The Apostate

Hammer stared into the silvered glass with a knit brow. He didn't like what was going on here, not one bit. He hadn't lost any size, save for a measure of height, but the sharp angles of his face were not the strong features he remembered. Nor was the black skin and the mane of silver-white hair that gleamed in the faerie fire light his lover had conjured.

"Not a bad look," the drow said, her voice silky smooth and laced with promises he knew only she could truly fulfill.

"Better than my previous?" he asked with a grumble.

"Hardly. I've grown fond for the square features of your kind. But it's nice to see the man I love in the skin I grew up with," Lura said with a smirk. "Besides. If you weren't to wear that mask where we're going, you'd be killed on sight. Both of us, most likely."

Hammer brought his hands up to his jaw, just below his ear, and felt where the mask had melded to his face. The disguise was magical in nature, but Lura assured him that her kin would not be able to discern the deception. So deep was the magic that his very blood had become drow in every way save for the uniqueness that was the barbarian's. He sighed and nodded.

"Very well," he said, strapping his greatsword across his back. The weapon had been commissioned by Lura, and the Neverwintan smith that had crafted it had been very discreet with his acquisition of adamantite and very thorough with every detail Lura had given him. The blade was light, perfectly balanced for its great size, with a leather-wrapped grip, an ornate, yet functional hilt. The pommel was a perfect marquise diamond, glinting darkly with inborn magic that Lura herself had infused into the gem.

Even his armor had been custom made to suit his new appearance. Supple chain mail that almost seemed to stretch seamlessly over his largely muscular frame to protect his torso left his arms bare. His thighs were sheathed in a kilt of leather, reinforced with stout, light splints, and his leather leggings were reinforced with the same supple chain on his chest. He wore tall black boots with flat soles, giving him more than a measure of stealth should he require it. All in all, he was outfitted like a true drow warrior, master of the greatsword.

"A princess and high priestess returning to her homeland with a Houseless rogue," she said, smirking. "My family might sacrifice me on the spot, regardless of the story I've concocted about seeking Lolth on the surface. That is the risk we take, though."

"Remind me why, again?" Hammer said.

"My younger sister, a decade behind me, and directly behind me in succession to our House's throne, sent me a magical sending. She is an apostate, like me, but has lived her life among the decadence and wickedness of Menzoberranzan while I chose to leave that world behind."

"You'll have to tell me how that came to pass, some time," Hammer said.

"We've a long road ahead of us," she said. "I'm sure you'll hear plenty of my departure."

"I hope for more than simple stories," he said, turning to face her fully. Her crimson eyes, splashed with swirls of gold, glowed with the divinity planted in her by Sune, Goddess of Love. Her white hair was pulled back tight, but the bundle of garnet strands that framed the side of her face hung free on one side. Her beautiful, angular features leaned forward to meet his as they kissed. Hammer may be wearing a new skin, but he had not lost his way with his tongue. They kissed deeply and passionately, and in mere moments, the armor they'd struggled to stretch over his frame was on the floor, leaving him bare and obsidian before her.

She pushed him away. Her hands were dwarfed by the expanse of his chest, but still she exerted enough influence over the massive, powerful barbarian to move him well enough away that he could see her gown in its current state. It clung to her every feminine curve—the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, her shapely thighs, the taper of her abdomen—in gauzy, weblike form, the normally bright red darkened to an almost blood-crimson shade that was just a few shades lighter than her onyx skin. He could see her hardened nipples through the gown, just a shade darker than the black skin of her breasts, surrounded by taut areola that were drawn up around her nipple in arousal.

"Beautiful," Hammer breathed as his eyes hungrily consumed her form.

"Hush now," she said, and her fingers gingerly peeled away the gauzy garment, letting it fall to her elbows, revealing her lush breasts while keeping her lower half and her stomach sheathed in the thin material. He could see the short, neatly trimmed tuft of white hair just above the nexus of her womanhood. She was moving forward, her breasts bouncing slightly with each light step. Her hand pushed him back toward the bed until he fell to sit on the mattress, his manhood laying long and aroused, yet not quite erect, between his thick, powerful thighs.

She straddled him, and when her thighs parted he could smell the floral, almost sweet scent of her arousal. "We may not get to do this much in the next few tendays," she purred to him, pressing her breasts into his chest. "Let us enjoy it fully."

She reached down, and with a scant few firm strokes to his growing manhood, had him hard as iron in her grip. He slipped into her slickened sex effortlessly, and she slide down his rod slowly, feeling the fattened head spearing into her folds, his girth stretching her anew. Bliss spread from her loins to her spine and into her throat as her head lolled back. She felt every texture of his cock as it entered her, pressing into her deepest depths, until the discomfort of it shook her. He was hilted inside her, and she paused there to let her sex adapt to his size, making her feel utterly full with his manhood.

"So deep...every time it surprises me," she whispered, hands wrapping around his broad, round shoulders as her face leaned into his neck, kissing where the mask melded with his flesh. She dug her nails into his shoulders, flexed her thighs to raise up, and then dropped herself down on him suddenly, letting out a strained groan of pleasure as she felt his cock spear her yet again. She bit down on his neck, not hard enough to draw blood from his tough skin, but hard enough to elicit a hiss of...delight, from her barbarian.

Hammer slid his strong hands down her tapered back, feeling the shifting of muscles as her arms worked around his shoulders and back, the depression and extension of her shoulder blades, and, down further, the flexing and twisting of her lower back as her hips gyrated up and down, side to side on his cock.

Lura finally wound her hands into Hammer's hair, holding his face and locking eyes with him. Despite his new skin, his eyes were still the same clear steel-blue, and she lost herself in them. She could see the reflection of her own lightly glowing eyes in his, could see her elven features in his eyes. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into the firm, round swell of her bottom, and began to grind his hips in counterpoint to her own. His penetration was deep, and the thickness of his cock caused only a minor discomfort in the drow woman. Despite years of lovemaking with each other, his size still surprised her, and the pleasure still delighted her.

Smiling, she bit her lip and lifted her knees off the bed they sat on. He grinned back at her as her feet planted on the mattress. Hands grasping the high arch of his trapezius muscles, she began thrusting her feet into the bed, forcing herself up and down his cock with eagerness, letting gravity pull her down his thick virility hard and fast. She squeaked her sounds of passion out of her throat, and Hammer grunted as he tried to move in counterpoint again, thrusting up as she fell down his shaft.

They went like this for many minutes, Hammer sliding his hands from the woman's hips to her thighs as they twitched and flex with every thrust. Shortly, he moved his hands up to her breasts, cupping the lush orbs in his thick palms, feeling her nipples scraping against his calloused hands. She gasped as he squeezed down on her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thick digits while she bounced her body up and down his prick.

Seized by a moment of inspiration, Hammer slid his hands down to her calves, pulling her down his cock as he swept them out from under her. She fell backward, barely hanging on to his muscles to keep from falling backward off his cock. He moved his hands to her taut abdomen as her legs wrapped around his lower back. With his legs hanging off the side of the bed, he began to piston her back and forth, her body horizontal, as he used the give and take of the bed to let him thrust into her. He pumped his cock into her as he pulled her hips into his, and drew back as he lifted her away. She lay lengthwise, connected only by their groins.

Her hair flew wildly, her breasts bounced vigorously, and her eyes rolled up into her head as his cock ground into the top of her canal, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves within her cunny.

"By Sune's cunt!" she said in a surprised, gasping voice, eyes wide. "Fuck me, Hammer! Fuck me!"

He grinned at the surprise and gusto in her voice and flexed his powerful thighs to stand her up. Her legs held onto his hips as he held onto her waist, using his strong arms to move her body up and down his massive prick. She let out a long, howling wail that would have surely awoken their neighbors had any other taverngoer been asleep in adjacent units. The Neverwintans had come to know of their predilections over the last several years, and appreciated the audio entertainment they received from the servant of Sune.

Hammer lifted her, pulling her close to his body as he strode forward. He pushed her into the wall, a bit harder than he intended, but the impact set something aflame within the drow. He drove his hips into her, each thrust making the wall creak as he slammed his hips into her. She whimpered and moaned, her eyes burning with passion as her nails carved angry violet lines into his blackened skin.

Her orgasm took her by storm, her body shuddering and tensing and letting flow a crystalline flow of nectar all over the pistoning girth within her. It trickled down all over his cock and sack, staining his thighs with her orgasmic discharge.

The undulating, gripping cunt around his cock did perfect work on him, though. It milked the last bits of pleasure out of his shaft, drawing out his own climax. He filled her with his virility, and were it not for the great difficulty of conceiving a child between a human and a drow, he might have been worried for such an eventuality. But he felt safe, his seed flowing deep into her womb, filling her canal until it began to seep from her, down his shaft, and onto the floor.

They both collapsed to their knees, then to their sides on the rug on the floor. The drow and her barbarian fell asleep holding each other, still connected at the loins.

*****

Their nap was short, but they awoke reinvigorated, fawning over each other and playfully re-dressing.

Hammer removed his mask after they ascertained its efficacy, but kept the drow-styled armor and the adamantite greatsword strapped to his back. His tattoos were covered by his armor, but he could feel their magic suffusing his flesh still. Lura knew their story, of his lover from his past life, all of it. She embraced him and his past, just as he embraced her and her past, though it was far lengthier than his own. The two had grown close over the last several years, having parted ways with their former companions. Cyra and Iliara had gone their own way, together, as lovers, many years ago, leaving with the newhatched dragon that had come with them from Everlund.

The others that they had left remained close to their hearts, always, but their life was their own now. Varla, Benefast and his sister, the dastard Samon, all of them were important aspects of their past, but gone now into the past. Cyra and Iliara still prowled Neverwinter, but were working on matters that kept them far too distant for them to work together still.

"We leave this night?" Hammer asked Lura.

"Night...the time of the drow," Lura said, smirking. She put her hand on Hammer's upper arm. "The mask should make the pitch blackness of the Underdark as visible as a brightly-lit night. The disguise is complete, and will make you an over-large drow in every way except for mind and spirit. Sune has truly been generous to us."

"Indeed," Hammer said, fingering the plain ivory mask. "It will be a new adventure for us."

"And very dangerous. You must rely on me wholly, my Hammer. Women have all the power in Menzoberranzan. Your words will fall on deaf ears, and will be met with violence, most likely."

"I understand," Hammer said. "I can adjust to this, my love."

"Good. Then we should practice," Lura said, her smile faltering as she backed away. She drew herself up into an imperious posture, almost scowling at him. "When a high priestess, or any female, addresses you, you will bow your head and avert your eyes to the floor. You will obey every command given to you. Every. Command. Do you understand, Calavyr the Houseless?"

"I do," Hammer—Calavyr—said.

"Fool!" she said, and a crimson whip appeared in her hand, lashing for the barbarian. Hammer instinctively reached out and let the leather wrap around his forearm, seizing the lash in his hand and yanking out of her hand with one savage movement.

Lura sighed. "Damn it, Hammer," she grumbled, holding her hand out. "I wasn't actually going to hit you. That's for tonight. But the females of my House will actually hit you if you fail to do as I've instructed."

He smirked. "Sorry," he said, handing the whip back to his lover. "I'll keep that in mind, don't worry. I'll treat them with the reverence and respect most people treat kings and queens."

"Insufficient," Lura said, folding her arms under her breasts.

"As I treat your loins?" he asked, a sly grin on his face. Still she frowned, though it cracked a hair.

"As you treat Sune," he said finally, and she smiled.

"If you can manage that, then you will survive a good long time down there in the depths of the world. The men, however, are different."

"How so?" he asked. He could manage feigning total submission to a priestess or such like, but intrigue and espionage were not his forte.

"If you are challenged by a male, return it with equal or greater vigor. If you are challenged to a duel, kill your challenger without remorse—

"Unless a priestess stops me," he interjected, and Lura smiled proudly, nodding.

"Just so. If they engage you in seditious conversation, remain non-committal and ambivalent. Maintain an air of ambition and a desire to increase your station within the House. Remember, you are a Houseless rogue and essentially worth little more than a slave, but that is not a permanent situation. Prove yourself to the females of my House, and they will reward you. Kill the right males, and they will reward you."

Hammer nodded. "I don't know how I feel about killing your kin," he said hesitantly, and this time Lura did strike him, and hard, right across the face with her palm.

"These people are not my kin," she said with a voice as cold as ice. "These people are wicked, save for my sister, Chessafae. I would not hesitate killing any of them, and neither shall you. They stand for all we fight against. Remember that always."

Hammer nodded, a smile on his face.

"Why are you smiling," she asked, realizing where her demeanor had taken her mindset.

"I love foreplay," he said, and his hand went around her neck, pushing her into the wall as his mouth seized her in a passionate kiss. His manhood was a rising force that very soon would savage her suddenly damp folds.

*****

Cyra lay afloat in the current of Neverwinter River, the warm waters of the river cool to her distinctively ruddy flesh. She was bare, naked as she preferred it, and her large breasts, capped with dark pink nipples and areola, breached the water like two triumphant mountains jutting from the sea. Her platinum blonde hair fanned out in the water under her head, having grown long since coming to Neverwinter years ago.

Horns so dark of red as to be black glistened with water. She had decorated them with bands of rubies and white gold so that the arching extensions of her skull, fanning out to the side, then curling back along her skull, glinted in the sunlight. Her ears were similarly pierced, but she wore little else in the way of jewelry, save for a magical chain attached to a navel ring that infused her with the strength of a mountain giant. Her strong thighs met at the nexus of her sex, her pouty mound creased with dark pink folds that were thrust out of her flesh and crowned with platinum blonde hair all around, though she kept the hair trimmed short and soft.

Her abdomen rippled in the dappled sunlight that glinted off the water caressing her body. All over, her musculature peaked out from under her flesh, the woman remaining lean and powerful despite the past six months of leisure she'd enjoyed at the side of her elven lover, Iliara Moonshadow.

A shrieking call drew her out of her quiet relaxation floating down the river. She opened one golden eye to see a horned head and wings breach the river's surface. The dragonling looked over at the woman, who was truly a dragonspawn herself, though through some sort of sorcery, her genetic makeup had been altered to be as a humanoid. Most considered her a tiefling, and she wore that rather than the suspicion and reaction her true heritage would cause.

Flames licked at the beast's maw. "Drax," Cyra said warningly. The dragonfire dissipated and the creature seemed to pout and whine before something under the water caught his eye. He dove under and Cyra only chuckled to herself sadly. Regretfully, whatever experiments had been done to his egg had stunted his growth. She feared he would forever be as a hatchling, though on several occasions he had displayed intelligence greater than Cyra had expected.

Cyra floated a bit longer, held aloft by the warm waters of the Neverwinter, then decided her leisure time was at an end. She flipped onto her stomach and swam to the shore, a good mile away from where she'd left Iliara at their camp. Stark naked, her ruddy skin glistening in the golden sunlight, she fearlessly strode through the threat-infested Neverwinter Wood.

There were a plethora of things she could fear, but did not. The Ashmadai revered her every time they came into contact with her, for she appeared a scion of that which they revered. The minions of Szass Tam were mostly crumbling corpses that wilted under fire she could conjure. Many-Arrows orcs were as often friendly with her as they were violent, and so long as she sent the proper looks at the proper female warriors she had nothing to fear. Brigands and bandits were not bold enough nor skilled enough to truly threaten even a naked dragonspawn.

Thusly, she walked without fear, confident that she was safe, and confident that should a real threat arise, Drax would sense it and be at her side in the blink of an eye.

A half hour later, Iliara saw Cyra approaching the campsite, breasts bouncing heavily on her chest, her muscles twitching like a sleek hunting cat. The elven woman was not nude, but was close to it. She wore only leather leggings that were untied at the hips and at the ankles, leaving them loose about her ankles and calves, and revealing the finely defined V just below her abdominals. Cyra saw it like an arrow pointing her to a reservoir of honeyed sweetness. The elf's abdominals stood out even more than Cyra's, imprinted on her pale skin. She was half as wide as Cyra's athletic frame, but those wiry muscles contained great reserves of athletic power.