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Subject: Wulf: Nemesis 3/5 (m/f, m/f/f/f, f/f, cons. s&m)
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Thae’Lynn
	The interior of Duchess N’Quy’s tent was lit with a violet
light that deepened shadows and cast warm, dark rays into every
corner. Tendrils of dreamsmoke drifted through the air, combining with
fragrant incense and the smell of exotic oils. Presently the room was
occupied by three individuals -- the daemon Mazzor, the pleasure slave
Yawesha'ae and Thae’Lynn herself. The Duchess lounged on her massive
round bed, clad only in a thin black robe, admiring the splendid ebon
roundness of her slave’s buttocks as she lay, face down, beside her.
	Mazzor watched, a look of quizzical interest mixed with
curiosity on his short-muzzled draconian face. For years now,
Thae’Lynn had wondered exactly how her daemonic lover truly felt about
the frenzied couplings of lesser beings like elves and humans, and
now, as she watched his cock grow to gargantuan size and rocklike
hardness, she still had no real answers. The daemon’s organ seemed to
be under total voluntary control, and he seemed to be able to fuck and
orgasm with unlimited capacity. Thae’Lynn herself had never actually
worn him out, though not for lack of trying.
	Thae’Lynn reached for the graceful silver vessel beside the
bed, the enchanted chalice she had helped plunder from the Elven Isles
during the great invasion years ago. It was full to the brim with rare
scented oil impregnated with narcotic herbs and dreamweed. It appealed
to Thae’Lynn to use such a sacred vessel for an entirely profane
purpose,  and as she dripped a few droplets onto Yawesha'ae’s shapely
buttocks, she felt a renewed thrill of the perverse, the forbidden. No
matter how many holy places she defiled, how many relics she used for
profane gratification, how ever much virginal purity she despoiled,
she still felt the faint quickening of her pulse and the touch of
moisture between her legs whenever she did it.
	"Up," she said, quietly. "Give your master a good view."
	Obediently, Yawesha'ae rose up to her knees, her black
buttocks gleaming with a few precious drops of scented oil. She had
once been Thae’Lynn’s best friend, now that her house had sworn fealty
to N’Quy, she was the Duchess’ most favored plaything. She bore
various rings and piercings like Thae’Lynn, but nowhere near as many.
Once possessed of long, lustrous silver hair, she was now totally
shaved, and the line of her naked head, along the shallow arch of her
back the twin globes of her buttocks and columnar thighs was smooth
and picturesque as if drawn by an artist with a single brush stroke.
	Now Thae’Lynn tipped the goblet further, dripping more oil
onto the other woman’s ass, sending a gleaming, golden trail between
them. Yawesha'ae moaned at this, her breath quickening slightly. She
knows what’s coming, Thae’Lynn thought. The little bitch.
	"Is he ready, mistress?" Yawesha’ae asked, voice high and
tight with anticipation. "Is he ready to fuck me?"
	"Hm." Thae’Lynn looked over at Mazzor, his massive organ stiff
and rigid as a stone monolith. He was always ready, she thought. But
did he truly want to fuck, or did he simply enjoy watching the effect
his cock had on his lovers? "He’s ready all right. We need to make you
ready, however."
	"Please," Yawesha’ae said, breathlessly. "Get me ready for his
cock."
	"As my little slave wishes," Thae’Lynn replied. Sometimes she
wondered at Yawesh’s enthusiasm -- she usually preferred her victims
to beg and plead for mercy before she fucked them. The slave’s blatant
masochism and endless desire for her touch was sometimes
disconcerting.
	Not this time, however, Thae’Lynn told herself, rising up on
her knees and taking up position behind Yawesha’ae. She poured more
oil between her slave’s buttocks, liberally this time, savoring the
impassioned moans that she elicited. The oil left a warm,  tingling
sensation, and its narcotic components were absorbed through the skin.
By the time Mazzor decided to finally use that great organ on Yawesh,
she would be in a drug-fogged stupor, all senses enhanced, pleasure
and pain doubled and redoubled.
	Slowly but deliberately, Thae’Lynn slid a hand up Yawesha’ae’s
oil-slick thigh, and up between the taut roundness of her ass. Yes,
she was well oiled up, Thae’Lynn’s fingers glided effortlessly along
the soft black skin.
	"Good, little slave?" she whispered. "Is that where you want
him?"
	"Yes, mistress. Yes, it’s good. Please make me ready for him."
	Thae’Lynn slid her hand faster, oiling every crevice, finally
seeking out the tight portal of her slave’s asshole. A moment later,
she slid a finger inside, and felt Yawesha’ae tense suddenly.
	"Ahhhhhh..." Yawesha’ae sighed. "That feels good, mistress."
	Deeper now... Thae’Lynn slipped her middle finger almost to
the knuckle, feeling initial resistance that melted almost
immediately. She slid her finger out, then in again.
	"Another, slave?" she asked, surprising herself with her own
consideration -- usually she did whatever she liked without asking.
	"Yes, another. Faster, please."
	Thae’Lynn saw no reason not to oblige, adding a second finger
and increasing the pace of her thrusts. A moment later she added a
third, then a fourth, finger-fucking Yawesha’ae’s asshole with
ever-increasing intensity.
	"Ohhhh, yes..." Yawesha’ae sighed. "Yessss... I can hardly
wait until I feel his cock where your fingers are... Yessss..."
	"His cock is considerably more than my fingers, little slave,"
Thae’Lynn warned. 
	"That’s what I want, mistress."
	"Very well, then." Thae’Lynn removed her fingers and beckoned
toward the daemon. He stepped forward, rigid cock gleaming with a
natural lubricant that his skin seemed to exude. The thing seemed far
larger than Yawesha’ae could possibly take, but Thae’Lynn knew that
such appearances were deceiving, and he could actually vary its size
at will.
	"Your slave wishes to be pleasured?" Mazzor rumbled. He seemed
to like to talk in this manner.
	"Well, slave?" Thae’Lynn asked, stroking Yawesha’ae’s smooth,
gleaming head.
	"Yes, mistress," Yawesha’ae said, a hint of apprehension
creeping into her voice. Thae’Lynn smiled to herself. Yawesh knew such
things pleased her -- she was fully familiar with the daemon and his
cock, having welcomed it in every orifice on numerous occasions.
	"Give it to her, Mazzor," Thae’Lynn ordered. "Put your cock
inside her."
	Then she took up the chalice and poured the remainder across
Yawesha’ae’s buttocks and back, rubbing it in, luxuriating in
Yawesha’ae’s moans as the rush of narcotic sensation reached her.
	Instructions issued, she lay back on a large pillow and spread
her legs apart, slipping a finger down to where more than a dozen
silver rings glittered, while a lone ring decorated with a black gem
pierced her clitoris. She was already wet, of course -- such antics
never failed to excite her, and as she watched her vast, winged lover
slip is oversized organ between Yawesha’ae’s buttocks, her arousal
grew greater, more intense. When she touched her clit, she almost came
instantly, but held off, waiting for the right moment.
	Yawesha’ae’s moans changed to a drawn out screech like an
angry cat as Mazzor’s cock found her asshole and slipped in without
ceremony, plunging deeply inside her.
	"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh... Mistress, he’s so... so big..."
	Thae’Lynn reached up and pricked a nipple with a sharpened
fingernail, feeling it swell and strain against her silver piercing.
With her other hand she tugged on her clit, feeling the delicious
sensation of pleasure mixed with pain that always sent her tumbling
into ecstasy. 
	Yawesh’s eyes were half-closed, only whites showing. "Can I
play with myself, mistress?" she asked, voice straining at each
thrust.
	"No," Thae’Lynn hissed. "No, you little cunt. You can’t play
with yourself. You have to sit there and take it until I tell you.
Understand?"
	"Oh, yes. Yes, mistress. Ahhhh..."
	Thae’Lynn so wanted to slap Yawesha’ae’s face, claw her
buttocks as the great cock plowed into her, yank on her nipple rings
and make her scream. But she waited; pleasure delayed, pleasure
delayed. She toyed with her clit and squeezed her breast, flicking out
her long black tongue to lap at her own nipple. Trigon’s modalities
returned to her -- pleasure delayed was pleasure increased. Pain
delayed was pain increased. Pleasure, pain... pain, pleasure. For
many, like Yawesh, they were one and the same.
	Now, for instance. The great, thick cock thrusting up her
tight asshole must be terribly painful, but to see her, one would
think she was in the throes of the purest form of ecstasy.
	Thae’Lynn felt a contraction as her cunt clenched, driven to
the brink of orgasm by the painful tugging at her clit and nipple, and
by the beautiful image of demon and slave before her.
	"Play with yourself, bitch," she gasped, feeling the first
waves. "Play with your clit while he fucks you..."
	Yawesh complied delightedly, slipping a hand behind her,
stroking her wet lips and swollen clitoris as the daemon’s huge cock
continued to pound in and out.
	"Ahhhhhh..." A groan escaped Thae’Lynn’s lips, and a moment
later a second cry of release erupted from her slave.
	"Mistress, mistress... I’m coming... I’m com... com...
Nnnnnnnnngggggghhh..." Yawesh collapsed forward, and Mazzor came down
as well, still slamming his cock into her asshole.
	"Come, daemon," Thae’Lynn ordered, still stroking herself,
feeling another wave rising. "Shoot your come all over us..."
	As always, Mazzor obliged, pulling his great cock out of
Yawesha’ae, and letting it erupt in a sudden gush of hot white semen,
almost instantly covering the twin mounds of the slave’s buttocks, and
splashing across her back. Copious amounts landed on Thae’Lynn’s face
and breasts, and she stroked it into her skin eagerly, feeling another
orgasm wrench her.
	"His come... Oh, it burns... Oh, mistress..." Yawesh’s cries
continued. "It feels so... so good... I’m coming again, mistress..."
Another orgasmic wail followed.
	Thae’Lynn collapsed on the bed, the combination of narcotic
oil, orgasm, and the hot sensation of Mazzor’s semen overwhelming her.
	"Mother of Pleasure," she sighed. "Never, never, never, has
anyone had so much fun while on campaign."
	"Yes, Lady," replied Mazzor, withdrawing into the shadows,
leaving the semen-covered slave in drugged slumber. "Slaying your
enemies seems to increase the intensity of your pleasure."
	"So it does, lover," Thae’Lynn replied, drifting off to sleep
herself. "So it does."

Daedora
	The last survivors of House Yth’ela met in desperate council,
deep within the fortress. Though the upper stories remained in
friendly hands, the lower galleries had fallen. Only the destruction
of the narrow stairways up had prevented N’Quy’s total triumph. Even
this had only bought a little time, for now aerial troops rained
stones and incendiaries on the upper stories, and sappers tunneled up
from below. A few days, perhaps a week, of life remained to House
Yth’ela.
	Daedora’s father, Nuthru, had followed Vomoss into death early
on in the siege. Daedora’s heart still ached for him, but even more so
in the knowledge that everyone else she held dear would also die soon.

	Her mother, Kytthu and Aunt Shadera were the ranking females
now. Both had lost husbands, and both now looked ancient, the weight
of centuries now at last pressing down upon them. Soon, all knew, they
would depart for the Uttermost Lands, where they would dwell with the
Mother of Pleasure for all time. Their departure would be voluntary --
no one in the room expected to be captured alive. 
	"We will fight to the last," Shadera said, her voice a hollow
echo of its former self.  "When the enemy is at the doors of this
chamber, I will cast the final enchantment, and painlessly send us all
to the Uttermost."
	Kytthu raised a hand in protest.  "Shadera, what of Daedora
and the other young ones? Should they not at least be given a choice?"
	Shadera shook her head.  "The N’Quy bitch will not give them
any choice. They will be killed outright, or kept alive for torture.
Imagine what she will have that damned daemon of hers, or that flesh
eating unicorn, do to them? No. We must all go to the Uttermost Lands
together. Our honor demands it."
	Daedora felt a sting of fear and a yawning pit of despair. She
did not want to go to the Uttermost Lands. She did not want to leave
this existence. There were so many things to do, things to see. And
what of her friends, her lovers?
	Early in the siege, Daedora had fantasized about rescue, often
by her demon lover Narisha, clad in stern steel armor, wielding a
great black sword. Other times it was the wizardess Livia or the
human, Wulf, sailing into battle, sweeping her away to safety. Even
then, Daedora knew such imaginings were foolish, and they seemed even
more so now.
	Still, even a chance of escape seemed better than nothing.
Then again, quick and painless death with those she loved was
infinitely preferable to the drawn out agonies that Thae’Lynn N’Quy
doubtlessly planned for her. Best, she thought, to stay here and deny
the bitch the pleasure of witnessing her death.
	Daedora ate little that evening, and said good night to her
family with a heavy heart. In her chambers she crawled into bed,
curled into a ball, and wept silently. Below, she could hear the faint
chinking and clinking of sappers  tools, of her enemies slowly but
surely tunneling upward toward her.
	One last image of Narisha hovered before her, of the
crimson-skinned woman lying naked beside her, touching her gently,
whispering to her.
	"I love you, I love you all, no matter what I may say or do.
When I am cruel to you, it is because I love you, and when I say
things to you, I do not truly mean them, but it makes you want me all
the more, and that makes me happy. I love you, little elf."
	Daedora wept openly now, hearing her sobs fill the room.
	One thing only. One chance. One last image...
	She sat up, reaching for her bedside table. In it, among all
her other personal belongings, was a viewing crystal, which she used
to communicate with Narisha and her crew when they were nearby.
Daedora had tried to reach her lovers for weeks now, and each time had
been thwarted. The  Skate  was either too far away, or the crystal no
longer functioned.
	Daedora held the crystal close, weeping and whispering.
	"Narisha. Livia. Wulf. Anyone. Please, hear me. Please answer
me."
	To her surprise, the crystal began to grow warm, and deep
inside it, she saw the tiny image of the blonde-haired sorceress,
Livia.
	"Daedora?"  The voice was faint, but audible.  "Is that you?" 
	Livia! 
	Faint hope grew inside her. "It’s me! Can you hear me?"
	"Only faintly, love. We’re south of Xesh, and we’re a long
ways away." 
	"Oh, Gods,"  Daedora said, feeling the tears start again.
"Please. You must help me!"
	And the story came tumbling out. Not everything -- there was
scarce time for that. Only that she was in danger, and that an army
stood at the gates. What could the sorceress do save listen, Daedora
wondered? They were too far, too far.
	"We’ll sail south,"  Livia said, determinedly.  "I’ll try to
set the crystal to locate us. Can you get a warhawk or a griffon and
fly to meet us?"
	"I don’t know," Daedora whispered.  "I don’t think so. Oh,
Gods, Livia..."  
	"Don’t!" Livia’s voice was edged with concern. "Don’t start
now. There’ll be time for that later. We can be in Dark Elven waters
in a couple of days. You need to find some way out of that fortress.
Disguise yourself. Steal a flyer. Anything. Please, Daedora. Don’t
give up." 
	She steeled herself at the words, taking a tight grip of the
terrible emotions inside her, locking them away, sealing them behind
walls.
	"I’ll do it," she said.  "I’ll try to keep in touch."
	"When the homing crystal is ready, I’ll key it to yours,"
Livia said. "It will glow blue when you are moving toward us. I’m
sorry, but it’s the best I can do."
	"It’s all right," Daedora said, quickly. "It’s all right. I
only wish...  I wish I could bring my family..."
	"Just you, Daedora. We’ve no other choice. Please hurry. Stay
alive, and we’ll decide what to do then." 
	All thoughts of sleep vanished, and Daedora was out of bed,
gathering possessions, thinking, wondering what to do.
	The next night, the sounds of picks were closer, and attacks
on the upper ramparts grew in intensity. Dozens of N’Quy flyers fell
to earth, pierced or burned by the defenders, but more of Yth’ela’s
troops fell and soon only a handful remained. The upper ramparts were
abandoned, and the family began to prepare for the final battle.
Shadera said they would soon gather in the council chamber.
	Then, Daedora’s crystal began to glow blue. Tonight, she knew.
Tonight would be her only chance.

Thae’Lynn
	Colonel Ta’loren, Thae’Lynn’s chief adjutant and Second Eldest
of House Voale, entered the inner chamber with an air of
self-importance that he wore like a cloak. He was clad in sleek black
armor, making him look like a red-eyed specter, gleaming with
highlights of silver. Unfortunately, his attitude evaporated the
moment he saw what his commander was doing.
	Lady Thae’Lynn stood, stark naked save for a dark crimson veil
and her omnipresent silver piercings, legs apart, fingers spreading
her swollen cunt lips, allowing access by... 
	By, Ta’loren noted, torn between lust and nausea, a great
black wolf, chained to a central post so that it could just barely
reach the Duchess and lavish attention on her with its flexible pink
tongue. Her head was thrown back, lips moist and open, eyes nearly
closed, with only a thin sliver of whites showing.
	"Uhh... My Lady?" Ta’loren was almost afraid to speak.
	Her head snapped up when she heard him and she whirled,
leaving the wolf  yipping with disappointment.
	"What do you want, you moon-faced assassin of joy?" she
demanded picking up a robe and wrapping herself in it. "You’re lucky
I’m in a good mood or you’d be the wolf’s next meal."
	"Uh, Lady. We are ready for the final assault. We have word
that Duchess Yth’ela and her household will... Will cross over before
we attack so that we cannot capture them alive."
	"Hm. Saving us the trouble, are they?" Thae’Lynn picked up a
small dreamweed pipe and lit it with a smoldering incense taper. She
inhaled, held her breath for a long moment, then expelled a stream of
deep purple smoke. "Ah, well. I’ll grant them that much mercy. Begin
the assault at midnight. If they’re still alive by the time we get
there, well then they’ve no one to blame but themselves. You have your
orders."
	Ta’loren saluted. "My Lady." He left with evident relief.
	Thae’Lynn turned back to her wolf. He was still eager for her,
fired by spells and drugs. A pity to let it go to waste, she thought,
dropping her robe and walking back toward him.
	"Feast, my pet," she whispered as she felt the hot pink flesh
touch her. "Feast upon your mistress."

Daedora
	Since the fall of the upper ramparts, the enemy had kept its
aerial troops there. Passages to the upper floors were blocked with
rubble, and heavily guarded. The last surviving Yth’ela warriors were
tired, most were wounded, but all were ready to sell their lives
dearly. Even so, Daedora was able, using a few minor cantrips, to slip
unseen past them, and crawl carefully through the rubble choked
stairways, toward the upper levels. Besides, she rationalized, they
were on the watch for attackers from above, not interlopers from
below.
	Things had happened so quickly that Daedora had barely had a
chance to see her family one last time. Of course, she could not say
she was leaving; they all believed that she would be gathering with
them the next day to all pass together into eternity. She held back
tears as she left them, gathered her small pack of belongings and
headed upward.
	Outside, all was dark. Thick clouds obscured the moons, but
Daedora’s enhanced senses picked out the soldiers and flying mounts
who lounged on the walls, waiting for the call to battle. Her cantrips
continued to hold out, or the enemy would have detected her as easily;
Daedora’s people saw in the darkness as easily as others saw in the
light.
	Now she crouched in shadow beside a large pile of rubble, the
debris left by a great siege stone. The ramparts had always been her
favorite part of the castle, and now they were in ruins, occupied by
sworn enemies. More sorrow assaulted Daedora; she pushed it aside
along with all the other fear and loss she felt.
	Ahead was a squadron of warbats -- these were beasts she had
ridden before, which she knew how to control. Swift but rather stupid,
the creatures did little fighting themselves, serving instead as
mobile platforms for transporting infantry or archers. The bats
riders lay nearby, all apparently asleep. Their mounts, on the other
hand, looked restive, eager to take off for a night’s foraging. None
were tethered or restrained.
	This was what Daedora had hoped. Warbats were expected to
disappear when not being ridden, and the sleeping soldiers would not
miss the bat she chose until the next day when it did not return. Even
then, the rider might assume that the bat was lost to accident or a
predator.
	Daedora’s heart pounded with terrifying intensity, and she
felt it through her entire body. The bats were unsaddled, of course.
Their tack lay nearby, beside the sleeping riders. If she were to ride
one of the creatures, she would have to do so bareback, clinging to
its fur, guiding it with hand pressure against its sensitive ears.
She’d only done such a thing once in her life, and then she’d almost
fallen. Now, her life depended upon it.
	A faint tingling in her ears and fingertips told Daedora that
the cantrip was expiring, and in a few seconds she would be completely
visible. Now was the time... 
	Throwing all caution to the wind, she sprinted toward the
bats. The spell would not protect her while she moved so quickly and
openly, and if any of the Dark Elves on the walls happened to look her
way.
	"Hey! What was that?"
	The voice should have frozen her in place, but instead it
spurred her onward. Daedora leaped the last few feet, landing on the
soft brown fur of a yawning warbat. Startled, the creature spread its
wings and leaped from the wall, plummeting downward, surprised by the
sudden weight on its back.
	Daedora clung to the fur for dear life, anticipating the shock
when the bat finally arrested its fall and started to fly. When it
came, it was almost too much for her; she felt her grip loosen, and
one leg slip off, dangling behind the confused bat. The creature
darted to and fro, diving and climbing; though it was used to a rider,
Daedora had no saddle, and the sensations were proving too much for
the bat to handle. It was several long minutes before the bat finally
settled into a normal flight pattern, and to Daedora’s horror, she saw
that it was making back toward the castle wall, where the Dark Elves
milled around, alerted that something was up. The cantrip was gone
now; if the creature returned, she’d be captured for certain.
	To be caught after only a few moments of freedom...
	Daedora steadied herself and guided the bat the way she’d been
taught, by waving her hands near its large, intricately-funneled ears.
Thinking that prey was nearby, the bat turned, banking toward the
imagined target. She motioned near the other ear, and the beast
responded accordingly.
	Below, the other bats began to launch themselves into the air,
and the elves returned to their rest. They had not seen her. She was
safe for the moment.
	The bat bobbed and weaved in the way of its kind. Bat flight
was nowhere near as linear and graceful as that of a bird, and several
times Daedora almost lost her grip, hanging precariously over the vast
army encamped below. She saw now how futile Yth’ela’s struggle had
been. The army was huge, and the elven forces had yet to be committed.
On a lone promontory, she saw a darkly-lit indigo and blue pavilion,
banners fluttering around it, and interspersed between them, a number
of crosses from which still bodies, or parts of bodies, hung.
	Daedora shuddered, then gaped in fear as a great, hulking
winged shape came out of the tent. Mazzor, Thae’Lynn’s lover. Was that
the Protector’s own tent, she wondered? Daedora clung tightly to the
bat’s fur, praying that the daemon did not see her.

Thae’Lynn
Mazzor’s horned dragon-head inclined up toward the darkened sky.
"Someone is escaping," he said. "One of our enemies. On a warbat. I’m
not certain who."
	Thae’Lynn shrugged. "A rat fleeing the sinking ship. Let it
go. It will serve to spread word of our conquests. Now..." She turned
to where her lover lay on his back, erection towering like the grim
edifice of Council Spire. "Now where would you like to put that lovely
cock, my beloved daemon?"

Daedora
	Hours stretched by, and keeping the bat calm grew harder and
harder. The flinty hills and low plains of her homeland fled by. The
enemy was far behind, but now Daedora faced hunger, thirst, and a
quarrelsome, uncooperative mount. Soon, the black waves of the ocean
appeared, and she flew out over the open sea.
	Mindful of the shaking she was likely to get, Daedora had
secured Livia’s crystal by a chain around her neck, and she checked on
it periodically, guiding the bat in the correct direction, maintaining
a bright blue glow. How far she needed to fly was uncertain, and the
few times she tried to contact Livia through the crystal, she got no
response. It was nearly dawn when she finally saw the sails of the
Skate,  and her gloom lifted. The bat seemed to sense that the long
journey was soon to be over, and flapped toward the ship with renewed
enthusiasm. Perhaps it was the inviting yardarms, where it could
sleep, wings furled, but whatever the reason, Daedora had no trouble
guiding her troublesome mount the last league or so to the ship.
	When she at last tumbled to the deck, looking up at a young
blonde human named Steph, Daedora knew that she was, for the moment,
safe. Home was gone, or soon would be, and all she knew and loved
would be dead or destroyed. She managed a weak smile when she saw
Narisha, and finally fell senseless into her lover’s arms. Here, now,
she had a home, and a place where she could recover.
	And plan her vengeance.

Wulf
	Anyone who goes out of his or her way to make someone else cry
is, in all likelihood, scum. In this case, anyone who could make a
young woman as good natured and kind as Daedora cry was probably
asking for decapitation. Since the villain in question was Thae’Lynn
N’Quy, of course, she’d condemned herself for about the twentieth time
over as far as I was concerned.
	For, I realized, cradling Daedora against me as Narisha and
Livia stroked and petted her and told  her that everything was going
to be all right, this was a kind and good hearted woman. Dark Elf she
was and, for many people, that in itself was enough to condemn her.
But I’ve known far too many wicked light elves, and far too many noble
orcs and selfless demons to judge a person by the color of her skin,
or the shape of her ears or the antiquity of her culture. If the Dark
Elves were evil, then the world had made them that way, most notably
their smarmy cousins the High Elves, who had driven them out centuries
before.
	Here, sobbing and shaking before me in utter emotional
collapse, was a Dark Elf, and I knew that I cared for her, and wanted
to see justice done to those who had slaughtered her family and
destroyed her home.
	"There, there," I said softly. "It’s going to be all right."
	As hackneyed and cliched as it was, that was about all I could
say right then, or else I’d start weeping myself.
	Damn, but I’m sensitive.

*    *    *    *

	It took several hours for poor Daedora to compose herself
sufficiently to provide us with any more real information. What we got
was disturbing, and enough to make me immediately suggest we light out
of Dark Elven waters and head straight for a nice quiet igloo in the
extreme north of Cold Isle, where the Dark Elves were unlikely to show
up.
	What I considered a very reasonable suggestion was vetoed,
though Livia ordered us to set sail and head north with all speed.
	Thae’Lynn, it seemed, had her fingers in a large number of
pies, and had not been letting mushrooms grow under her feet since our
last meeting.
	"She is definitely gathering an army, mostly foreign
mercenaries. She’s promising very rich rewards, giving them gold and
concubines and very old weapons. I guess she’s been gathering up
ancient artifacts for years, and is giving the non-magical stuff to
her troops. Her core leadership is all female, though, and most of her
officers are other dark elves. She has some humans, I think. Perhaps
some Wolfen and Tandu, as well."
	"She doesn’t discriminate," I said. "I suspect she finds the
beast-folk pretty stimulating company, if I remember her proclivities
aright."
	"Only trusts women, eh?" Narisha asked. "Smart girl."
	"Quiet," I said. "She lets her mercs do all the fighting?"
	Daedora nodded. "It’s traditional. Our own soldiers are saved
for the final battle, or not used at all. We prefer to manipulate,
rule from the shadows."
	"What about her pet High Elves?" Livia asked. "What is she
doing with them?"
	"No idea. We were shut up in the fortress for so long... There
was no news after House Nendotha fell. We heard that they were acting
as her agents abroad, where High Elves would raise less suspicion than
Dark Elves, but I don’t know for certain. There were so many rumors.
That she was dabbling in necromancy, preparing to open another
dimensional portal, or summoning ancient sea daemons to be part of her
navy."
	I looked anxiously out the porthole.
	"Nothing out there yet," I observed, "but then the night is
still young."
	"We’re sailing north, Wulf," Livia assured me. "Out of her
sphere of influence."
	"For the moment, anyway." I didn’t feel much better.
	"She’s been busy, I’ll grant her that." Narisha didn’t seem
much interested in sex, but I knew it was only a temporary lull.
	I shrugged. "What’s it mean to us? You say she’s managed to
take ultimate power in the dark elf realms, that she’s got the High
Prince eating out of her... Well, her hand, and that she’s building a
huge army armed with ancient weapons. We’re just a bunch of itinerant
adventurers with a nice ship. It seems to me that the best we can do
is keep our heads down and hope that she doesn’t notice us."
	"You’re sounding awfully pragmatic," Livia said. "That bitch
killed your girlfriend Sarra, laid waste to the Elven Islands, tried
to kill you three times -- or was it four? -- and almost killed Li and
Theanna. Me too, I guess, if you count those storm daemons."
	"You think I don’t know that?" I said, feeling somewhat
helpless. "If I knew some way to really nail the fucking cunt, I’d do
it. However, I suspect she’s a bit beyond the reach of our vengeance
right now."
	"Just a minute," Narisha interjected, "I object to your use of
the word ‘cunt.’ I think it demeans a perfectly lovely part of the
body to use it as a pejorative."
	"I stand corrected," I said. "When I said ‘cunt,’ I actually
meant Gods-damned cocksucking ice-queen bitch. Is that any better?"
	"I would think you would be the last people on all of Thystra
to object to cocksucking," my dear demoness continued, shaking her
blue-black hair. Yes, I was right. The old libido was coming back. Too
bad the rest of us weren’t in the mood.
	"She’s planning something," Livia said. "Armies are too
expensive just to sit on them. Especially mercenaries. She’s going to
use them."
	"For what?" I asked. "Even with an army of mercs, she would
still need naval transport, and the High Elves would never stand for
that. Not after the Stormking."
	Livia laughed at that. "Damned prick-ears think they own the
Inner Sea. It’s getting downright impossible to be an honest corsair
anymore."
	"Who else is she going to fight? The Demons?"
	Now it was Narisha’s turn to laugh derisively. "In a goblin’s
eye! We’d send her streaking back for home the minute she set foot
across the border."
	"Don’t be so sure. She’s got a few thousand years of magical
heritage and hatred behind her."
	"And you have no idea what we’ve got, my little pet. No idea."
	I accepted Narisha’s statement with a neutral grunt. Taking on
the Demons was likely to end in disaster, but up to now, disaster was
Thae’Lynn’s middle name. Even so, she had managed to end up on top of
the heap in Dark Elf land, and now looked to be turning her sights on
the rest of us.
	"Perhaps her pet elves have something to do with it," Livia
suggested. "Like Daedora says, they prefer to let others do the
fighting. Maybe they’re out provoking a fight right now."
	"I doubt she’d pull anything so overt," I said. "I’m sure her
toy elves are in action somewhere, but they’re doing something we
don’t yet suspect."

[end of part 3]


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