The dagger missed by a quarter-inch.
Cirilla knew this because she watched the silver-haired woman tilt her head —just barely, just enough, and ever-so-precisely so— and the blade kissed past her cheek close enough to shear a strand of that impossibly lustrous hair before burying itself hilt-deep in the scorched and shattered tree trunk several feet behind her. The woman didn't good sense to flinch! Didn't even blink! Just stood there with one hip cocked and an infuriating little smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, as if someone had just tossed her a flower instead of six inches of sharpened steel.
That was bad. That was very, very bad.
And gods, if she didn't hate this part, but it was also very sexy.
Why, oh why, did Ciri have to have a thing for competent women, exotic women, and competent exotic women?
She blamed her mentor! It was all his fault!
Damn you, Geralt!
"Rude~!" the woman said, no, drawled. The single word dripped from her lips like warm honey. Thick and rich and dark and carrying an undercurrent of something that made the hair on Cirilla's arms stand on end and her breath catch slightly in her chest for the best and worst of reasons.
Her companion, a rather fetching dark-haired half-elf wearing what damn well looked like someone else's pants and shirt, took the attack a little bit less sanguinely.
"What…she just threw a knife at you!" the half-elf sputtered, scrambling to put herself between the silver-haired woman and Cirilla with her spear raised, green eyes wide and furious. "Are you insane, Sylvanas?! Why are you being so blasé about this?!"
Ciri's hand was already on the hilt of her second dagger —her last one, damn it all, she'd need that first one back if she wanted to be able to fight properly— but she didn't draw it. Not yet. Because the silver-haired woman hadn't attacked, hadn't so much as shifted into a combat stance, and she hadn't survived this long by being stupid. Reckless, absolutely. Impulsive, gods yes. But not stupid, and attacking someone who'd just casually dodged a thrown blade at kissing distance without so much as a change in heart rate was the kind of stupid that got you killed.
Especially when the half-elf was looking all too prepared to mount her head on that damn spear if she tried to touch her friend, 'Sylvanas' apparently, again.
"Because, my sweet 'Heart, it's entirely understandable for one of our fellow tadpole-carriers to be a little bit on edge. Especially since she doesn't have anything to wear and probably hasn't gotten much sleep, by the looks of things." Sylvanas responded, laying a restraining hand on the half-elf's arm as her eyes swept over Ciri's body with visible approval. "Gorgeous, though, isn't she? What's your name, lovely?"
Ciri's jaw tightened, even as her cheeks heated. The compliment landed exactly the way it was probably meant to —a disarming little verbal caress designed to put her off-balance— and the worst part was that it was working. Not because she was helpless in the face of a bit of flattery, thank you very much, but because the woman delivering it had the kind of voice that made flattery sound like an objective assessment of reality. And because those crimson eyes, sweeping over her with the kind of frank, unapologetic hunger that most people tried to hide, were doing things to the pit of her stomach that she really didn't have time for.
Also because, and she would die before admitting this out loud, the woman smelled incredible. That scent she'd caught on the wind minutes ago, the one that had drawn her through the scorched underbrush like a fish on a line? It was coming from her. Something warm and dark and intoxicating, like spiced wine and woodsmoke and sex, all layered together in a way that she'd never before -and probably never would again- smelled. It filled her lungs and settled there, making her pussy tingle and her thighs shift against one another ever-so-slightly, which was obscenely absurd under these circumstances.
"Cirilla, Cirilla Silvershield." she said, because there wasn't all that much point in lying, not to mention that her family name could likely provide her quite a bit of protection, depending on what these people were. "Ciri, if you'd prefer. I certainly would. You have tadpoles as well, then?"
"We do indeed. Courtesy of the same nautiloid that left this lovely scar across the landscape. The same as you, I imagine." Sylvanas gestured broadly at the devastation around them, that infuriating smirk softening into something that might, if one were feeling somewhat generous, be called sympathetic. "I'm Sylvanas Windrunner, and this protective little spitfire is Shadowheart. She won't actually skewer you, probably, as long as you don't throw anything else sharp at me."
"I make no such promises, thank you very much." Shadowheart muttered, though the spear's point did waver and rise, until it was resting butt-first on the scorched earth at her feet.
Ciri let out a slow breath through her nose, willing the tension out of her shoulders even as her fingers reluctantly released the hilt of her remaining dagger. Not because she trusted these two —she didn't, not remotely, not yet. She was in a rough situation, but she wasn't stupid.— but because the pros and cons of the situation were almost painfully clear. She was naked, armed with a single blade, exhausted from a sleepless night spent huddled behind a rock formation while things with too many legs skittered through the wreckage nearby, and she had a parasitic worm burrowing through her brain. These two, at minimum, had weapons, clothes between them, and appeared to have been working together long enough to have developed something resembling a functional dynamic.
Also, Sylvanas had just casually dodged a thrown dagger at near-point-blank range, which meant that picking a fight with her at the moment was roughly equivalent to headbutting a brick wall and hoping that it would turn to dust. Even if she was a vampire now, even if she was -and had always been- a deadly fighter with a talent for short-range teleportation magics, something deep inside shuddered at the thought of trying to fight the woman standing in front of her.
"Silvershield, hmm?" Sylvanas repeated, and something flickered behind those crimson eyes. Recognition? Interest? Both? Ciri couldn't tell, and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Most people were easy to read, at least in broad strokes. A twitch of the mouth, a shift of weight, the way someone's hands moved when they talked…she'd been reading those tells since she was old enough to form words. But this woman's body language was just...perfectly controlled. Not stiff, not rehearsed, but controlled in the way that only someone supremely confident in their own skin could manage. "As in the Silvershield family of Baldur's Gate?"
"The very same." Ciri lifted her chin, squaring her shoulders and her jaw, blushing again as the elf's eyes dipped slightly to admire her breasts as they shifted with the movement. "You're familiar with my family?"
"Only by reputation." came the response, bland and hiding unspoken details, before a smile creased red lips. "So, lovely Silvershield, would you care to join us for an adventure? We've tadpoles to purge, goblins to kill, and flirtations to enjoy."
"Flirtations." Ciri repeated flatly, her tone carefully stripped of any inflection that might imply or betray the way that word had landed somewhere warm and unwelcome in the vicinity of her lower belly. "You're propositioning me while we're standing in the wreckage of an alien ship, with parasites in our heads, and I haven't eaten in nearly two days."
"Precisely, yes." Sylvanas confirmed with absolutely zero shame, smiling brightly. "I find that life-threatening circumstances are an excellent backdrop for romance. Really sharpens the appreciation for beauty, wouldn't you agree?"
"Barely known her a handful of minutes, the first thing she tries to do is stick you with a blade, and you're flirting with her as much as you do me." Shadowheart grumbled, jealousy warring with interest as she glanced between the two of them, eyes lingering on both of their bodies with as much heat in her eyes as aggravation. "You are a shameless woman, Sylvanas."
"I never claimed otherwise, love. Quite the opposite, really. After all, shamelessness is a virtue when you've as much as I do to be shameless about." she replied, gesturing at herself with a flourish that could only be called theatrical and enticing, before turning those damned eyes back onto Ciri. "Of course, the two of you have quite a bit to be shameless about as well. So what do you say, Ciri? Care to tag along with a pair of beautiful women and reap the benefits, or would you rather avoid my shamelessness and go it alone in this big, bad, beastie infested forest with nothing more than a pair of daggers and what the gods gave you at birth?" she paused for a moment, and somehow Ciri knew -mostly from the look in her eyes and the way they slowly swept across her- what she was going to say before she said it. "Which is nothing short of lovely, by the way, if I hadn't made that point earlier. Simply exquisite."
Ciri stared at the woman for a long, hard moment, her jaw working rhythmically as pride and pragmatism fought a vicious little war behind her tightly-pressed lips. Pride, naturally, wanted her to tell this insufferably attractive lunatic to go fuck herself —preferably with that spear her companion was carrying— and march off into the forest with her head held high and her dignity intact. Pride was loud, and proud, and deeply offended by the way her body was reacting to a complete stranger's honeyed words and perverted, wandering eyes.
Pragmatism, on the other hand, pointed out that she was naked, starving -for food and blood both-, alone in unfamiliar territory with a brain parasite and no allies, and that the last time she'd let pride make decisions for her, she'd ended up chained to a wall in a vampire's lair getting her neck bitten by a woman who looked disturbingly similar to the one standing in front of her -they weren't the same, but gods it was uncanny! Though, Ciri had to admit, save for being a human she probably didn't look to different herself, now- and waking up with an all new craving.
Pragmatism wonl, of course. Pragmatism always won, in the end, because Ciri was her mentor's student before she was anything else, and Geralt hadn't raised a fool. A reckless, impulsive, occasionally suicidal adrenaline junkie with a weakness for dangerous women, absolutely, but not a fool.
"Fine…" she grumbled the concession, and the mix of emotion in the word was tangled enough that she wouldn't be deciphering them anytime soon. "But I have conditions."
"Oh, I do so love a woman with standards." Sylvanas practically purred, and Ciri had to swallow heavily to keep herself from reacting to the way that voice sank into some very distracting places. "Go on, then. Name them."
"First, you keep your hands to yourself unless I explicitly say otherwise or it's absoloutely necessary. Second, I get clothes before we go anywhere that isn't directly between here and wherever clothes can be found. Third," she held up three fingers, her eyes narrowing as she met the gleaming, crimson orbs of the other woman dead-on, refusing to look away even as something in the back of her skull whispered that maintaining eye contact with a predator was either very brave or very stupid. "You tell me what you are. Because you're not just an elf, Windrunner. I've met elves. I've killed elves. I've—" she cut herself off before she could say fucked elves, because that wasn't information this woman needed, even if the knowing glint in those damnable eyes suggested she'd filled in the blank herself. "You don't smell like an elf. You don't move like an elf. And no elf I've ever encountered could dodge a blade at that range without flinching."
Sylvanas' smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened, curving into something that was less 'charming rogue' and more 'satisfied predator that likes you but isn't any less dangerous because of it.' She tilted her head, that impossibly silver hair catching the weak morning light and throwing it back in ways that hair had no business doing, and regarded Ciri with an expression that was equal parts amused and appraising.
"You're right. I'm not just an elf." she confirmed, in spite of the hissed, wordless expression of displeasure from the raven-haired girl standing beside her. "I'm a succubus. Well, succubus-adjacent. You could consider the succubi you learned about a lesser cousin. Elven body, demonic extras. The wings, the tail, the increased magical power and enhanced sense, the insatiable appetite for beautiful women, the consumption of blood and cum…all a package deal, not dissimilar to your own."
Ciri's stomach dropped, even as something electric and almost entirely unwelcome. Not from fear —well, not entirely from fear, at any rate— but from the sheer brazenness of the admission. Most people, when confronted about their nature or secrets, deflected. Lied. Obfuscated behind layers of half-truths and misdirection until the questioner either gave up or got close enough to get bitten. Sylvanas, instead, had just... told her. Openly. Casually. As if confessing to being a demonic creature of seduction and enthrallment was nothing more remarkable than announcing she preferred wine over ale.
And that last bit. Not dissimilar to your own.
The impact of those words was a heavy one, and she felt the blood drain from her face even as her fangs —still new enough that she sometimes cut her own tongue on them by accident— seemed to throb in some sort of sympathetic surprise.
"You can smell it on me, then?" Ciri said, and it wasn't a question. Her voice came out flatter than she'd intended, stripped of all bravado as much as it was of any deflection, because there wasn't much point in pretending otherwise. Not when the woman in front of her had just casually announced that she could sense what Ciri was. Not when those crimson eyes —so similar to the ones that had looked down at her while fangs sank into her throat three nights ago— were watching her with an expression that held no revulsion, no fear, no righteous fury. Just... curiosity, and no small amount of desire, of hunger and interest.
"Yes, I can tell. With more than one sense at that. You're freshly turned, too. Can't be more than a few days, hmm?" Sylvanas asked, the question more an invitation for elaboration, and Ciri grimaced and waved one hand through her hair in silent negation to do just that. Humming softly to herself, Sylvanas shrugged. "Keep it to yourself for now, then, until you trust us. In the meantime, I'll let you feed from me…"
"You most certainly will not!" Shadowheart snapped, reintroducing herself to the conversation -having been looking increasingly unhappy the longer the conversation dragged on- with a look that had Ciri wondering if the plainly-dressed beauty intended to actually stab her. "We don't know this girl, and you mean to let her feed on you so quickly?!"
"Relax, 'Heart," Sylvanas said, and there was something in her tone that Ciri hadn't heard from her yet. A gentleness and affection that was very much at odds with the sort of playful, teasing attitude she'd been displaying so far. The silver-haired succubus turned to face her companion fully, one hand rising to cup the half-elf's jaw with a tenderness that somehow seemed obscene, despite -or perhaps because of- the chastity of the action. "She's starving, love. I can see it in the way her pupils are dilated, the way she keeps swallowing even though her mouth is dry. A freshly-turned vampire that hasn't fed properly is a danger to everyone around her, including us. Especially us, if we're going to be traveling together and sleeping in close proximity. She doesn't deserve that, and I won't put either of us at risk by forcing her to fast either."
Shadowheart's jaw worked, her green eyes flicking furiously between the two of them, before she growled low and abruptly gave Sylvanas a fierce kiss on the lips. A kiss that was brief, hard, and somehow a mixture of possessive and submissive -especially when Sylvanas started to respond- in a way that made it painfully clear to everyone present that she was staking a claim, and when Shadowheart pulled back, her green eyes were blazing as she turned them back towards Ciri.
"Fine. As long as she remembers that I'll turn her to ash the moment I think she's a threat to you." the half-elf bit out, turning and stalking away. "Now come with me, I want to talk to you about making promises without thinking them through…"
"Ciri, would you give us a moment? We'll see to your clothes as soon as we get back." Sylvanas offered a bit absently as she followed, and Ciri shook her head as she watched them leave, bemused and baffled and wondering what in the Hells she was getting herself into.
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The moment Shadowheart and I were out of unenhanced eyesight and earshot, she rounded on me with a glower that was as much fire as it was fear.
"Grow your cock back!" she demanded, tossing aside her spear and levelling a finger at me. "Because if that girl is going to be with us, she'd damn well going to know that I was here first!"
I blinked.
Then I blinked again.
Then I processed what she'd just said, and a slow, incredulous grin spread across my face that I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to. Which I didn't. Not remotely. Not even a little bit.
"Shadowheart," I said, and my voice came out with a quality that was somewhere between reverent and absolutely delighted. "Did you just demand that I grow my cock back so that you could fuck me before the new girl gets a chance?"
The flush that erupted across her face and down her neck was nothing short of magnificent. It was the deep, vivid crimson of a woman who had just heard her own words played back to her and was only now fully appreciating the implications of what she'd said in the heat of the moment. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, and for a glorious half-second she looked like she was going to say yes, before her nerve failed her entirely.
"Hmph, you're not that lucky! You've a great deal more charming to do before I'll be letting you between my legs. Be happy with the blowjob I'm willing to give you. That silver-haired tart can smell you on my breath and be lucky to get that close!"
Holy shit, jealous Shadowheart was adorable. And kinky, not to mention eager. I certainly wasn't going to complain, though I had to wonder if she'd be this much of a possessive brat all the time, or if she'd settle down once she saw more girls didn't lessen my affection for her at all. I also wasn't going to risk her changing her mind, which is why a deft manipulation of my bodysuit had my large, rapidly hardening cock flopping into view.
"Then get on your knees, baby girl." I purred, enjoying the spike of arousal that washed through her, more powerful and pure than anything the goblins had been able to generate.
Shadowheart's eyes dropped to it, and the way her breath caught —audible, involuntary, and accompanied by a visible dilation of her pupils— was worth every bruise, burn, and near-death experience of the past three days combined. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them in a motion that was so instinctive, so reflexive, that she probably didn't even realize she'd done it. Then her eyes snapped back up to mine, defiant and flushed and wanting all at once, and the contradiction between her squared shoulders and the way her thighs were pressing together was exquisite.
"Don't look so smug about it," she muttered, even as she sank to her knees on the forest floor with a an anxious eagerness, her hands reaching up to cradle my length. Both of us moaned as her fingers glided tentatively across my shaft, and she stared unwaveringly at the first bead of pre-cum that was coaxed from my tip for a long, long moment before leaning forward and collecting it on her tongue.
The taste hit her tongue and something behind her eyes went white-hot and electric, a full-body shudder rolling through her from crown to core as the flavor registered. Salt and musk and something else, something deeper, richer, that had no business tasting as good as it did and yet somehow tasted better than anything she'd ever put in her mouth.
"Oh, gods." she breathed against the head of my cock, the words barely more than a vibration, and the way her fingers tightened fractionally around the base told me everything I needed to know about how that first taste had landed. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, dark lashes fanning across flushed cheeks, before they opened again with a heat in them that was leagues beyond anything I'd seen from her thus far. And the desire, the lust, the tantric energy I could feel wafting off of her? Nothing short of incredible. Though it was nothing compared to the feeling I got when she put that heat and desire and pure, undiluted lust to good use by taking my cock into her mouth.
The sound she made in response was just as sweet to my ears as my own was hopefully to hers. The feeling of her mouth steadily taking more and more of my inside was nothing short of incredible, and I didn't even try to resist the urge to weave my fingers into her hair to take control of of the moment. Something that, though I didn't doubt she'd complain about it later, I could sense she enjoyed immensely. Brat she might be, but submissive she most certainly was.
"You're such a good girl, 'Heart. You feel so good. Use your tongue, baby, hum a little. The vibrations will feel good for me." I praised, encouraged, and instructed her with the same breath, feeling her pleasure at all three and the way she changed her efforts at my guidance.
The wet heat of her mouth, the tentative but increasingly confident swirl of her tongue along the underside of my shaft, the soft vibration of her moan traveling through sensitive flesh. It was almost enough to make me forget that we had a freshly-turned vampire sitting a hundred yards away, probably wondering if the two idiots who'd invited her along had wandered off to get eaten by an intellect devourer.
Even if she had quite possibly heard what Shadowheart and said, and more likely than not could smell what was going on right this moment. Which, as it happened, was hot as hell. The idea of a naked Ciri listening to me fuck Shadowheart's mouth while the girl reinforced her status as 'first girl'…
That thought made it nothing short of impossible to forget, and I'm pretty sure I actually got a little harder. Of course, unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to enjoy this quite as much -or, rather, quite so long- as I would of otherwise hoped. It was already the third day since I'd woken up in this world, the second full day since we'd crashed. Lae'zel could very well get herself killed if we didn't catch up to her, and there were plenty of other events that hide time limits to them as well. I'd probably have some flexibility, fate and all that, but it wouldn't be unlimited.
Which meant that, sadly, that I couldn't spend nearly as long as I would want luxuriating in the feeling of fucking Shadowheart's eager -and increasingly skillful- little mouth.
So instead of drawing things out the way she deserved, I made a promise to myself to make it up to her and took full control of the moment. I guided her head with gentle but firm pressure, feeling the way she responded to being directed, the way her throat worked around me as she took more and more with each bob.
"That's it, baby. Just like that. You're doing so well for me." The words came out thicker and rougher than they had before, and the throaty moan that vibrated through her in response to the praise nearly undid me right then and there. Her hands had found their way to my hips, fingers digging into the exposed skin where the bodysuit had retracted, and the tiny crescents of pain from her nails only sharpened the pleasure into something almost unbearable.
She was getting bolder now, her initial tentativeness giving way to something hungrier, more determined. The flat of her tongue dragged along the sensitive underside with deliberate, firm strokes, and when she pulled back to swirl it around the crown in a way that felt almost worshipful, I realized that it was a damn fine thing that I was a sex demon. Otherwise, this girl would end up sucking my soul out through my dick and leaving me as a withered husk by the side of the road.
…would be a hell of a way to go though.
"We can't take our time, sweet 'Heart, so I want you to swallow it all, okay? I want you to swallow it all and then, later tonight, I'm going to make you scream for me, alright? I'll make sure you feel better than you've ever felt before, so be a good girl and swallow everything for me!" I told her, not asking permission or forgiveness in the least, and I felt her arousal spike even higher at the orders I was giving her, the statements of what was going to happen.
Her physical response, meanwhile, was to take me even deeper than she had thus far, throat working around me in a way that had my fingers tightening in her hair and my hips rolling forward of their own accord. The sound that came from her was muffled, obscene, and utterly perfect, a wet and desperate noise that spoke to just how much my newly-minted lover truly wanted this, no matter what had been the impetus for all of this.
And then she did something that, despite how entirely lacking in pure sexual implication, almost had me blowing my load right there: she looked up at me. Those beautiful green eyes, glassy and watering slightly from the effort, locked onto mine from below with an expression that was equal parts defiant and devoted, burning with a hunger that had nothing to do with food and a determination that was enticing.
Then she smiled, as best as one could smile with a dick filling their mouth and throat.
It broke me.
Not in any dramatic, world-ending sense, of course, but in a very real and intimate way. The only way I could have held back with her looking like that, would be to deliberately use my powers over sex to magically inhibit myself. Something that I wasn't remotely interesting in doing, which is why I tightened my grip on her hair and started to cum, filling her waiting mouth with a deep and heartfelt groan of bliss.
She swallowed, just like I'd told her to, and came when she did it. Tantric energy poured out of her and into me like a flood with every drop she drank, every pulse of pleasure that rippled through her, and her throat worked around me with a determination that bordered on dedication as she moaned and whimpered in pleasure around my length. Each eager swallow sent another ripple of pleasure through me, aftershocks leaving my breath shuddery and my grip in her hair loosening from commanding to cradling, fingers shifting from control to gentle, appreciative strokes through sweat-dampened raven locks.
When I finally slipped free of her mouth, the sound somehow obscenely loud in the quiet of the forest, Shadowheart sat back on her heels with her lips swollen and glistening, her chest heaving, and an expression on her face that was doing truly terrible things to my ability to keep us on any sort of schedule. She looked wrecked in the best possible way: flushed from her hairline to collarbone, her pupils now blown so wide that only a thin ring of jade remained, and her lips parted just enough to show the faintest gleam of moisture still clinging to the corner of her mouth.
She licked it away a moment later, with a slow, deliberate sweep of her tongue that was absolutely, unequivocally intentional. I couldn't resist letting one hand drift from being tangled in her hair down to her cheek, cradling it as my cock half-covered her face.
"There…" she said, her voice rough and throaty, but also nothing shortly of smugly satisfied as she pressed herself against my palm, half-nuzzling it and my length alike. "Now she'll know that I was here first. That I'm yours."
"You're mine." I confirmed immediately and without reservation, enjoying the way she glowed both visibly and magically as a result. "My good girl, my sweet 'Heart, and I'll make sure you have a wonderful night tonight. But as much as I'd like us to spend all day like this, I need you on your feet. We need to get back to Ciri and explore the area more. Before we do that, though, would you like a suit like mine? It comes with a few…interesting features, it will mark you as mine and help keep you safe. We can give your clothes to Ciri."
"A suit like yours…?" she repeated, and the way her gaze lingered on the way the material molded to every curve and line of my body told me that she was weighing the aesthetic merits alongside the practical ones. "You mean this... whatever this is. The thing that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination while technically covering everything."
"That's the one. Though yours would be keyed to you, obviously. Fitted perfectly, moves with you, won't restrict your casting or your movement." I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, grinning abruptly. "Its not as good as having you naked all of the time, but it's the next best thing~!"
"Pervert…" she mutters, the word fonder and warmer than it had ever been before. "And that will leave Cirilla wearing these things, and if we ever run into that damned gith again, it will be naked. While I'll be wearing magical armor given to me by you."
Not exactly the best reason, and I was really starting to get the impression that Shadowheart had something of an issue when it came to feeling like she had value to those around her. Thanks to the Sharrans, obviously, the bastards that they were. It would take some time to train that out of her, help her realize that she was far from worthless. Or, rather, help her accept that she was far from worthless.
At my instruction she stripped, preening slightly as I took a moment to drink in the sight -which would never, I knew, get old- before gasping softly as I cupped her sex. She was opening her mouth to say something, a mix of scathing and flirtatious if I had to guess, before gasping against as a bodysuit of her own bloomed, spreading across her body and wrapping skin-tight. Which was also a sight I took in for a moment, as she tested her range of motion and tested the feel of the 'fabric' with a look of awe on her face, before gathering her discarded clothes into my arms.
"Come on, let's get going. You can try out some of the features later."
[Congratulations! For seducing your first Companion, you've gained a Bronze Ticket!]
[Congratulations! For receiving your first Blowjob, you've gained a Bronze Ticket!]
[Curse Progress: Exhibitionist (1/3)
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Lae'zel, devoted daughter of Mother Gith and Servant of God-Queen Vlaakith, Warrior of Creche K'liir, was…not in the best situation. And, to her immense aggravation, it was her own damned fault. First, getting trapped in that crude, wooden-and-rope trap -more Vlaakith-be-damned goblins, no doubt, friends of those that she'd killed after leaving those two elves-, something that had been plenty humiliating in and of itself.
Then she'd had those damnable 'teeth-lings' poking and prodding at her, before she had managed to break through the bottom of the cage and scare them off. Unfortunately, it was in doing so that she'd gotten herself into the position she was in now: slumping against a small cliff-side with a broken ankle.
She'd lacked the distance, the height, required to safely roll with the impact of her fall, and while she'd managed to avoid a truly crippling injuries, she had neither the magical talent nor the physical tools required to deal with the injury she couldn't avoid.
The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she looked up quickly, wrapping her hand tightly around the hilt of the magical greatsword she'd…secured from where it had lain on the beach after their escape from the nautiloid. Then she swore, under her breath, as she recognized two of those that had found her. The self-same elves that she had abandoned on the beach, and she growled in her chest at the sight of the black-haired one grinning in satisfaction at the site of her plight.
From bad to worse, she grumbled to herself as they drew closer. She'd almost rather not being healed, if it meant dealing with the girl's taunts. But only almost, and if nothing else, their survival -and apparent recruitment of another infected- meant they might prove useful in finding this 'Zorru' and wringing the information required to find the nearby creche from him.
A few taunts was a tolerable price to pay for salvation…
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The Votes currently available on Patreon:
1. Head to Waukeen's Rest
2. Head to the Grove
3. Confront the Cultists in the Grove Tunnel.
4. Confront the Cultists in the Ruins of Moonhaven.