Down in the Dungeon
Part One

A Wulf Tale
By Anthony Pryor

My my, it has been a long time, hasn't it? Well, just for the record, I've been keeping myself wholesomely occupied, what with the employment thing and the single parenthood thing and the romance/relationships thing (you can go to the livejournal link on the News page if you really care to learn more, but I don't really think it's worth the effort). A nice two-week vacation and a hiatus in my game writing/editing/developing career has allowed me to actually redo the site and -- gasp! -- write a new Wulf story, or at least the first installment of one. After all these long months of inactivity, as well as my nearly nonstop involvement with the rpg industry, I've got dungeon crawls on the brain, and I thought it would be fun to put Wulf in to a real, live adventuring party with 50 feet of rope, ten-foot poles, healing potions and all that stuff, so here it is. I'm working on D20 stats for all the characters and will throw in hyperlinks with maps and descriptions of all the places that Wulf and his companions go, but for now I'm just happy to see Wulf back on-line, and a new story in the cooker.

Anyway, for those who have been waiting, welcome back. I hope that the new site and the new story both meet with your approval, and feel free to drop me a line any time.

As our tale begins, Wulf is in semi-retirement, and decides to pass on his wisdom to some younger and less-experienced acquaintances. The story itself takes place after Wulf/Wolf, and also after the still-unwritten Lords of the Peaks, which may or may not ever see the light of day. Enjoy!

---

I was sitting in a tavern the other day, as is my wont (by the time you get to be my age there isn't much left to do besides sit in your customary watering hole and ogle women young enough to be your daughters, wondering where the hell all the time went), and I noticed a sadly familiar sight.

In a dark corner, sitting in what they thought was a secluded booth, was a band of young adventurers. They were all there - the noble fighter in brand new, freshly-oiled chainmail, the staff-bearing wizard (trying to start a beard but failing), the cunning thief in studded leather and the serene, white-clad priest. They were huddled around their table, discreetly studying a worn parchment, making notes and pointing at it excitedly.

After a few minutes of this I found that I really couldn't stand it any longer, and strode over (actually I walked slowly, feeling a stiffness in my legs that wasn't there when I was their age).

"I hope you didn't get that map from an old man with one eye and a crow on his shoulder," I said.

They looked up in horror and surprise, as if shocked that I had figured out what they were up to.

"I can see from your expressions that you did," I continued, pulling up a stool and seating myself at the table. I glanced at the map.

"Oh Phaedra's tits," I swore. "I was with a party that bought that map from Willy One-Eye over twenty years ago. It was worthless then and it's worthless now."

Fighter-boy glared at me.

"And just who the blazes are you, old man, that you feel you have the right to speak to us in such a fashion?"

"You can drop the affected noble fighter talk," I said. "It doesn't impress me." I gestured at one of the more attractive barmaids and gestured for a round of ale. I was sincerely hoping that she'd bend over the table when she served us - it was about the only thrill I could afford these days. "The name's Wulf."

That stopped them. They stared at me as if I'd just dropped a dead rat into the collection plate on Godsday.

"You're Wulf?" the fighter demanded. "Wulf the Freelance?"

"Oh, come off it," said the thief. "He's a fraud. Wulf the Freelance is dead. Eaten by trolls in Necrotia."

"I heard he took over some kingdom in Vendaya and was killed by jealous nobles," suggested the cleric.

"No, I think he was lost while trying to climb Mount Starport, looking for the invisible gems," chimed in the wizard.

Just then the barmaid showed up with a tray full of drinks and plopped them on the table, bending over and giving me a magnificent view of her ample cleavage.

"There ya go, Wulf darlin'" she said, grinning. "And there's no extra charge for the sightseeing."

The adventurers shut up again, thank the gods. I think they were at least half convinced.

"You say this is a fake?" the fighter asked. "It cost us ten crowns!"

"That's inflation for you," I replied, sipping at a passable ale. "It only cost us one."

"This is the same map that you bought?" the thief asked. "How do you know that?"

"I didn't say I bought it," I told him. "I said my party bought it. The lower left hand corner is burned. That's where our dwarf set it on fire while trying to read it in the dark with a candle. We wrote our contract and put our initials on the back."

The fighter flipped the map over and squinted. Then his face fell.

"Seven of you?" he asked.

I nodded. "And one henchman but he didn't know how to write. Dwarf runes, elf script and a big sloppy 'W' at the end. That was mine."

"Big party," commented the cleric.

"Yeah," replied the thief. "Big parties were popular in the old days. We travel lighter these days. Only four of us."

I shrugged. "Less meat for the orcs after they find your corpses, I guess."

Fighter-boy sighed and looked at his companions.

"I think he's right," he said dejectedly. "We've been swindled."

"Don't be too downhearted," I said. "Willy's been pulling that scam for years. I don't know how he keeps getting the same map back. Maybe he loots the bodies after the party he sold it to gets wiped out." I looked at the map again. "This thing's got some stories around it, I'll bet."

The wizard looked at me curiously. He seemed a decent enough sort - just a little wet behind the ears.

"So what happened when you had it?" he asked.

"Well, if you have a couple of hours and want to buy me a couple of rounds I'll tell you," I said, leaning back and hefting my mug. "Since I suspect that you're not heading off for the dungeon tonight you've probably got the time."

They looked at me expectantly.

"Go on," the thief said. "I'm already two crowns poorer. What's a few more silvers for beer?"

"That's the spirit." I took a long pull from my mug. "So there I was, sitting in a tavern in Richport, wondering what the hell to do with myself…"

***

Whoever named Richport was a hopeless optimist. The place isn't just an armpit - it's the pit of all armpits. Of course, I was stuck there myself, so I had to make the most of it.

I was a fairly young man then, fresh from adventuring in the Wilds with my wolfen lover and our mutual friend the ex-slave girl Yashi. I had some cash in my pocket, at least - enough to maintain me in food and lodging for a few days, but not enough to book passage out of that stinkhole and back to civilization.

I whiled away hours at the tavern (it didn't have a name - I don't think anything in Richport had a name), considering and rejecting various plans for my future. I had managed a little petty larceny here and there to supplement my meager resources, but it seemed that everyone in Richport was a hard luck story, as broke and down on their luck as I was.

Then the Companions of the Blade showed up, and my life was turned upside down.

They made quite a stir when they showed up, striding into the tavern clad in their best adventurers' gear, sitting down and grandly ordering drinks.

"A round of ale for the bar!" shouted the dwarf. "Compliments of the Companions of the Blade!"

That caused something of a sensation, and the ragged-assed crowd at the tavern set up a ragged-assed cheer as the overworked servers busied themselves distributing rotgut. The dwarf tossed out silvers as tips, and within a few minutes, everyone was convinced that the Companions of the Blade were the finest folks ever to walk on Thystran soil.

I accepted my ale with a curt nod and considered the group.

The burly human in well-worn plate armor - he was the leader. He was armed with a serviceable broadsword in a leather scabbard and I suspected that he had a couple of magical protective devices squirreled away somewhere. He was dark-haired and handsome, with a cleft chin and deepset eyes and gazed across the room with an appraising eye. He was certainly looking for something, but at that point I couldn't say what it was.

The uncharacteristically generous dwarf also seemed to have ulterior motives, for his expression, buried deep in a thick brown beard, was similarly thoughtful. He whispered briefly to the fighter, discreetly pointing out the tavern's various denizens. He was definitely all dwarfed-out, in heavy mail and gauntlets, armed with a large, double-bladed axe. A heavy helmet rested on the table in front of him.

They had a priest - that was a sign that they were expecting to be out in the field for a long time and would need healing. He was male, with a gentle expression that usually indicated a peaceful soul not cut out for adventure. There was a St. Orlan's medal around his neck, which suggested to me that he was an idealist trying to spread the Kyborist creed to the far corners of the world. This individual is better known in my trade as demon bait.

The wizard was an elf, dark eyed and brooding, his golden hair tied behind his neck, his expression unreadable. He wore blue robes and bore a staff, but I didn't recognize any of his insignia and so had no clue as to his school or specialty. Damned wizards. Never trusted them myself.

The other two party members were far more interesting. They were both female, of course - the first was a shapely human with fiery red hair and pale, pale skin. There was a lute slung on her back and a slender sword at her side - a bard, I'd warrant.

The other female was another elf, but this one had a distinctly exotic cast to her, with a delicately-pointed face, elaborately-coifed silver-blonde hair and wide almond-shaped eyes lined with black pigment. She had a small tattoo on one cheek, but I couldn't make out exactly what it was. She was clad all in greens and browns, leading me to suspect that she was a ranger or a druid.

Finally I noted a seventh member of the group, a small, beady-eyed goblin who darted about among the members of the group, looking busy but doing very little. That would be the faithful henchman.

The party was pretty much complete, I reflected. Two fighters, a cleric, wizard, bard, druid and henchman. There was one obvious member missing, however…

Just as I was thinking of it, the dwarf spoke up again, confirming my suspicions.

"Greetings to all!" the bearded one bellowed, sloppily raising his mug and sloshing beer. "I am Svignar of the Hillcleaver Clan! My companions and I have come before you with a request!"

With that the establishment fell largely silent, save for the drunken mumbling of the reprobate at the end of the bar who was talking to himself about an argument he'd apparently had with his wife a decade or so previously.

"We have come seeking a seventh member of our bold party of adventurers," Svignar continued. "Should there be anyone in this establishment with the skills of a rogue, scout, skulker or… Well, let's face it… a thief…" The room broke out in raucous laughter and catcalls. "Then come see us! We are bound for wealth and glory, and we wish to have a boon companion with skills that we need, with whom we will share our bounty!"

I rolled my eyes. This party had "disaster waiting to happen" written all over it, despite their generosity and the obvious pulchritude of its female members. I had just gotten back from a long sting as a rogue/scout/skulker/thief and I for one wasn't about to get dragged back into that game for a long time. No, my thoughts were on Godshome, and the possibility of throwing myself on the mercy of the magic academy headmaster and returning to my studies.

Yes, I know I was being naïve. I told you that I was young and foolish.

The bar fell strangely silent at the dwarf's request - it seemed to me that they were being as sensible as I was. Richport was full of such adventurers, and more often than not they set out from the city and never returned. Or if they did return it was in small crates or ash-filled ceramic jars.

The dwarf looked disappointed. "Come now, good people!" he shouted. "Don't you know who we are? I am Svignar, and I have traveled Thystra from one end to the other, winning great glory and countless chests of gold. My companion Thantanus the Bold snatched the ebon crown from the very brow of Barsan the arch-lich. Our priest Beldrin is a gentle but wise student of Saint Orlan, and the wizard Havaenol is a student of the most ancient and learned elven magi. Our bard Vendyra can sing to charm the gods themselves, while Lilywinter the druid commands the forces of nature herself!" I noted that he didn't even both mentioning the goblin. Svignar waved a stumpy hand at the assembled heroes. "Are these not fine companions? Is there an adventuring band in all the land that would be more suited to the brave and bold heroes in this chamber?"

Once more, the answer was uncomfortable silence. I fancied that I heard a cricket chirping somewhere.

Svignar knew when he was beaten. "Ah, well," he said. "Enjoy your ale, all. Should any of you change your minds, you can find us in the rooms above. Good day to you."

He sat down, a disappointed expression clouding his gnarled face.

I returned to my ale. I felt for them… really. They seemed like a decent troop of well-meaning boobs, and I didn't wish them ill. I also didn't especially want to get involved with them, either, though if some other numbskull who fancied himself a rogue wished to do so, I wasn't about to stand in his way.

Unfortunately, as the room's only rogue with any real experience, I stood out like a demon on Godsday. When I set down my mug I was presented with the ugly face of Svignar the dwarf, regarding me with a smile that screamed "false comradeship."

"Hello, young one," he rumbled. "Care for a refill?"

I met his gaze with what I hoped was friendly but unwavering skepticism.

"Sure," I said. "And for that you get my gratitude." I paused and allowed the barmaid to slop another serving into my mug. "And nothing else."

The dwarf looked nonplussed. "Great ancestors, youngster!" he said with a wide-eyed, astonished look on his face. "No one trusts anyone anymore! Can't a man buy another man a drink without someone thinkin' he wants something in exchange?"

I took a sip. "Well, doesn't he?"

Svignar waved a thick-fingered hand. "Ah, youth! Just 'cause I'm bein' generous, you automatically assume I'm tryin' to recruit you into my friends' business venture!"

Another sip. "Well, aren't you?"

Svignar frowned. I think my logic had baffled him; dwarves aren't known for their ability to contemplate deep philosophical issues, after all.

He cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, my friends and I was just noting that you had the air of an experienced adventurer about you - someone who knows his way around both sides of a locked door, if you know what I mean."

"A rogue, a scoundrel, a thief, a scout," I said. "I don't know if I qualify for all of those things, but I've got some experience. I'll admit that much."

"Then what's the matter with joinin' up?" Svignar demanded. "A free ticket out of this stinking hellhole… no offense, mind you," he added apologetically as the barmaid glared at him blackly. "Guaranteed gold and likely a magic item or two… Hells, we think that there's a better than average chance that we'll find Martag's Glaive. Think about it, youngster! Martag's Glaive!"

I shrugged and drained my ale. "Never heard of it. And the name's Wulf, by the bye."

"Very well then, master Wulf. What do you say to a bold adventure with boon companions? You've the skills we need - Than can see it and the barkeep confirms you to be just the sort we're lookin' for!"

I put the mug down with slightly more force than normal.

"Sorry, Svignar," I said. "I've had a bit too much adventure lately, and right now I'm heading for bed." I stood and bowed briefly. "But I hope you find what you're looking for. Good night."

With that I turned on my heel and strode from the common room, right past the disappointed-looking adventuring party. The red-headed bard regarded me with something less than disappointment, and for a moment I regretted that I would probably never see her again, but then my calmer and more rational side reasserted itself and I negotiated the stairs, leaving the noisy common room behind, walking to my room without a backward glance.

If only we'd just left it there. I might be a famous wizard today with lots of gold and a small harem of female pleasure-sprites and sex daemons.

No such luck, however.

My room was about as comfortable as one might expect, given my financial state - a table, chair, nightstand and narrow bed with straw-filled mattress. Humble, as they say, but homey. I was just polishing off a nightcap in the form of another mug of ale when someone knocked, none too gently, on my door.

I was ready to look down toward the floor when I opened the door, but to my surprise, it was the grizzled human fighter who stood there, with a grim but determined expression.

"Rogue," he said, without waiting for me to speak. "My dwarf tells me that you've skills we need."

"I'm not sure how he knows that," I replied. "We've only barely met."

"Svignar has made inquiries. It seems that you are highly recommended."

I frowned. This was a first. "Well, it's good to be wanted, but if you're here to ask me to join up with your heroic adventuring crew, I'm afraid the answer is still no… what was the name? Thannus?"

"Thantanus. I'm afraid that we're in a bit of a bind, Master Wulf." He looked troubled. "Our endeavor requires the skills of an experienced rogue such as yourself, and there is no one in this slime-ridden, gods-forsaken shit-hole…" He paused. "That is to say, this fine, pleasant and rustic settlement… That meets our requirements."

I admit that my curiosity was aroused, but my recent catastrophes had convinced me that adventuring was a fool's errand, and my attention was still firmly set on the magic academy. I forcibly repressed my growing interest and met his gaze.

"Look, Thantanus," I said patiently. "I sympathize completely. However, I'm afraid that my destiny lies elsewhere. I tried the adventurer thing and it just didn't agree with me. So with all due respect, I'd very much like to get some sleep."

Thantanus nodded curtly. "It's what I told him you would say." He turned and walked back down the hall, not looking back. "Your kind never listens to rational arguments."

I didn't give the comment much thought, but instead undressed, locked the door and blew out the candle. Hopefully I'd get at least a few hours' sleep and be able to locate transport back to Godshome in the morning.

No such luck, however.

About a quarter-hour after I'd bedded down, there was another knock on the door, this one somewhat lighter, but at the same time more insistent.

I swore, clambering out of bed (not that it was all that restful to begin with, but at least it was a bed, which was more than most people in Richport had. I was dressed only in my breeches, and was in a foul mood as I swung the door open, ready to tell Thantanus or Svignar or whoever was there exactly which hell they could go to and which daemon they could be buggered by.

When I opened the door, however, I only gaped.

She was standing there, hands on hips, gazing at me coolly. It was the red-headed bard woman, and up close she was even more appealing than she'd been at a distance. She was dressed in tight buckskin pants and a leather vest, laced up quite firmly, pressing a pair of full breasts together and redoubling her already-substantial cleavage. Her face was small and delicate, with a pointed chin and a small but shapely mouth and green eyes mirroring something that might have been amusement. Red hair fringed her face and was drawn up in a long braid behind her. She's apparently left her lute downstairs.

My mouth must have dropped, but I tried to maintain some veneer of normalcy.

"Uh, can I help you, Miss…" I fumbled.

"Vendyra," she replied in a musical, lilting voice. Yeah, she was a bard all right. "Thantanos says that you turned down both him and Svignar."

"Yeah," I said slowly, trying to sort out my thoughts. "I guess I did."

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "What a couple of idiots. I just told them that they weren't offering the right inducement."

"Right…? Induce…?" I was mumbling now.

"Oh, come now," she said, and with deft fingers began to untie the lacings that held her vest shut. "You're an intelligent man." She quickly scanned me up and down. "And, might I add, a damned handsome one. You'll agree… You just need to hear the right offer."

"And that offer is…?" I was beginning to see where she was going, despite my sleep-fogged brain.

She pulled the laces loose and opened up her vest. A pair of soft, pale, pink-crowned breasts bobbed free.

"These," she said, smiling, and cradling them in long-fingered hands. "And everything that goes with them."

I gulped, and I imagine I stared. I was much younger and less jaded then, mind you.

"Hm. I think I've got your attention," Vendyra said, happily. "So, what do you say? Want to join in exchange for a taste of what's under these clothes?"

I must have nodded, because the next thing I knew she'd stepped into the room, pushed the door shut and slid her hands around my buttocks, pulling me hard against her.

"Good choice, rogue," she whispered hotly in my ear. "You'll find my coin much more pleasant than Thantanos'"

"Gods," I muttered. "I was going back to the Imperial Academy…"

"Throw in with us, you handsome darling rogue and you can fucking buy the Imperial Academy," she said.

I felt a strangely familiar rush of blood away from my head and down to a far less rational organ. Vendyra must have felt it too.

"Ohhhh, yes," she purred, and a hand slipped from my hips to my crotch, touching the rapidly-hardening bulge in my breeches. "Now that's coin that I like to be paid in."

She glided lithely to her knees shedding her vest as she did so, freeing two pale, good-sized breasts.

"Let me take a closer look," she said, eagerly. My single candle didn't provide a lot of illumination, but I saw enough to keep me interested as she expertly unlaced my breeches and reached into them, fingers gently caressing my cock, coaxing it to even greater enthusiasm.

"Oh, my." She cast her smoldering gaze upward. "You like to have your cock sucked?"

I smiled at that. "I love you bards," I said. "You always know how to find the right words."

"Smartass," she replied, flicking her tongue out and running it along the underside of my shaft. "Well, I'm willing to bet you've never had your cock sucked the way that I'm going to suck it."

I looked down at her expectantly, and she slipped her lips around my cock, letting it slide into her mouth, tongue caressing. She opened her mouth and pulled it out again, and it slid out, slick with her saliva. Again she swallowed it, adding more spittle, and slid it out, festooned with sticky streamers. She stroked it against her cheek, and let another gobbet of spit slide out of her mouth and drip along the hard, heated surface.

"Never had a drool job, have you, sailor?" she whispered, lips thick with saliva, bubbles erupting as she spoke.

"No," I said, softly, feeling the tension in my voice. "No, I haven't."

She continued to suck, and the quantity of spittle increased as she did so, until both my cock and her face were covered with it, so much that it dripped copiously down her chin, and onto the plump roundness of her breasts.

I stroked her head as she continued to suck, slowly holding her head tighter as I felt the heat in my loins rise higher and higher.

"Pull my hair," she whispered through a froth of saliva, more bubbles and spit streamers drooling from her mouth. "Grab my hair and fuck my face."

I groaned and grabbed a handful of thick red hair, yanking her head back, then sliding my cock to the hilt into her mouth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a moan. I began to move her head to my own rhythm, pulling it back and slamming it down, feeling and hearing her moans grow in intensity as I did so.

"Yeah," she said, muffled by my cock and a mouthful of spittle. "Yeah, fuck my face. Fuck it… Ohhhhh, yeah… Gods damn you. You've got a big fucking cock, you know that?"

Well, no I didn't, and it's really not that big, but then again what man doesn't like to hear that?

"Like to get fucked with it?" I said. What can I say? I was much younger then and I hadn't had time to hone my dialog.

She shook her head, spittle spraying. She had a beard of froth now, cascading down her chin and across her breasts, dripping from her swelling nipples.

"No," she whispered. "Don't fuck me. Just let me suck you."

I reflected that this was probably a sensible attitude for an adventurer, given the possibilities of unwanted pregnancy, but an instant later, my mind was focused once more on the hot wetness of her mouth.

Moments later, we had both stumbled out of our clothes and ended up on the rickety bed. Vendyra fell onto her back, pulling me down on top of her.

"Put it in my face," she demanded, grabbing my shaft and pulling it toward her. "Sit on top of me and fuck me in the face."

I leaned forward, pressing my cock against her, slipping between her lips and back into her mouth. She released still more spittle, and soon both face and cock were completely coated.

"Think that's enough?" Vendyra whispered, rubbing my cock against her cheeks, saliva bubbling from her lips. "Think it's wet enough?"

I nodded feverishly, stroking her hair and forehead. "Yes, I think it is."

"Fuck my tits then," she said. "Put this cock between them and fuck them."

Most of Vendyra's upper torso was slathered in her spit, and my cock slipped easily between the soft roundness of her breasts, sliding instinctively in and out.

"Wanna come?" she demanded, pressing her breasts together, squeezing my cock into a wet, slippery tunnel of flesh. "Wanna come on me?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I want to come."

She opened her mouth and extended her tongue, overflowing with saliva, then grabbed my cock and began to pump at it with both hands.

"Come on," she whispered and stuck out her tongue again. "Come all over me."

I groaned deeply, feeling the rush of orgasm rising up from deep inside me.

"I'm coming," I gasped. "I'm…"

The first wave rolled over me, and a string of semen burst from my cock across Vendyra's mouth and tongue. She grinned at me, then a second, even more powerful spasm wracked me, and an even bigger gush of come exploded onto her chin, across her lips and onto her extended tongue. Again, I convulsed and a third, even more massive load splashed onto her, across her face and forehead, spattering her red hair.

"Oh, my," she sighed, reaching out with her tongue and taking another burst of come, sliding down her throat and mixing with the foaming saliva that covered her face. "Very nice, rogue. Very nice." Slowly, she wiped a gobbet of my come off her face and licked it off her fingers.

With that I collapsed, sliding off of her and flopping onto my back.

"I think," I said, struggling to catch my breath, "you can call me Wulf now."

***

"So she persuaded you to join the expedition?" the cleric asked. "After you'd been so opposed to it? What did she say to you?"

"Oh, she presented the case very logically," I replied, wiping foam from my lips and signaling the barmaid for another round. "She made some very convincing arguments. In the end, I realized that I needed some income if I was ever going to get out of that hellhole. So I agreed to leave with them the next day."

The thief chuckled at that. "Oh, I'm sure her arguments were very logical."

"Damn right they were," I shot back, grabbing a mug off my favorite barmaid's tray and taking another swig. "Bards are known for their impeccable logic."

***

For all the attention that Vendyra paid me the next day, she may as well have never met me, let along suck me dry and gargle with my come. She was friendly, to be sure, but as soon as we'd set out from Richport I began to realize that I'd been pretty thoroughly had.

I had to admit that the Companions of the Blade were pretty well equipped. We all had horses, as well as the requisite sturdy pack-mule, who walked placidly along behind, bearing his load of supplies without evident difficulty. Thantanus and Svignar rode in the lead, with the spellcasters in the middle. My fire-haired bard and I took up the rear, though the best we could do for conversation was pleasantries and comments on the weather. When Thantanus asked her to sing a traveling song, it was almost a relief.

The girl had good pipes, I'll grant her. The day went quite pleasantly, with the festering sore of Richport vanishing in the distance behind us, and the green grassy sward, dotted with clusters of woods, closing in around us.

We were nearly ten leagues out of Richport by the time night fell and we began to make camp.

That night we gathered around a pleasant fire, and my new companions filled me in on their endeavor.

"It wasn't easy," Svignar declared, pulling a tattered parchment from a scroll case, "but we've managed to get our hands on this map, that shows the final resting place of Martag's Glaive."

I looked at the map.

"It looks pretty generic to me," I commented. "Just a bunch of rooms and corridors. And it doesn't even say how to get there."

"That's why we got the map so cheap," Vendyra said. "It's useless if you don't know where it's located. I found the location of the complex in an old book we bought from a bookseller in Stoneburg. It told us how to get there, but didn't give any information about the layout of the place. Then Svignar ran into a drunk in a tavern who said he had the map we needed."

"Poor old reprobate," Svignar said. "One-eyed chap. Only friend in the world was his pet crow. Ready to sell his soul for the price of a bottle. I bought the map from him."

"How much did you pay for it?" I asked.

Svignar grinned broadly. "A crown," he said. "A single gold crown."

I frowned. "How did you know that this was the map you were looking for?"

"He told me," Svignar said, a tad defensively. "He knew exactly where the place was and how to get there."

"You know, I've always wondered this about old men who sell treasure maps in bars," I said. "If they know exactly where the treasure is, why aren't they hiring people to go get it for them? Why are they always selling the maps for the price of a drink?"

"He was desperate," Svignar said. "Willing to do anything."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "With all due respect, Svignar, would you tell me something? Is there some kind of automatic penalty to dwarves' intelligence? Is your wisdom penalized when you're born or something? All you've done is squandered good gold on a map that may or may not be a fake, and didn't even bother checking to see if the old man had pulled this scam with anyone else."

Svignar spluttered and looked angry. Vendyra looked vaguely impressed and Lilywinter looked elvishly inscrutible. The rest of the party (except Scrad, who was busy stirring the stew) looked shocked and horrified at what I'd said.

"I'll bet a month's haul that when we get there, the place will bear no resemblance to your map whatsoever and you'll be out a crown. And one-eye will be drunk as a lord." I sighed again. "Oh well - in for a copper, in for a gold I suppose. I've thrown in with you lot, now I guess we're stuck with each other."

Thantanus broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. "Look, Wulf," he said, "I don't know if this map is a fake or not. If it is, then we're short a gold crown." Here, he shot a black glance at Svignar, who quickly looked away. "But we do know the way to the complex, and if the map is wrong, we'll need your services even more. Think of it - a completely empty dungeon, with no map to guide you." Another glare at the dwarf. "You'd be critical to the success of our mission. Look." He flipped the map over. A basic adventurers' agreement had been scrawled on the back, with the names of all participants (except, I noted, Scrad) arrayed beneath it.

"You're telling me you headed off on this venture without a rogue?" I said.

"Our friend Aldo was picked up by the constables right before we left," Vendyra said. "Our fearless leader here figured that we'd just pick one up on the way."

"I see. You assumed that you'd be walking through the wilderness, run into some guy in a cloak who says, 'My name is Sneaky. I see that you have no rogue in your party.' Then you say, 'You seem an honest fellow. Would you like to join us?' Was that it?"

"As far as Thantanus and Svignar were concerned, yes," Vendyra said. "The rest of us just went along and trusted to their judgment."

Thantanus turned his black gaze on her. "You made the agreement," he said grimly. "I'm the leader of this party. If you don't like it, you're welcome to ride out."

"I won't ride out," Vendyra said. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that Wulf is saying things that most of us have been thinking all along. In any event, he's here now and we know where we're going."

"As long as your information was accurate," Svignar grumbled.

"Oh, my information is accurate," Vendyra shot back. "Bards don't buy maps from drunks in taverns."

Thantanus indicated the parchment. "Are you in, Wulf?"

I nodded. "What the hell."

Vendyra rummaged in her pack and withdrew a quill pen and inkpot.

"You're well prepared," I said.

"Always," she replied, slipping in a sly grin, the first acknowledgement of our interlude together.

In the flickering firelight, I inked an unsteady "W" on the paper and handed it back to Svignar.

"Don't lose it," I cautioned.

Svignar rolled up the parchment and replaced it.

"Now," I said, "does anyone mind telling me about this wondrous item that we're seeking?"

Beldrin the young priest cleared his throat.

"I think that our cleric can shed more light on that matter," Thantanus said. "He specializes in the history of holy relics and weapons."

I felt Vendyra tense and suspected that she had rolled her eyes at the comment, but I let it go and listened to the priest.

"Ahem. Lord Martag was a great crusader for the cause of Kybor, and is said to have stood beside Saint Orlan in battle against the hosts of the chaos-lords. He is said to have wielded a mighty polearm…" Vendyra snickered at this, eliciting another one of Thantanus' characteristic glowers. "…A mighty polearm - a glaive, said to have been blessed by Saint Orlan himself and imbued with the power of Kybor. It is said to cut through the strongest armor as if it was made of parchment, and to have special power to slay the demons of the chaos horde. When Martag fell in battle, the hordes of chaos were unable to destroy the mighty glaive, nor were they able to take it back to their home plane. Instead, the interred it in a vault buried deep beneath a great massif, guarded by their most fearsome chaos warriors and warded by demons. And there it has lain ever since. Until today."

"Thank you, Brother Exposition," I said. "So you're saying that this weapon is sacred to the church?"

"Yes, it is most definitely."

"And exactly what are you planning on doing with it once you've got it?"

Beldrin looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. "Why, return it to mother church in Godshome," he said, matter-of-factly. "What did you think we were going to do with it?"

"Oh, I don't know," I replied. "Maybe send out word that you had it and sell it to the highest bidder. Or perhaps hand it over to your leader and let him wield it and become a demon-slaying superhero until someone kills him." I glanced over at Thantannus and Svignar, their faces indistinct in the flicker of firelight. "Am I warm?"

Thantannus cleared his throat and Svignar colored, then looked away.

"I guess I am," I went on. "So, this isn't a quest to restore a sacred artifact to the church after all. Is that what they told you, priest? If you believed them you're more naïve than most Kyborists, and that's saying something."

Beldrin looked suddenly stricken and cast a horrified glance at his companions.

"Is… is this true?" he asked, voice quavering. "That you would take the Glaive of Martag and sell it for filthy coins? Deny it to its rightful owners - the servants of Kybor?"

Now, Thantanus' expression was openly angry. "You presume a good deal too much, rogue." He fixed Beldrin with a reassuring gaze. "Priest, rest assured that your sacred artifact will end up in the hands of those who can truly use it. However, if we can wring a few coins out of the process, well, so much the better. Surely you can't deny the fellow faithful of Kybor the opportunity to recoup some of their investment, can you?"

Beldrin didn't seem all that reassured, but he held his piece and fell silent.

I looked at Thantanus and Svignar again. If they were Kyborists I was a fish-god cultist, but I was beginning to think that the warrior was right - I was indeed presuming too much and should keep my mouth shut. If they were going to steal the glaive and make a profit on it, I didn't care if they sold it to wolfen slavers, so long as I got my cut and could make the trip home in safety.

"I believe that I was also offered the opportunity to inspect the glaive and learn more of its enchantments," said the wizard Havaenol, speaking for the first time. "They may be of great use, and aid me in crafting new weapons for my companions."

Thantanus nodded. "Yes, of course. I doubt that the church will object if we want to give the weapon a good going-over before returning it, do you, Brother Beldrin?"

Beldrin shook his head, looking as if he wanted to sink into the earth.

"And don't forget," Svignar said, obviously trying to restore some harmony to the group, "that the vault is said to be crammed to the rafters with all the other loot that the horde gathered in its conquests. It's lain undiscovered for millennia - and now we're the first to find it."

"You found the location in a book?" I asked Vendyra.

"I did," she replied. "A thick volume written in the Voice of Shadows, one of the more obscure chaos-scripts. It was in first-cycle Sybarthan, which very few people speak anymore. It took me a month to decipher the first few pages, but it became quickly obvious that it was an account of the chaos horde's invasion, along with many facts about its leaders, its battles, weapons, tactics and other things. It revealed the location of several other vaults that have since been discovered, so I came to the conclusion that it was genuine. The vault we're looking for is located in a distant part of the Wild that has lain largely unexplored since the days of the horde."

"I see." My esteem for the bard was growing, and it wasn't just because of her oral skills. "At least we've good reason to believe that your work is right, then."

She nodded, proudly and emphatically. "That you can, rogue. That you can."

The evening proceeded from there, with drinking, stories and songs (Vendyra's voice could have charmed angels; I was indeed growing more fond of her with each passing moment, even if she refused to acknowledge me as anything other than an adventuring companion). Eventually, we managed to recapture some semblance of fellowship, even though Beldrin seemed reserved and the druidess, Lilywinter, drank only in moderation and rarely spoke.

We bedded down near midnight, coals smoldering. I drew a late watch, and was on duty, wrapped in a blanket, clutching my sword as the sun rose, misty and pink, the next morning.

The others were rising, looking varously refreshed, grouchy or drowsy. Scrad was busy stoking the fire and pulling out a skillet. As I watched, he threw some cured bacon in and cracked several bluish eggs.

"Where does he get those?" I asked Beldrin, who had just finished his morning prayers.

"The eggs?" asked the priest. "I think he just forages. He's amazing, actually. Finest henchman we've ever hired."

I agreed, accepting a serving of eggs and bacon, then wolfing it down with a few swigs of water. The edge of the woods was nearby and I saw Lilywinter, the druid, gathering up some small sacks, a spade and a silver sickle, then wrapping herself in a cloak against the morning chill.

Thantanus thumped me on the shoulder with a thick finger (gods, I thought, even his fingers are muscular).

"Lilywinter's going to gather some herbs and will catch up with us later," he said. "Go keep an eye on her, will you?"

I nodded. I was still feeling uncomfortable with some of my new companions and welcomed the opportunity to get away from them for a while.

Lilywinter regarded me wordlessly as I trudged into the woods behind her. I was left with the impression that Thantanus usually sent a bodyguard along with her, and that she considered it an annoying necessity.

I took the opportunity to - surreptitiously, anyway - take a longer glance at the druidess. As I've noted, she had an even more exotically elven grace to her than the wizard, who had clearly spent a long time in the company of humans and had adopted many of our mannerisms. Lilywinter (I suspected that this was an approximation of her elf name, which was either secret - not for the likes of "mere" humans - or unpronouncible) simply <i>felt </i>more like an elf. Perhaps it was the way she moved, gliding along and scarcely disturbing the undergrowth around her, or perhaps it was the air of otherworldly calm and serenity that surrounded her like an aura. Vendyra had been female in a thoroughly human way - wild, primitive, vivacious, bursting with untamed and almost animalistic energy. Lilywinter seemed far older, and far less of this world.

Not that she wasn't attractive - her ethereal distance and grace simply added to her allure, as if I was walking into the depths of the forest with some kind of spirit or - dare I say it - angel. Her hair shimmered silver and gold, her skin smooth as if carefully sculpted by an artisan, her eyes delicately slanted and surrounded by lines of black that served to enhance their near-luminous blue. She wore a long green cloak that seemed to be woven out of leaves and vines, appearing to shift and blend in with her surroundings as she moved. The body under the cloak swayed and moved with a preternatural beauty. Being the horny young fool that I was in those days, I tried to imagine what her shapely ass looked like, gently moving beneath the magical garment.

Her entire body had that sensual elven quality that I would later on grow so familiar with. Tall and willowy, yet at the same time shapely and earthy, as delicate as wind but as rich and fruitful as the earth itself. I wondered where she was from and how she came to fall in with such rabble.

"I am from the Elven Isles," she said in a gentle, lilting voice that - like her body - was at the same time strong and rooted in the earth. "My father is loremaster of Gray Keep and my mother is a priestess of the Runehall. I chose to leave that place after dwelling in the forests for near to a century, for I could feel something greater in the land beyond our home. My father forbade me from leaving, for he wished me to follow in my mother's footsteps and become an acolyte of the Runehall. I refused and he cast me out, bidding me never return. I wandered for another half-century and finally joined with this band in order to see more of Thystra."

I gulped and must have looked surprised.

"I do not hear your thoughts," she went on, "but I can feel them, read them if you will, in your posture and your motions." She paused again and smiled - it was as if the shadowy forest had suddenly grown brighter. "And your gaze."

I felt as if I had suddenly been stripped naked before the masters of the Imperial Academy.

"I'm… I'm sorry," I said. "I meant no offense. I just thought…"

"You found me pleasing," she said, and to my surprise her voice was light and even carried a tinge of amusement. "I have had many of your kind look at me in that way. But none with such clarity."

I must have blushed at that. Yes, I was a horny young fool, but I was also acutely aware sometimes of my youth and inexperience. Even after my adventures with Akumi and the Lords of the Peaks I still saw myself as a wet-behind-the-ears amateur, weary of adventure and determined to regain my place at the Imperial Academy. In my innocence, of course, I assumed that a simple apology and assurance that I would never do it again would make up for the destruction I'd wrought, but as I said I was pretty young and naïve. Today I realize that had I presented myself to the academy, they probably would have had me arrested and I'd have ended up as a eunich guard at one of the White Emperor's palace latrines, so in the end I think I was fortunate. In those days, however, well… I had a lot to learn.

"Don't be ashamed," Lilywinter continued. "I've spent enough time among humans to understand their passions." So much for my theory that she was just off the boat - she'd been in the world for decades, yet still managed to retain her old elven grace and detached beauty. "I've learned to read you and feel the depths of your emotions. Our kind neither burns so bright nor chills so deep as yours - a human's passions surpass an elf's by many orders of magnitude. Though we live long, we do not live as well, I fear."

We began to walk slowly into the forest. In the distance I heard the gentle sound of a stream. Periodically, Lilywinter knelt down and gathered up herbs, digging them up with her spade or cutting them with her sickle. As she did so, she whispered softly, invoking earth spirits and gods only knew what else.

"I know any number of humans who would be happy to trade places with an elf," I said. "Many would rather live long than live well, I think."

She smiled again at that, carefully tucking a bunch of silver-sheened green leaves into her pouch. "I know this," she replied. "We always want what another has, don't we? What we have is never enough. We cannot accept that there isn't more. The glorious want to live long and the long-lived want glory." She sighed. "I've lived longer than any two humans, and I still cannot understand this."

"What's to understand?" I asked. "We're both wise and stupid in our own way, your people and mine. We've more in common than either of us suspects."

"Such wisdom from one so young," Lilywinter said, more than half seriously. "I may return home one day when my father forgives me - which he will do, for he truly loves me, though for all his long life he does not truly realize it. But part of me wishes to stay here, to learn your ways. And to learn to live well."

Now it was my turn to smile. "So the elf learns from the human," I said. "Will wonders never cease?"

Lilywinter didn't reply, but her eyes lit up as she saw ahead of us a bend of stream that curved lovingly around a spit of land - low, grassy and fringed with bright yellow wildflowers. The trees seemed to bow down around it, shading the stream and the spit from the sky above, so that only dappled light shone down on the rushing water.

"Perfect," she whispered, then muttered a few words in elvish. I followed her as she scrambled down a short slope and onto the spit. As I watched, keeping a wary eye on the surrounding trees, she knelt beside a green tussock, digging into the soil with her spade. After a moment, she pulled forth a grey-white root, covered in filaments and clumped with dirt.

"<i>Mehyl,<i>" she said. "Dragonswort to you. It aids in divination. Given the doubts that you expressed about this endeavor last night, we may need a few good prophecies before the adventure is at an end."

I nodded. "I'm inclined to agree." I scanned the trees again, but saw only gently swaying leaves. I felt a certain portentiousness in the place, a sensation that I'd learned at the academy. It meant that there was magic here, but it was a deep and old magic, as if something important had taken place on this spot millennia ago, and that remnants of it still lingered in the trees, the grasses and flowers.

"Ah!" Lilywinter's exclamation grabbed my attention. I looked and she was digging again. A moment later, she pulled up a greenish plant with tiny yellow flowers and cut off the roots with her sickle.

"Wormwood," she said, holding it up.

I frowned. "I knew some blokes back at the academy who brewed up a very nasty concoction with that stuff. It tasted like syrupy licorice tea and it made me sick as a guardsman on payday."

She wrinkled her nose. "It has many uses. Humans have only found the crudest of these." She looked at me, an unreadable expression in her high, slanted eyes.

"Did you couple with that slut, Vendyra?" she asked suddenly. "Is that why you decided to join up with this endeavor? Tell me true. Did you lie with the Lastlander?"

I was taken aback. The mystical elf beauty had suddenly shown a flash of jealousy and very human dislike.

"I… uh…" I stumbled for the words. "I suppose you could say…"

"You have," she said. "I can see it. Usually if a human does not deny something immediately it means that the answer is yes." She looked away. "The Lastland slut said she could obtain your services in her own 'special' way, but Thantanus insisted that he give you a try first, before resorting to such base bribery."

She seemed disappointed in me. For a moment, I was disappointed in myself.

"She did talk me into it," I admitted. "I suppose she appealed to me on a different level than that lug of a fighter. I joined up, yes. I have my weaknesses. I'm only…"

I stopped.

"Only human?" Lilywinter asked. She drew a paring knife from her belt and began to shave off pieces of wormwood root.

I nodded wordlessly. I was only human. Yes, that was true.

"You don't seem to like her much," I said.

"I do not. She is like an animal, that one. All rutting and fucking." She faltered. "That's the human word for what she does, is it not? Fucking?"

"It isn't necessarily a bad thing," I said. "There's rutting, there's fucking, then there's making love. Then there are other things. I guess you rut with a woman you pay silver in an alley and you fuck with someone you met in a tavern. And you make love to someone you… Someone you love."

"We do not make such distinctions," Lilywinter said. She placed the wormwood shavings in a small vial and mixed in liquid from another, whispering in elvish again. "Another aspect of your ways that I do not understand yet." She looked up, handing me the vial containing the mixture. "Perhaps the human can teach the elf about fucking as well, yes?"

Again, I was taken aback and must have stared again.

"It is what you want, isn't it?" she asked, though there was an edge to her voice that I did not like. "The way you looked at me, the thoughts that ran through your mind that I saw in your eyes as clearly as if they were still and empty water?" She held out the vial again. "Drink, human. You will like what it does."

I accepted the vial. Suspcion flashed briefly through my mind - what druids don't know about poisons isn't worth knowing - but I could feel her intentions, and though there was a certain knife-sharp edge to her words and the emotions in her icy blue eyes, I somehow knew that it was not truly murderous. True, there was a faint sting of hostility and even anger in her gaze and manner, but it was a strange anger. An anger of desire and longing, mixed with a strange sense that she wanted something she could not have.

<i>We always want what another has, don't we? What we have is never enough.</i>

In a strange way, I suddenly understood. I accepted the vial without reply and drank it. The taste was stringent, like fine alcohol mixed with licorice and roses, and I fought the desire to choke. Then it was down my throat, thick and sickening, and a strange warmth almost instantly began to spread throughout my limbs.

"There are times when I love your kind," Lilywinter said. "Other times I hate them, and sometimes I even pity them. We elves learned things long ages ago that your kind can scarce conceive. We know how to make this weed become something greater - a substance that enhances and prolongs the act of love. Of rutting and fucking, if you will. Yet we do not use it. We have shunned it as base and brutal, fit only for orcs and dwarves and filthy humans." Her eyes hardened and glared at me now, but stepped closer, her green cloak slipping to the grassy ground as she undid the clasp. "I hate you, human. But I also love you in a way that I cannot describe. I hate that you rutted and fucked with the Lastlander and that she rutted and fucked with you. Yet as much as I hate the thought of what you did, I desire it too. I want to feel it. To rut like an animal, to fuck like a human. Yes, to make love as well. All these things I want, and I hate you for being able to experience them. Yet, I want you as well. Can you understand how strange it feels?"

I could not, for all I felt now was desire, and her words - brutal and angry as some of them were - touched me and seemed to worm their way into my heart and my belly and my cock, which began to stir and harden.

"I think," I said, as always trying to remain rational even as the demon of lust bade me let go, "that we humans can only pay attention to one of those emotions at a time. We can feel them all, but usually one takes precedence and overwhelms the others."

Lilywinter tugged at the lacings of her shirt, exposing white skin and the swellings of her breasts. Then she untied the leather belt that held her breeches and began to pull them down. They were tight, made of supple leather, leaving nothing to the imagination, but she shed them quickly and as gracefully as I would have expected. Her hips were curved, her belly soft and slightly indented at her navel, an almost invisible trail of silvery hair pointing down to the junction of her thighs, where downy fur shone faintly.

"Is this what your kind wants?" she asked. "Your woman naked and exposed to you?"

I pulled off my own shirt and stepped forward. "I want it," I said, the warmth growing to a burning sensation in my limbs and my steadily-hardening cock. "I want you naked for me."

With a single motion, she drew off her shirt, exposing sweetly-firm breasts, her nipples hardening in the air. Yes, we had a lot in common, we humans and elves. She stepped forward and a long-fingered hand caressed my groin, stroking my cock through rough fabric.

"You want to rut with me?" she demanded, insistently, eyes pinned to mine with near-manic intensity. "Want to fuck with me?"

"Yes," I said, voice uneven.

"Say it." Lilywinter's voice was harsh, but alluring at the same time.

"I want to fuck you," I said. "I want to fuck you right here."

The words seemed to fill her, and her gaze grew less angry, though no less intense. The rage and frustration that I felt radiating from her - the anger at both me and herself, at both humans and elves for the gulf between them - seemed to change, transforming like a wizard's victim transformed into a frog. Anger and pain and frustration gave way to more primal emotions, the kind that elves seem so ashamed of and so eager to supress. In their own way, lust and desire were next-door neighbors to anger, and now that anger had vacated, they came flooding in to replace it.

With amazing strength, Lilywinter seized my breeches and hauled them down. I felt and heard cloth rip, and hoped that it wasn't in any place that would be too obvious. I stumbled out of my boots and felt her overwhelm me, bearing me down to the grassy sward, her mouth hungrily devouring me, first my lips, then my chin and neck, then my shoulders and chest, then kissing-biting lower until they reached my cock, now rock-hard and standing up of its own accord.

"I will fuck this," she whispered, feverishly, her pink tongue caressing my hard cock-flesh. "I will fuck it all."

Idly, I wondered how much experience she'd had with human, or for that matter elven, males. She certainly seemed to know what she was doing.

Lilywinter's technique was certainly different from Vendyra's. Her tongue and lips glided smoothly up and down my cock, caressing it like silk, delicately stimulating me, where Vendyra had been more like a hungry wolf devouring me. Don't get me wrong - they were both great, but right now, with the wormwood brew pulsing through my veins, I was lost in the sensations of Vendyra's tongue, feeling them resonate across my entire body.

"Feel it," she whispered, looking up at me. There was a glimmer of the feral energy that I'd seen in Vendyra, but it was still distant and hidden behind a curtain of elvish reserve and detachment. "Feel me."

I groaned, letting her swallow my cock again. Her fingers caressed my balls and my thighs, then wound around my prick, sliding up and down, first slowly, then faster, all the while flicking her long pink tongue across the head. Then she held it tightly, squeezing as she licked, tongue caressing my cockhead like a living thing independent of its owner.

Lilywinter made a sound deep in her throat that sounded like a rich, feral growl. There was indeed a trace of the animal in her gaze, now growing more dominant, pushing aside the reserve of civilization.

All at once she drew back like a panther poised to spring, and lept forward onto me, hands seizing my shoulders, pinning me to the grassy sward. Her face was twisted into a mad rictus, her teeth bared, and she sank them into the flesh of my neck, making my yell and wonder if I was going to get out alive. Her naked body writhed against mine, breasts grinding into my chest, belly to belly, the soft downy hair of her pubes brushing against my heated cock, rubbing it insistently.

"Now," Lilywinter hissed in my ear, and her hands left my shoulders, sliding down my sides. One encircled my cock while the other slid between us, slipping between her thighs and spreading open her cunt, allowing her to rub the head of my cock against her hot, wet flesh.

"Now," she said again, and my cock slid inside her, enveloped in warmth and heat, swallowed up by Lilywinter's ravenous sex.

I groaned, and rose to meet her. She moved in turn, joining with my thrusts, letting my cock slide in and out in graceful and ever-quickening rhythm.

"Gods," I said, hands grabbing at the soft white flesh of her ass (yes, it was the shapeliest and softest thing you'd ever want to grab ahold of, as I'd suspected). "Gods, you're going to make me - "

"Shut up," Lilywinter said harshly. "You'll not come. Not yet. There's more I want. More." She threw her head back, hair flying, and her breasts bobbed before my eyes, nipples firm and erect. "More."

She pulled away and my cock, slathered in her juices, stood in the air for the moment. Lilywinter fell into the grass beside me, eyes fixed on mine. Her hands slid down to her thighs, spreading them apart and she whispered again, so softly that I could barely hear.

"Take me. Fuck with me. Rut with me."

Holding her gaze, I rolled atop her and took her thighs in my hands, pushing them apart, feeling my cock slide into the moistened cleft between her cunt lips. She grabbed my hips then, and pulled me toward her, my cock plowing into her, triggering a moan that was at once filled with pleasure, excitement and pain.

"Ah! Yes!" She gasped. "Hold me down and take me. Show me."

I pressed down upon her, my hands holding her shoulders as she had held mine. She bucked and writhed wildly beneath me, hips moving violently and sensuously, slamming forward as my cock plunged into her. Inside I felt a hot tightness growing, parallel to the fevered moans issuing from her laboring lungs, and the light steadily building in Lilywinter's radiantly blue eyes - a spark of wild energy, of mad release approaching along with orgasm.

"Ah, yes," she gasped. "There. Don't slow… Don't stop…"

Her jaws gnashed, her eyelids flickered and I felt her body tense, then release, tense then release. Her cunt clamped down on my cock tight as a glove, and I felt a rush of liquid, as if a dam had burst forth between her thighs.

"That's… what… I… want…" she continued to groan, head whipping back and forth, hair flying, eyes showing only whites. Her fingers tightened and clenched, and she seized my back, digging her nails into my flesh like claws. I cried out, but I was enjoying this too.

At length, the convulsions passed, but the fire in her eyes had only grown stronger.

"Again," she demanded. "Again. I want more. More."

My muscles were protesting, but I went on, sliding up to my knees and cupping her ass cheeks, pulling her hips off the ground. I leaned forward and her legs swung around my shoulders, her back curling upward, her cunt now beneath me, allowing me to thrust downward, feeling her yield before me. I held her up, pressing downward until only her head and shoulders remained on the ground, her face contorted with effort, her eyes still burning with unrequited desire.

"Is this what you want?" I demanded, holding her legs tightly against me as I thrust in and out. "Is this what you wanted me to do?"

"Yes!" It was a wild declaration rather than a reply, a shout to the world around us that Lilywinter the druidess was receiving the fine rutting that she'd desired so. I pressed on, cock sliding in and out, until she came again, crying and even screaming this time, then once more fixed me with a savage gaze. The fire burned unquenched, and the old detachment, the veil between her and the world was torn away, replaced by the gaze of an animal wild for the kill.

"Again," she said once more, and her fingers wrapped around my cock where it thrust into her, pulling it forth and rubbing it against the puckered opening of her asshole below. "But here this time. Here. Hard. Fast. As hard as you can."

I grunted; the effort was considerable, but I held her and allowed her fingers to guide my shaft into the tight orifice between her ass cheeks. Her juices had exploded all over everything, leaving her ass slick and hot, and as I began to thrust in, feeling initial resistance, a look of pain crossed her face.

"Go on," she urged. "Don't slow. Don't stop. Give it to me."

I slipped further, feeling her tightness resist, then begin to give way. The pain on her face increased, but she began to move against me, letting my cock slide in, then out, then in a fraction deeper each time.

"Yesssss." The last sybillant issued from her lips like a snake. "Farther. Yes. This is what you do when you rut, is it not?"

I nodded. Sometimes we do, I thought. Not always, though. You're getting special treatment.

Lilywinters' finger slid up her sides then toward her thighs, spreading open her pink lower lips, stroking feverishly at her clit - it was good-sized and quite prominent now with her building excitement.

"Make me…" she gasped. "Make me…"

My only reply was an incoherent growl, but it seemed to be just what she wanted to hear. She exploded again, bucking and writhing, grinding her hips against me, driving my cock deep into her ass.

"Gods…" Her face was flushed and contorted, her eyes gone entirely to the animal side. "Yessssss…"

With that I pulled my cock forth from her asshole, stroking it against the moist softness of her cunt lips, and felt my own sudden rush of passion; in an instant, my cock had burst forth with a thick stream of semen, splashing across her belly, her upturned breasts and onto her face. She opened her mouth to accept the offering, and the hot white fluid splashed across her cheeks and chin and outstretched tongue.

Her voice was an incoherent collection of moans - each one was different -- excited, horrified, grateful, mortified. A dozen different emotions and more flitted through her burning blue gaze as we collapsed into the grass and lay together, slick with each other's juices.

"You showed me," she whispered, stroking my face gently. "Show me again."

I nodded, feebly. "Once I've had time to recover."

Her caresses seemed to come from a world away, bidding me float off and vanish from the world.

"Sleep," she whispered. "Give in to the potion's will. Sleep in this place, and dream."

And so I did. I dreamed of her, lying naked in the flowers, touching herself, cunt, breasts and lips, and heard her moans amplified and enhanced, filling my ears and my brain. But in the distance I saw a strange thing - a granite mountain, high and craggy, with a graceful marble entrance attached to one side, surrounded by columns. Between the columns lay darkness and, I knew instinctively, death.

It was late afternoon when I awoke, and the sun was shining slantwise through the trees. It was still warm, and the sound of the stream nearby sang in my ears.

I was still naked, and I rolled onto my side, looking for Lilywinter.

She was in the stream, back to me, standing like a river-goddess, the water half-way up her hips, surrounding the alabaster curve of her buttocks as if she was part of it - the river made flesh, forever in harmony with its birthplace.

When she heard me, she turned, hands demurely held across her breasts, her belly slightly curved above the water, a few faint wisps of her downy nether hair visible above the surface.

"You awaken," she said. "I would have more of you."

I was about to tell her that I was probably out of it for a few more hours, and that we really should get back to the others when I felt my cock stir, and a tickle of heat grow in my belly once more.

"And I would give you more," I said, at the same time wondering who the hell said that kind of thing, and why the hell he talked so idiotically.

I stood and approached her.

***

Gloom grew around us as the sun fell lower, dropping into the lower branches of the trees. Lilywinter was naked, on her knees in the sand of the riverbank and I was behind her, one hand holding the soft white flesh of her hip, the other entwined in her hair, pulling her head backwards in rhythm with my thrusts. My cock, hard as a castle keep and apparently unwilling to go soft no matter how much I did to it, thrust between her thighs and into the soft pinkness of her cunt. She had come four more times, and like me seemed uninclined to stop.

Perhaps it was the growing darkness, or perhaps the strain of our mad fucking session had finally caught up with us, but as light died around us, I felt the strength begin to drain from me.

Oddly enough, Lilywinter seemed to be feeling exactly the same way. She fell forward, then rose to her knees and encircled my cock with her lips.

"Now, again," she said. "Quickly."

It didn't take long. To my own surprise I released another burst of semen, and she sucked at it happily, swallowing as I came. When I was finished, she rocked back on her heels, wiping her lips, and looking at me with a tired gaze. The light had finally gone out, and the old Lilywinter was there, veiled and mysterious.

"The potion has power until the next sunset or sunrise, depending on when it was taken," she told me. "I wished to rut with you for the rest of the day, and so we did." She looked around, as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. "We must go now, else the others think we've been taken by the faeries."

"Or worse," I muttered, glancing at the encroaching shadow as I gathered my clothes. "I hope you know the way out of here."

She nodded and cast a spell, causing a small globe of light to appear above her head, bathing her naked body in eerie radiance.

"I will lead you," she said. "The way is not too far."

To my surprise, we negotiated the woods with little difficulty, guided by Lilywinter's magelight. No more than two hours later we trudged over the crest of a low rise and glimpsed a small fire in the distance.

"They walked all day to go around the forest," Lilywinter said. "We cut straight through."

The party looked at us with a mixture of surprise, relief and annoyance as we stepped into the circle of firelight.

"Gods damn you," grunted the dwarf. "We'd feared you lost."

"Aye," said Thantanus. "I was wondering if we should take the trouble to go find you."

I shook my head. "We're fine. Lilywinter has gathered some excellent items."

"I'm sure she had," said Vendyra, casting a black glance at Lilywinter that I was certain only the elf woman and I could see. "Done some fine gathering, she has."

I cringed inwardly. There was obviously bad blood between the women and I wasn't terribly inclined to get caught in the middle.

But there were more dangrous things to worry about, as Svignar brought to my attention, pointing off into the gloom.

"Behold," he said. "Our destination. And destiny. The resting place of Martag's Glaive."

There, like a mound of deeper shadow within shadow, rose a great granite massif, and with mounting horror I realized that it was the mountain from my dream. There, growing more distinct as I focused on it, was the marble opening, surrounded by columns.

"It seems that they have reached the place while we blundered about in the woods," Lilywinter said softly. "They were the fortunate ones today, I think."

"I think not," Vendyra said softly, and once more I don't think anyone else in the party heard her. The red-haired woman spun and stalked off toward the fire.

Wearily, feeling the strain of the day's activities sweep over me again, I sat down and began to unpack my bedroll.

"Get plenty of rest, rogue," Thantanus warned. "We'll be needing your services tomorrow."

I nodded curtly, but once more dread and fear stirred inside me.

Gods, I thought, curling up beside the fire and trying to sleep. What have they gotten me into?

-- END OF PART ONE --

So here we leave Wulf and his new "friends," like Gandalf and the Fellowship outside the Gates of Moria (I had to throw that one in). As is my habit, I'll write Part Two over the next few weeks and get it up for you as soon as I'm good and ready :) In the meantime, like I said, enjoy the new site. I'll be getting rpg material and a new forum page up as soon as I can figure out where my cgi bin directory is...

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