Chronicles of Hemlear Pt. 01

It would be her turn to cook again in about four days and that would also be the dark of the moon. She whimpered at the thought of waiting that long for fulfilment again, but she also knew that there was little she could do about it right now. The feeling was maddening, the desire to wake Drogan and satisfy herself was strong, but she denied herself that, for aside from showing him how desperate she was, she couldn't get the orc-stink out of her nose and the idea of smelling that while she was trying to stay quiet and still get filled was infuriating and she aimed her resentment and anger, her frustration and annoyance at him. The little pouch at her side was constantly under her hand and she kept finding her gaze returning to the handsome face of the young priest.

With no other way to get relief, she hid in a shadow at one corner of the outpost and slipped her pants down and used the handle of a dagger to masturbate herself, grasping the sheath with both hands and thrusting the handle up into her sex as hard as she could, grunting as she bit down on a strip of rawhide to muffle her moans and cries. She was sore and bruised when she finally climaxed, but she had some measure of release and she quickly pulled up her pants and she didn't even think of wiping the handle of the dagger off, instead she licked it clean, the scent of her arousal and the taste of her sex sating her nearly as much as the masturbation had. When she caught one of the mercenaries watching her, she smiled wickedly and turned away to where the rest of the party still slept on. She rolled herself up in her bedroll and watched Aeric sleeping through her half-lidded eyes. When she slept again, two hours later, her troubled dreams were of him, and the loving he could give her.

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The next day they set out to the south on foot and crossed the last line of the civilized lands and into the real Frontier, stopping to sleep in one of the many tree-cottages that had been constructed along this marge of land. Nylla moved ahead, her slight form moving silently from shadow to shadow and scanning the ground and trees as she went. Most scouts were slow and methodical, but Nylla went more quickly, sure of her skills and herself as she searched and sought and marked a few pitfalls and traps for them to avoid. Some brave trappers and huntsmen worked along the marge of the Frontier, especially this close to the Rhaiven wetlands where the best game was fairly plentiful. It was nearly as dangerous as adventuring, but a patient, careful trapper or group of trappers could pull in many more furs and pelts in a much shorter time. As they skirted a huge, half-rusted iron bear trap Averill shuddered and tried not to think of stepping in that herself. It was the kind of misstep that could cost her a leg... or worse.

On her watch that night Averill found a few small mushrooms growing in a shadowed nook of trees and carefully added them to the pouch, her eyes glazed over slightly and unfocused, as if she were not controlling her own actions. The night was quiet, with a light mist in among the trees and bushes, thicker in some places than in others. There were larger patches of the fog, seeming to hover under the trees and watch her, more than a dozen of the larger patches seemed to almost orbit her, while a heavy cloud of it seemed to follow Averill as she moved among the trees on her secret errand and tendrils of it reached out to either side of her head, stroking along her neck and ears like the hands of a lover, but insubstantial. The thick cloud followed her unerringly, even against the light breeze that had sprung up and as she returned to the tree and made ready to climb up a smaller cloud seemed to merge with the one that had followed Averill and soon the mist had thinned and faded until just a simple mist was among the trees.

Averill climbed up into the tree and drew the rope ladder up after her before sitting in the perch that was at the window for guards. She laid a soft cloth out across her lap and dumped the contents of her pouch out on it. She spent a while shredding the herbs and mushrooms and placing the remnants back in the pouch and she carefully kneaded it and mashed the contents together before she hung it back at her belt to dry and cure. Then she settled into the corner of the perch and closed her eyes for a moment, when she opened them they were bright and clear and she had no memory of leaving the tree. She passed her watch on to Nylla and slipped back into her blanket, asleep the instant she closed her eyes, descending quickly into dreams of Aeric and his blue eyes and beautiful smile.

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The next day they moved on into the Frontier lands, careful of the plants known to be poisonous and of the markings of the savage dwellers in this land as they went. The creatures here were very like humans and elves and other races, but they were feral and cannibalistic. Alyth made note of the mist curling about in the dark places under the canopy of the trees and Averill learned that this part of the Frontier was called 'The Misted Lands' for there was always fog and mist among the trees, where the sun rarely shone and the air was cool and damp. Some spellcasters made long treks across the south to get to this place and harvest rare mushrooms and plants from among the trees, but such was always dangerous for the feral creatures here considered these places sacred and they were known to leave the Frontier and hunt anyone who they found had been within, especially if they had taken plants from the dark places.

While they rested, Averill sat watching Aeric as surreptitiously as she could and suddenly she was grabbed from behind again, the half-orc smart enough this time to restrict her arms and avoid a scratch from her blades, but she just grinned as he nipped her ears and gagged, choking a little and releasing her with a snarl, not quite throwing her to the ground as he lurched away, all amorous thoughts forgotten as he clutched at his throat. Averill just smiled and made a mental not to find more of that weed, it would keep him at bay nicely.

The rest of the day passed without incident and they settled in for a night in the open, with the watches overlapping and two of them always awake. Averill spent an hour with Nylla and another hour with Shaara before retiring for the night. Her first hour had been spent close to the halfling and asking a few questions about the group, things she felt oddly curious about and Nylla had answered her, glad of the company and the contact. It was Shaara who had the answer for her that she most needed. The plainswoman told her that Alyth used a little opalescent crystal as her arcane focus, that without it the spells she could cast were just tricks and prestidigitations and nothing with substance or power. Her dreams that night were troubled, of the three pale women watching from the darkness as the group woke and slept in turns and their caress on her flesh and mind drove her wild with need and desire, writhing and moaning in her sleep as the ache between her thighs was like a wound, the tingle up and down her spine was acutely painful and her mouth sore and teeth clenched as she slept.

Shaara was a little curious of this behavior, and of the heavy fog that seemed to fill the clearing around the group and extend far into the trees in every direction. But then mist was common to this part of the Frontier, and bad dreams were common among adventurers, especially those with a long past at the trade so she said nothing, though she made a note of it in her mind. Especially how the fog seemed to clump in thick patches about the clearing they slept in, and the eerie feeling of eyes upon her, covetous and hungry in the night.

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As they rested at each camp, Averill noted that Drogan was keeping his distance from her as well, sleeping on the opposite side of the camp fire and avoiding her constantly. That single incident had driven him away. After he had nipped her ear and felt almost violently ill at the repulsive scent and taste of her. It tasted like raghtha oil and he'd had to chew on pine tar to get the taste of it out of his mouth and he had begged a stick of cinnamon from Alyth to get the taste of the pine tar out of his mouth. But now that he had smelled and tasted it on her, it was there whenever he was near her and he was keeping away. That she was still giving him the cold shoulder and not even flirting with him any longer was a clear sign that she had no further interest in him.

The next day took them deeper into the Frontier than Averill had been in a while and she saw that they were detouring around a few ruins that were on no map she had. Likely they were haunts of the ferals or worse and left only to the most experienced and skilled adventurers. The trove they sought was deeper still into the forests and past one of the ancient cities that had been long ago swallowed by the forest. It was a vine-choked and dangerous place that was known to be rampant with ferals and other dangers. As the sun set they found an outpost to sleep in, and Averill's dreams tormented her further and she was glad that the next night would see them to a tower that had been cleared by other adventurers, a place for them all to rest and recover, a place where she could do what had been in her mind for three days now. A part of her knew that it was wrong, that the young priest would not thank her for what she planned, but she was so obsessed with him these last days that she watched him almost constantly, jealous of the attention he doted upon his sister, though she knew it was irrational. But still a part of her wanted to punish the sorceress in some way and the little opalescent crystal she kept on a chain around her neck was something that Averill could take when she slept and that the young sorceress valued greatly.

Tomorrow would be the day, tomorrow she would give the priest a taste of the herbs she had gathered, that would leave him strengthless in all areas but one and she would quietly gain some release from him... after she took that crystal from his sister. But there was still another day of travel ahead of them before they reached the outpost where the group of them would be safe and where she could put her plans into motion. It would be the dark of the moon and as they slept Averill would have an hour and a half alone with the priest, an hour and a half to quench this need between her legs and gain some measure of relief from the dreams and fantasies. Her dreams were the worst that night, with the hands of the three women all over her body and the kisses they placed on her heated skin maddening her, but the worst was the slight elfin woman nipping and licking at her ears. She knew that the tension in her would be drawn as tight as a drum the next day and that if she didn't find release soon she would go mad.

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The next day they had a run-in with one of the creatures that was known all along the Frontier. Like a small, reptilian wolf, skatchwen were fast and rapacious and in large enough packs could take down even large prey. The battle was short and Averill felt a momentary respite as her blades scythed into the cluster of the creatures and she felled several. The only redeeming quality they had was their long, thick tails were a source of good meat that the party harvested from among the dead animals and soon they were on their way again, and Averill fingered the bag at her hip several times during the day. Tonight she would gain some measure of satisfaction, and she would show the priest what a shame it was to deny yourself something that felt so good. She would turn the human boy into a man and in time he would thank her for it. She just needed to show him how to see the light of reason.

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They found the small fortified outpost late in the day and settled in for a few days of rest before continuing on to follow the map to their destination. The outpost was one of several all along the middle marches of the Frontier that had been established over the years, though no one knew who had done so. They were used by adventurers and were well maintained and clean, easily defended against all but the largest of the monsters along the Frontier, and trapped against the ferals. They did a thorough sweep of the building and locked the outer doors and windows before settling in for an extended stay. The dark of the moon was a dangerous time to be abroad on the Frontier, for some things woke only on these dark nights and while they were unable to breach the outpost, they had little fear of weapons or spells. The dark of the moon and the full of the moon were both times to be wary on the Frontier for different reasons. The full of the moon brought out packs of werewolves that were known to attack towns, flowing over the walls and leaving nothing but well gnawed bones and splattered blood in their wake. Small isolated villages and settlements had been known to vanish entirely in a single night.

But the dark of the moons was just as dangerous, if not more so. For among the many terrors that liked the darkness the vampires were chief. Averill had heard of vampires slipping over the walls of a city in the west and draining a few people. Usually the guards would find them and drag them out to die in the sun. But in this city they missed a single victim, and that one became three, and then those three had become nine, and by the next dark of the moon the entire city had fallen to the darkness. To this day the city stood as a necropolis, inviolable. Any who went in to investigate vanished, it was thought that ravening hordes of mindless thralls roamed the streets, bestial and insatiable. The walls had been sealed from without by spells and the labour of many, but from time to time some escaped and ravaged across the countryside before being brought down by adventurers. The city had been burned at least twice, but somehow still the monsters survived.

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Their gear was sorted and cleaned and they settled in for an early night, building a fire and setting up the stew pot and gaining a little distance from each other as they pumped water from the well and bathed in something resembling privacy. Averill bathed last, for it was her night to cook, and she was careful with her preparations. The wooden bowl she would pass to Aeric had some of her now dried herbs sprinkled in the bottom and she ladled the stew in on top of it. She placed the bowl in his hands with a friendly smile and a slightly lingering touch and Aeric, distracted by his sibling, missed both. It was infuriating to Averill but she let it pass without comment as she went to bathe, taking especial care of herself tonight and washing every nook and cranny of her body carefully and cleansing the raghtha oil from her skin and hair, brushing her dark hair back and making herself neat and clean. She wanted him to remember this night for the rest of his life. She smiled and hummed as she washed and had to work to school herself before she returned to the group of them, her clean clothes on and her leathers set aside for a pair of loose linen pants and a voluminous cotton shirt with nothing beneath them.

She crossed her legs near the fire, taking an opportunity to pass Aeric another bowl of drugged stew before settling in to clean her gear and check over her tools again. It was a calming, obsessive task that cleared her mind and allowed her to relax. Her hands slipped mindlessly and deftly over the tools, cleaning and oiling with soft cloths and making sure every tool she had was in the proper place for it. She took out a few small locks she had acquired over the years, each of a varying difficulty and spent time repeatedly locking and unlocking them as practice before she put everything away as the party started to settle in for sleep. Aeric had the first watch of the night and she could see he was already uncomfortable, shifting and trying to surreptitiously adjust his arousal. He looked confused and embarrassed and she had to fight the urge to smile, looking away from him and watching the others around the camp. Shaara was already bedding down for the evening, her turn on watch to come all too soon and Nylla was setting out blankets near the fire. Drogan had cleaned his gear and was on his fifth bowl of stew while Alyth was studying, her hammock strung up between two trees and the little opalescent crystal hung from her neck flashing as she played with it, casting white-gold rainbows of light.

Taking the cue from the rest of them, Averill put her things away and moved over to her bedroll, laying down and looking up at the stars and the darkening, twilight sky. Clouds were rolling in and tonight would be especially dark. She smiled at the thought of it and though she thought she saw three figures standing atop one of the walls, looking down at the group she said nothing, the idea not even occurring to her to mention them. They were a constant part of her life and she usually didn't even see them. Even when she did, she only saw them on the dark, misty nights like this one and no one else ever seemed to notice them. Her head reeled and her vision swam as she lay back and something seemed to reach into her head and switch her consciousness off as easily and quickly as she would blow out a candle. Her last sight before dreams took her was of the slightest of the three, a smaller, feminine form that seemed to be looking to her with a satisfied, approving smile and Averill smiled at the thought as she drifted off to sleep.

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Her dreams were dark, of conflict and bloodletting, but also of sex and brutal, violent coupling; the kind she most sought and most rarely found. Though as she woke for her turn at watch, seeing Nylla settle in for sleep she thought of more gentle, tender sex. Like that she had known before...

...Lillethe...

...that fever dream, like that she had not known in more than a year. She let the outrider have time to settle in and fall asleep before she moved silently over to Aeric and looked down at his face. His dreams were troubled and he twitched almost constantly but she could see his arousal even with his clothes still on and she smiled like the cat-in-the-cream as she caressed his turgid rod through his soft cotton pants and heard him moan and felt him press up against her hand at the feel of the caress and she lingered for a moment, the ache in her loins acute. But she wasn't ready just yet.

She moved around the camp and adjusted a few things here and there. It was unheard of in this place not to sleep with your weapons close at hand but she moved the iron rod that Drogan swung about so easily farther from his hand, so he could not grab it blindly, and then the sword away from Shaara and the bow from Nylla before moving over to Alyth and looking down at her pretty face and seeing the crystal resting in the slight valley between her small breasts, atop the cloth of her shirt and robes. She carefully used one of her tools to clip the chain to lift the crystal away she set it aside with her tools, forgetting about it the moment it was out of her hand. She moved quietly to the door that led from the shelter out into the Frontier and removed the bar and unlocked it before she turned back to the group that was sleeping safely around the camp fire. She had no idea why she was doing these things, and the memory of the doing vanished as soon as she turned away from each one until she turned back to the priest and focused on him, feeling the lust and need swell within her. She moved his mace away from his side, but had little fear of him waking long enough to take it up, for the drug she had given him would keep him almost insensate, though he would wake when she was ready.

A small knife appeared in her hand and she carefully cut his clothing away from his erection and looked at it in pleasure. It might be a sin for those of his order to partake of sex, but it was more of a sin to hide a treasure like this one away from women like her. For a human he was well endowed and the drug had made his cock as hard as it could be, almost painfully so and she took a moment to just gaze at it in lust and need. One slender hand stroked the soft flesh and she felt the heat of him under her hand and wrapped her fingers about his shaft and stroked him softly. He moaned gently in his sleep and she smiled in sheer innocent joy at the look and sound of him enjoying this forbidden thing. She had to move quickly then, standing and releasing her treasure reluctantly, she stripped out of her clothing before the small knife quickly divested him of the rest of his clothes and she tossed the rags aside before she and moved to straddle his hips. Her sex was bare and gushing in anticipation of this moment and she moaned as she straddled him, the hard rod of his manhood pressing against her sensitive, deprived sex as she ground her lips against his girth and moaned as a smile creased her lips and her eyes rolled back in her head. The underside of his rod rubbed heavily against her clit and sent spasms of pleasure through her body, and she savoured those feelings and the small orgasm that quickly came to her. But instead of relief, the pleasure made her need him even more.