening the flimsy veil of a shift upon her, causing her breasts to press molded taunt in the silk and clearly expose the nipple jutting against the fabric. My heart flutters at that sight of her in the candlelight. Her eyes darted quick to me and retreated, and I could read the satisfied smile in confirming I was watching.

    I understood the invitation of seduction there. Far too well…like every expression of her face, the look in her eyes they were familiar patterns that seemed to be engrained in my memory.

    “Yet you do not recognize me do you Bear?”

    I froze at the sound of my name. Warningly eying her, “As you name me.“ I respond in proper acknowledgment of the name. “You know of me then?”

    “I know you.”

    “You mean you have heard of me. In tavern talk… gossip..”

    She cut me off, the tinge of annoyance in her tone. “I… know …you”

    I shake my head  as I creep closer,  I am leery of getting closer but can not restrain myself. I have this dreading sense of being a moth bewitched  into the flame.. That gnawing sense of reliving not just an instant, now seems to swell of this whole conversation

    “Nay,… nay. We have not met. I would not forget the likes of one such as you.”

    “I’ll take that as a compliment” Her face skews , lips twisting slightly as  one half folds under her teeth like she always does when she is perplexed. I immediately silently question myself how I knew this “You really do not remember me then. I guess I should not be surprised of that. You are consumed in your vengeance,… your thoughts always constrained by the constant pull of the taint,…You fight,.. you drink,… you fornicate… a cyclic struggle which no doubt represses your memory..”

    My heart dropped at her mention of the taint. Let alone verbatim repetition of the boast of a tag I often blustered when the touch of drink was upon me. Yet I have to admit in all that dread. I did have the briefest of wonder of how someone can make the word “fornicate” sound cheery like a whimsical dance.

    Yet, as my thoughts again twist on how my secret dread of being so openly exposed. I heard her say  “Autumn”

    I looked at her, quite confused and saw her expression dipping into quiet regard. Her face reads plainly of a concern that her words had transgressed too far.

    “I am called Autumn.” She lifts a hand towards me, beckoning. “Come.” She coos. “We have so little time.”

    I nodded knowing this was but a shell of her true name, one does not give that much power to a total stranger. No doubt I must have given a sense of being utterly dense at that point in my thoughts. I respond to her like an obedient dog, barely managing to mutter the proper greeting response as I approach around the bed. “Then I name thee Autumn” That I repeated the statement softly no doubt revealing my inner turmoil of confusion.

    She rose slightly, looking up with doe eyed concern as I towered over her. Her hand reached out  cupping my face with her delicate fingers, a touch that rendered me immobile. I was locked, gazing  into eyes that seem to speak volumes. This close, this personal ….I could feel their depth,… a sense of antiquity in them that belied her youthful appearance, and too that penetrating sense as those eyes peered deep inside my own. The mirror of the soul is found in eyes, I felt the pressure of her stare, the burrowing look as she stripped away the layers of disguise within me. I could not help but feel the raw exposure of my soul standing naked before her, almost in shame she would find that dark secret of the nymphs abandonment…

    I was bewitched, incapable of tearing myself from them. My heart was racing,… though my breaths short drawn slow. I seldom feel fear, but I did now as it joins in the feast with me confusion,  gnawing,  creeping in the depths of my helplessness. She had claimed her magic was nullified, yet it’s clear I am not in control of myself. What was she? Who was she?

    Since that first look, I could feel her… feel her will upon me. I had carelessly disregarded that smothering quell of the taint and let blind curiosity draw me into this. Curiosity …guilt,.. the strike of a thread of fear,…was I lured here,…  powerless to resist. My breaths quicken as the mind races with growing entanglement I fear I face a monster who preys on my weakness of lust..

    Where she touches,  my skin seemed a glow in life, a warmth that radiates and pierces soothingly deeper beneath the leathered hide of my wind toughened skin. I tingled all over, feeling that glowing radiance that spread through my body. Is this the touch of a monster, a demon,… a witch? So soothing, relaxing… my mind swirls in that vortex of overwhelming confusion.

    I could hear her speak, …soft… soothingly.  “We have met,. Many times” It was a statement of absolute conviction, I knew it true.

    My memories still denied  it. Silent screams echo in the turmoil of thoughts and trembling excitement,  barely manifest in a  mutter of reply.

    She drew her face closer to mine lips nearly touching as her head tilted slightly, again weighing… appraising. I felt utterly ensnared in her net of seduction. Helpless…yet never so alive in such a moment,… shivering… the fine hairs of my body standing alert  in anticipation of each sweet breath to caress against my lips.

    Her voice dropped to complete hush of a whisper. “In our dreams,…. We meet in our dreams.”


    Her fingers drift slowly down my neck spreading to feather across sensuous zones there I never knew existed. Falling lower they tug at my jerkins ties, slowly pulling,…loosening the binds to drift there teasing, …taunting the nerves to inflame in that exotic tingle that swept me. My eyes closed and breaths fell into that shallow rhythm of excitement, obedient to her lead as she slowly lifted the jerkin, my arms rising instinctively as the soft leather slid up. Pulling slowly over my head, she stops, my eyes blinded by the leather and I feel her lips again breathing soft and close to mine.

    I am transfixed as stone, incapable of moving, incapable of even forming a kiss to breach that miniscule distance that separates us. Within quicken breaths, my soul screams silently, begging for that touch, but she taunts my inability. The caress of her breath flirts slow, across my lips,  my cheek… along my jaw…returning slow to my lips where she lingers and I feel that first contact, not a kiss but a slight drag of her lip against mine. Again she circles, brushing slow in tracing her pattern.

    Madness of need roots within me. Her touch is familiar, tugging in the depths of  my confused consciousness  She works down in almost a calculated pattern as her lips brush  across erogenous zones of my neck and collar that only an experienced lover would know of.  I find myself looking down at her, unaware of how I slipped the jerkin from my head. My hands reaching for her, but are  barred,.. frozen again from movement as the hang above her, .denied in their need of touch  Her breaths feel more intense as she explores my chest and the nymph brushes her fingers across the lattice of scars across my  chest.

    I hear speak low as she studies them, traces them with finger tips.

    “Such violence…the horrors,….” Her eyes following her fingers as they drift across them, never questioning, reading them like a book. I feel exposed, as if my own body betrays my secrets in some silent way. She looks at the  raking scars of the hellhound, quiet in reflection with eyes moistening as she seems to read the pain that propelled me into that confrontation. When she leans forward again to spill her breath against me I tremble deeper, shaking there under the power of her manipulation, the slightest whisper of a kiss drifts  along the white badge of my internal war. I am vaguely aware she is loosening my trousers,  my mind drifts in a zone of her enchantment., feeling the silent restraint, trembling helpless in my awakened desire. My pants fall to the floor and her touch is on me, pulling slow to stoke my desire.. To say my response was not my own would be a lie. Yet it felt alien, it felt imposed by her will.

    She turns reaching for the slumbering form of Baylis. With the effort of a hefty push she rolls him from the bed to plop to the floor below. Baylis snorts, mumbles, but descends again into the snoring sleep of dreams. With her attention turned again I feel that pull, like a puppet on strings I am lead to lie down to the bed on my back.  She  slides slow across me as Baylis saws  in his deadened oblivion to our actions.

    Settling back to her seat upon me Autumn with a promising lust filled gaze meeting my wanting eyes. She eases the ties of her diaphanous shift she still is adorned in, slow…seductive in reserved effort, letting the flimsy garment to slid deliciously from her to reveal the stunning body which laid behind the veils. Tight formed, with ample breasts sufficient for her lithe body she shimmered there naked in the caress of the flickering candlelight.

    My breath is taken in that moment. I can only watch, tremble in anticipation as she reaches beneath her and draws my hardened shaft between us. Those delicate fingers rise to spread the flower of her sex, and I can see the sexual dew that glistens there as she settles upon me, wrapping those feathered lips about the length of my shaft. The nymph slides slow along me reaching down to my chest to steady herself Rocking, letting her eyes close as she savors the contact as she coats me in her juices. Quickened breaths escape her mouth, slightly parted with each laboring breath as she fans her gathering flaming desires.

    I find a sliver of weakness in her will, and raise my head enough to eye her there skating on my cock, watching with eagerness as she grows ever closer in her action to my broad cap. Her eyes sight to mine, and I can read the gathering storm of lust building, so deep, penetrating. I shudder there, a brief instant sensing that that congealed desire burning radiant there is the same as how others have seen emulating from my own eyes.

    Again Autumn shifts, rising slow after what seemed an eternity of contact. Her hand drifts to my throbbing cockhead and guides my dripping crown to her to the swelling juices of her core. My mouth waters, and I close my eyes, I want nothing more in the moment of existence than to feel that initial penetration,… to revel in that sweet first kiss of her thickened lips to my cock. Gratefully she gives it to me, a creeping contact which crawls slow letting me find that consumption of contact with the folds of her sex in the holiest of worship. I drool at the sensations, so wet, … slick… silken flesh stretching crushing the meaty crown of my cock as it enters, the slow descent as her pussy gapes to accept the bulk of my hardened shaft.

    The nymphs nails dig into my chest as she squirms there feeding me deeper and deeper into her tightness. A slow seductive ride as the  fulfilling whimpers escape her at the bulk engaging her.  My breaths run slow and hard, in that moment I’d  eagerly worshiped forever which of the Gods who would have claimed this as my divined gift. Though it my be my ending, my sacrifice I wrap myself only in the moment of  its passing.She rides me slow sinking deeper and deeper onto the impalement of my manhood until I feel the depths of her press in resistance.

    I open my eyes the slightest to watch her ride me with closed eyes her head thrown back as she is consumed in her grip of her own sensations. Her own eyes sliver into view, meeting mine as she catches my peak. Rolling deliciously upon me she leans forward bracing herself in that clawed grip as those divine lips again fall to linger tortuously close, then fall into bliss of contact of that first kiss. It is a kiss of passion moving upon my own lips, intimate in power…, long,…consuming,… the type of kiss that digs deep into the soul and yanks it forward for a response.

    And I did.

    My lips move against her, mouth parting to accept her entwining tongue. Reflecting to her the flare of desire she has ignited. It’s intensity buckles her will upon me, and my hands slide from the manacles of the imprisonment of her will to grip those hips still moving upon me.

    Autumn breaks that kiss with that contact. Pushing herself back to mount my cock deeper into her. One hand clamps upon mine, the other rises to the cup and squeeze her breasts as she churns on me.

    Her eyes sparkle as she looks down on me licking her lips. Again I feel that trapped ensnarement. It was as if she played that moment of allowance to reposition us. Not that I cared,…, if this was my last act… my trailing moments of life I would wash myself in the experience of its glory.

    Watching her bounce there, watching my cock shimmer in the flooding juices escaping her it fueled my escalating excitement. I groaned and moaned, muscles tight frigid in ability to respond as she fucked me and sent me spiraling quick to the peak. Yet as I found the crest of the peak she grinds down tight upon me. I could not find it.. In that heartbeat her will pressed upon me and quashed the orgasm like a bug as her vagina squeezed my cock in choke.

    I gasped shuddering from the command of her will.

    In that stilled bond I could feel myself stuffed inside her. Feel the fullness, the ecstasy of of that stretch on the girth and tension on the clit. I could sense everything she felt, our bodies trembling in excitement,… and faint echoes  of my own senses which emulated from her. I could feel that she too had been close to orgasm, and only by her will had repressed it. We were melded in that moment, in fused by the power passion and desire.

    And too… a strange cold press of something, a sense of dampening and isolation. I could not put my finger on it, not immediately, until it hit me.

    I could not sense magic that flowed in my body. In that fusion I had fallen under the power of the stilling ring.

    Yet she gave me no time to ponder, Her sex squeezed on me again over and over, then a rippling of contraction as she milked me. Again I trembled. Could I have moved I would have thrashed in those covers. I was though powerless to respond,  the exotic pull of her on me only allowed me to gasp in ecstasy. And with her eyes closed sensing the effect on me echoing to her she led us again to that peak, higher than before again blanketing the  the orgasm in her will.

    We both panted in labored breaths, bodies shaking, quivering there as only her powerful will subdued the release. My mind screams for satisfaction. In the pits of my soul I could feel the primal frustration of the beast. The taint was rooted in the physical, rooted in the magic, and in the decades  it had rooted deep as a part of me. That taint, the power of the corrupted animal had burrowed its dark force into the very heart of my being. Denied its pleasure, denied its binds to the magic it raged, chained and shackled to suffer the torment. Over and over she drove us there to that edge Riding me harder and with each pinnaclled breaching cliff seemingly higher than before.

    Each time she imposed her will the beast raged, and each pressing suppression took more and more effort as her own will strained to subdue us. My hips roll now under her, churning as she has allowed me that splendor to fuck back at her thrashing ride. Yet the fury of the beast grew as it thrashed at its imprisonment pressing back with its own will.

    She led us to a precipice of heights all seemed ethereal. Our bodies and souls fused beyond the laws of the world. Within that temporal place,  there, our magic founds its freedom. Severed of control magic seeks itself,  coalescence  in unity. I could sense the tendrils of it spread throughout body seeking its merger. Spreading, growing finding that channel of  our union to funnel. My body shuddered as if in orgasm as it weaved through my loins  into her. I could feel it meeting hers within the womb, pooling and growing, entwining as our powers weaved together. I feel her shudder in her response  to the exquisite melding.

    We were at this point a singularity, lost completely in the timeless passion of the cosmos.

    Autumn spoke low to me as we wavered on that edge of brilliant release.

    “Tell me you want to cum…” The press of the nymphs will smothers me.

    Yes, yes my mind screamed… I do not know if I answered aloud. Just let me do it.

    The press of will again. “Tell me you want to empty  your seed into this tight wet pussy”

    “YES”… the beast within yanked hard within its confines. The harder she pressed the fiercer it fought back.

    I could feel her finger press against my abdomen,  quaking it dug sharp into my skin flowing as she traced a pattern hard into my skin. Her will again dug deep.

    “Tell me you want to breed me”


    “NO! TELL ME! SAY IT. YOU WANT TO BREED ME”  She pressed deep into my soul.

    She pressed too far… too hard. Shredding into the soul with the weight of her  words until all that remained was the will of the beast. She startled in its discovery.

    And more so at its response.

    The beast shattered its shackles.


    Tha thump, tha thump tha thump

    It was a heartbeat… strong… racing so fast in my chest I thought it would burst.

    Tha thump, tha thump tha thump


    That was my first thought.

    I gasped, sucking air like a drowning man.

    Spasms ripple throughout every muscle of my body. I was  rendered helpless in the moment. My mind a heavy cluster of cobweb thoughts.

    I focused on what I could.


    Tha thump, tha thump tha thump

    Slow… steady.. regain control

    At least I started stringing a train of thoughts now.



    Tha thump,..        tha thump…    tha thump

    I open my eyes but the world is blur, obscure in a halo of haze, …


    Tha thump,..        tha thump…    tha thump

    Focus on your senses,…

    I hear snoring….

    Baylis,… good…still asleep… I would be in a world of hurt if he woke to find me in this condition.

    My eyes close again, it was best to defer distractions until I found some clarity of thought.

    Like why am I in this condition?

    Think,… Think….

    Tha thump,..        tha thump…    tha thump

    I blank my mind and let a chaotic string of images  filter thru as my heartbeat began a slow descent.

    The was a woman,… nymph… sexy….yes… sexy…she lured me here…., magically?… thoughts stumble, grasp indiscriminately. No…no… a ring… shiny bright…she named it a stilling ring… severed the link to magic.

    So how?

    Damn,… how?

    I drift in fresh memories…

    Without magic?,… emphath,… telepath?… pision?… She was powerful,,, she had manipulated Baylis in his drunken state in a heartbeat,… manipulated me… intoxicated… yes weakened of will… it was her way in. The sliver of a crack to enter in my mind, root her control…to use me… For a purpose… Gods what!

    Think,… think…

    She made me dance to her will,… controlled me,… over and over,  peeling back the layers of what I was as my resolve weakened. Physically,…, mentally,… spiritually….magically .Coring me out until she found the only part of me which had not submitted to her will. The beast,… the lycan.. it was a part of my soul that stood to itself. Pure in its corruption,…  pure in its own will…. Pure in its motivation of actions.

    Yes,… think she wanted you to say something… repeat it. What was it.

    The words formed again in my mind.

    “TELL ME! SAY IT!. YOU WANT TO BREED ME!” her trembling voice  rose in those memories.

    Yeah…I was going to say it. Yes… yes…

    Think you ass… you would have said anything… you wanted to cum.

    Yes,…I would have said anything…and  just repeated…. without an edge of truth.

    But the lycan, why the very essence away that controls it? It is what Aldaris taught me, my will that holds it in check, If that is gone, there is but the beast… with its animal instincts of survival,…to hunt,… kill,… feast

    And propagate… the only part of me that would respond truthfully in that moment.

    The lycans would have its memories, and though they were mine it was a place I dreaded approaching.  In the still dark of the night they would bubble to the consciousness, things that I had done in that rage after Aldaris’ death. Things that I had allowed to happen. Swallowing hard I lead myself again to that pit of memories.

    What did I do?

    I see a snippet,… a hand launching to Autumn’s throat. Shock, surprise at the ferocity written complete on her face. A twist and turn,… she is beneath it,… us… me. Her finger clenching the sheets… She shakes barely containing herself… fierce determination in her eyes as she barks something at him,…. Me

    “Tell me…” She mouths certainly those words

    That hand…holding her yet by the throat.

    My hand… human…not the fierce claws…. Human….He could not transform… the stilling ring… the magic drawn in union within her,… the lycan was  severed from the magic necessary to transform

    I have to admit all in all if this her plan… a clever woman she was.

    I strained to hold into those thoughts and not drift careless into darker memories.

    What… what then?

    Closed eyes…. Dark…savoring the taking.

    Damn… what did he feel?

    Satisfaction… the joy of mating…the meteoric rise to the orgasm. Pride… at overcoming her. A flash eyes open snarling,… drooling,… boasting… in a growling, snarling hiss of words…

    “Oh you are so right bitch, I will breed you.” The look on her face,… wide mouthed,… eyes rolled back
    A sense of that orgasm releasing…. Whiteness.



    Something overwhelming the mind,…Crashing on in so hard it shocked mind and body.

    Magic,… that’s what it is….

    Rushing in,…mine… hers swelling even more powerful until my  body  felt it could burst. A sharp pain on my abdomen…

    Where she scratched…a rune?…. A ward…barrier…

    AHHHHH… now that orgasm…. I bathed in the memories felt the fullness of magic burn in me until it collapsed and rushed into my loins, boiling over the flood of seed pulsing in release. The orgasm prolonged ,… intense,… every muscle in my body locked and clenched., then…. Nothing.

    So I passed out…The orgasm of orgasms and I missed it.

    I felt a puddle of envy and disappointment.

    Something still seems wrong…. Incomplete?. I linger in that concern.

    No Missing. She’s not in my head.  It’s just me….

    I feel him gnawing there content,… pressing against the shackles. My dark companion.

    The taint.

    I don’t feel her.

    I sense a body close… very near.


    Another flash of vision right before all goes white. Autumn… The look on her face,… wide mouthed,… eyes rolled back
    My hand at her throat

    My hand!


    The kick of empty dread hits me.



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