Drow in the City Ch. 01

Her exertions had left her starved and thirsty, and a little tipsy after all the wine she and her lovers had consumed, and she needed food and hydration badly. The music was lighthearted, a halfling with a flute playing a whimsical tune next to a burning hearth several tables away from her. She idly stirred her stew as she examined her surroundings. Halflings, half-elves, and elves were all in attendance, with several other common races interspersed throughout. She was not unaware of several accusatory and unsavory glares that were aimed her way from time to time, but that fact did not dampen the post-multi-orgasmic glow that radiated from her.

Lura was content, for the moment, to ignore her surroundings and enjoy her food and music while Cyra and Mikhail napped soundly on the second floor. A spoonful of the steaming soup rose to her mouth and she was halfway through her bite when a leather-clad elf sat across from her, staring at her but saying nothing. As she savored the delightfully seasoned stew, she examined the elf's features.

Her jaw and chin were delicate, yet strong in a feminine sense. Her eyes were cunning, and glinted in the dim light with strength and power. Lura found the elf intriguing, at least in a physical sense. Her leathers fitted to her frame like a glove, accentuating strong curves and taut limbs, formed from decades of physical work.

"Don't see many of your kind here," she finally said when Lura swallowed her stew. "A decade ago, you might have been attacked on sight."

"Times change," Lura said sweetly. Her harsh, drow accent contrasted starkly with the musical timbre of her visitor.

"That they do," her counterpart said. She leaned forward, planting her forearms and elbows on the table while interlocking her thin fingers. Lura couldn't resist a glance at her bosom as her arms pressed the compact orbs together. "My name is Iliara," she purred, sweeping her tongue over her lips. She held out a hand, palm down and fingers extended.

Lura looked from the gold elf's lips to her fingers, and then to her eyes. She took the fingers into her hand and brought the digits to her lips, then kissed them with a lingering kiss with her full, soft lips. "I am Lura Darklust," she replied in a husky voice.

"Darklust?" Iliara queried, retracting her hand to smell the dark elf's scent. Her eyebrows perked when she smelled the distinct scent of female arousal and masculine discharge. A smirk quickly swept across her face. "That does not sound like a traditional drow House surname."

"It is of my own choosing," Lura replied, her pouty lips turning up into a small smile. "I am a bard, and a servant of Sune, Goddess of Love and Passion. Darklust is a representation of the life I have chosen: singing, loving, lusting, and serving Lady Firehair."

"And this Lady Firehair," Iliara started, a sarcastic smirk on her face as she turned sidelong to the drow. "Do you serve her in bed as well? Is it her musk that your fingers and lips left on my hand?"

"Would that it were," Lura grinned. "No, lovely Iliara, the scent I left on your hand is from my lovers upstairs, whom I left contented and exhausted on the bed."

"Lucky them," Iliara said quietly, biting her lip. "Well then, perhaps I can buy the lovely Lura Darklust a drink? Some wine, perhaps, or a honey mead?"

"I must decline," Lura said, rising slowly. Her robe barely clung to her black-skinned frame, baring most of her thighs and cleavage as she leaned over the table. "I have consumed enough elven wine to last me at least a tenday," she explained. "But perhaps, another time, we can get to know each other a bit better. I fear I have business in the Temple District much to early for my liking."

A knowing grin spread across Iliara's face, and she stood slowly. "I tend not to leave my room during the daylight hours," she said. "After sunset, you will find me down here for at least a couple hours before my own business takes me out and about." She winked, licking her lips again.

"A vampire!" Lura said in mock alarm. "I should have known, with such enchanting eyes. Night time it is, Lady Vampire."

Grinning all the wider, Iliara nodded. "Ware your neck, lovely, for my bite is sharp."

"Good," Lura said, and departed quickly, before the gold elf could form a response.

*****

Iliara swallowed her revulsion. The drow, beautiful though she certainly was, disgusted her. Her mere mention of Sune and her edicts of love and passion grated against the cruel life she had known from lovers. Her thoughts crept back to the disappointment and heartbreak Tobin had caused her, but she crushed that weakness with a force of will. Shar would not have it, and Iliara would not abide it.

She hurried to her room. The sky was lightening to a pale, pre-dawn blue, and the light of day would weaken the effects of her blackstalk mushrooms. In her dresser, in its case, the blackstalk awaited her. She thought of inhaling the blackstalk vapor, or letting a fiber dissolve on her tongue, but she needed something more direct, more potent. A vial of black liquid, blackstalk extract, sat wrapped in black silk next to the mushroom itself. Such a thing was very costy, and she would not be able to replace the vial any time soon, but her meeting with the drow bitch demanded no less.

Iliara unwrapped the vial and removed the stopper. The odor was so powerful in its assault of her senses, that she doubled over, vomiting on the wooden floor. She steeled herself, wiping the bile from her lips and lifting her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She poured a half the vial on the soft tissue beneath the dexterous muscle and dropped the rest of the vial as her throat immediately clenched. Burning pain filled her mouth and spread down her neck, deep into her bosom. She clutched her chest tightly, in futility, but the pain passed and she lay, catatonic, on the wooden floor.

Body paralyzed, her mind went into overdrive. Lucid, surreal images flitted through her consciousness. Then there was only silky blackness. And Shar. Always Shar. The woman looked at her through eyes like black pits. Her black hair floated as if gravity had left the area, and the naked, ivory-skinned woman emerged from a curtain of black. Shar's breasts heaved as her legs carried her toward Iliara, who even in this shadow-land lay prone on the floor. The goddess reached down with hands that ended on long, black nails, sharp as razors, and scratched fine lines across the soft flesh of Iliara's compact breasts. Shar continued downward, over her stomach, to her thighs, then began back up.

Suddenly, Shar was standing imperiously over her, pristine ivory skin shining in the inky blackness as a riding crop cracked hard on her loins. Somehow, though she could not comprehend it, Iliara had come to lay on her back, legs spread wide, and Shar was dominating her as only the cruel goddess could.

"This is how you turn her!" the goddess screamed inside Iliara's head. "As I showed Sharess the beauty and pleasure of pain incarnate, you will show Sune's Chosen and turn her from Sune! Lura Darklust will be mine, and such is my revenge upon Sune!"

*****

Lura's red robe conformed to her needs, wrapping itself around her in a form-fitting, elegant red dress suspended by one thin strap that wrapped around the back of her neck, leaving her upper back exposed to the crisp air. Her hair, by virtue of a pleasantly surprising enchantment in her robe, wove itself into intricate braids, forming a delicate makeshift crown of her fine hair around her skull. Her red lock of hair hung down the side of her face, caressing her soft, black cheek. One side of her violet-hued lips was curled up into a smirk as she sprinkled some rose dust on her eyelids, which was brought out by her red lock of hair. Thus was her appearance for her mission now: to find a suitable location for a second Dancing Rose in Everlund.

There were no true temples in Everlund, merely shrines to various deities, such as Mielikki, Malar, Shiallia and others. There was, however, All Faith's Hall, which served as a gathering place for people of different faiths. She took her time appreciating the Lady's Tree, which served as Mielikki's shrine, though. The leaves were beginning to golden, but none fell despite the coming cold. A half-elven woman was tending the shrine, singing softly to herself. Lura was entranced by the faint melody that even her keen elven ears barely heard over the rustling of leaves.

The half-elf saw her then, suddenly stopping her chores and staring at the drow as Lura stared back. A shadow fell over the half-elf's face, her lips tightening and her brow furrowing. Lura smiled, almost expecting the reaction, and strode toward the gated shrine. She placed her delicate-looking black hands on the wood, smiling merrily at the half-elf.

"Who are you?" the half-elf asked curtly. "What do you want?"

"My name is Lura," the drow said disarmingly. A bit of her bard habits crept into her demeanor as she smiled, her eyes glinting, and her natural charisma shone forth. "I am a visitor to this city, and a servant of Sune." She held her hand out, clean now of the scent of her lovers. The half-elf arched a delicate brow at her and brushed some impudent chestnut strands from her face. Lura retracted, taking no offense and retaining her amiable smile.

"I am Athytia Starbreeze. I am Mielikki's servant and the keeper of the Lady's Tree, Her shrine. I ask you again, Lura of Sune, what do you want?"

"Not much," the drow said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Athytia Starbreeze. Perhaps our next meeting will be more...productive." Lura punctuated her statement with a wink, a slow turn, and began to stride away, leaving the keeper of the Lady's Tree with a bewildered, but curious, expression on her face.

The encounter left a lingering smile on Lura's face as she fancied the various scenarios that she could seduce the half-elf. The most intriguing of which was high up in the strong limbs of the Lady's Tree. She could already imagine the feeling of the rough bark on her back while Athytia thrust her tongue in and out...

The drow shook her head clear of such thoughts. Or rather, she tucked them away for further review in a more private setting. She could feel the fires already building between her legs, but forced herself to focus on her current task with typical drow control.

She had roamed most of the day, and her stomach began to grumble in hunger around mid-afternoon, when she returned to the Dreaming Dragon. She had taken note of several potential locations, most of them in the richer sections of the city, and felt that she'd accomplished much. Work was over with, now she could eat, play, rest, whatever her lustful drow heart desired. As she walked through the portal into the Dreaming Dragon, her Red Robe changed to suit her whim into a loose, soft gown with a daring neckline, low back, and a short skirt that danced just above her knees. Her black legs shone in the light of magical orbs that lit the walls. She looked down to her feet, smiling at the high-heeled affairs donning them, and the glittering gemstones, matching the crimson paint on her toenails, that rested atop her foot.

Her hair fell in loose, wavy lengths about her shoulders, back and breasts, with the crimson lock of hair weaving in and out of the shiny strands. She took a seat and a round table near the entrance, alone, and crossed her legs under the table as a handsome halfling made his way to the table. He was dressed in a waiter's garb, and held a circular tray in one hand. "What can I get for you, beautiful?" he asked with a charming smile.

"I need something light to eat," she said, gracing him with a broad smile. "What do you suggest, master halfling?"

He sidled up next to her, placing the tray on the table and leaning toward her. "You'd be amazed at what halflings like myself can accomplish," he said suggestively, placing a hand over his crotch. Lura was more amused than intrigued, but she licked her lips for effect, even as he pulled himself away and stood up straight. "A fresh delivery of field greens and vegetables has just arrived, my lady drow. Perhaps a salad, with some fresh mushrooms and a vinaigrette?"

"Sounds delicious," she purred.

"And might I suggest a glass of elverquisst," he said. "The Dreaming Dragon boasts the finest in Everlund."

"Certainly," she said, her mouth watering a bit at the potent elven wine. "Your service has been exemplary, master halfling."

"Please, call me Benefast," he said. "Benefast Smoothtongue."

"Master Smoothtongue, then," she said. "I am Lura Darklust, of Sune."

"A pleasure," the halfling said as he took Lura's hand, kissing it. "I'll return shortly with your order."

He turned to leave, but as he departed he was replaced just as quickly with a scowling halfling female. "You'll have to excuse my brother," she said. Her voice was high-pitched, almost like a young girl's, but rich with age and experience. "He's a bit of a womanizer. At least, that's what he tells his friends. I'm Donnara Smoothtongue, Benefast's sister and part-time proprietor of this establishment. I hope he didn't come on too strong for you, being drow and all."

Lura smiled sweetly at the halfling and replied, "Not at all, Madam Smoothtongue." She brushed a lock of silvery hair from her face. "He was quite charming, and amusing."

"Ah," Donnara said, lips pursed. "I had thought that the drow were less than welcoming of such frivolity and flirtation, especially from 'lesser races.'"

"It is true," Lura said, "but I am unlike my kin. I am a bard, and a follower of Sune. I enjoyed his attention, as I enjoy your attention, though it is not in the same light as his. I follow my passion, and love, wherever it takes me, Madam Smoothtongue."

"Please, Donnara is fine. Smoothtongue is such a mouthful," Donnara said, then blushed fiercely as Lura's grin turned into a smirk at her word choice. "Well, I can leave you on your own now, I suppose."

"Nonsense," Lura said. "I am alone for now, and would enjoy your company, Donnara." The halfling smiled brightly, then sat across the table. Lura found herself admiring the cherubic, feminine features of the halfling's face, and the curly brown hair that careened down to her shoulders. She was dressed modestly, but in fine materials that denoted her economic status. Her white blouse was ruffled at the neckline, with sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms, and she wore a tan vest over it, which was tight to her form. Lura was pleased to note that Donnara was quite in shape, despite the predominant halfling disposition to enjoy food and luxury a bit too much. Her waist was slim, even while her breasts remained bountiful and firm.

She could not see the lower half of the halfling for the table, but knew she was wearing a skirt of fine silk that was settled on wide (for a halfling) hips. Lura found herself imagining the halfling naked and sweating when Benefast returned, a scowl on his face.

"My lady Lura, your salad and elverquisst," he said, setting her lunch and wine on the table before her. The drow caught the halfling glance at the obsidian valley between her breasts, before he shot a glare at his sister. "I trust Donnara hasn't completely ruined my chances with you?"

"Not quite," Lura said before Donnara could speak, drawing a curious look from the female. Lura looked over Benefast and took note of his stature. He, too, had the firm, fit look that his sister carried so well, and even with such a small frame, he seemed to be gifted with compact, strong musculature. A quick, subtle glance and she noted a distinctive package tucked tightly into his light brown breeches.

"You need to pay more attention to your job, Bene, and less to courting every set of breasts that walk through that door, even if they are as nice as Lady Lura's," Donnara said, irritation in her voice. Lura stared at her, though, and contemplated the compliment she had just been given. Was Donnara coming on to her too? Another, more interesting prospect occurred to her. Were they both coming on to her?

They read her expression, and her thoughts, as clearly as if she had spoken them, and she busied herself by taking the first bit of her salad. Several leaves of lettuce, a few slices of carrot, a chunk of mushroom, graced with the dark, vinaigrette dressing were impaled onto her fork, and she took her bite. Flavor exploded in her mouth, and she couldn't help but let out a small, satisfied moan as she slowly chewed. She swallowed, and took a sip of her elven wine. That, too, almost exploded onto her tongue. The aroma filled her nose as she felt all the distinctive layers of flavor weaving themselves over her tongue. She swallowed, and her eyes were alit with refreshed vigor from the experience.

"She likes it," Benefast said, smiling. "I knew she would!"

"I've never doubted your ability to read someone's palate so well," his sister said as Lura busied herself with her salad. "For all your faults, you're a damn good waiter."

Lura would have agreed, but she was too immersed in her salad. After a few quick moments, the salad was gone, and Lura was smiling happily. "Best salad I've ever had," she said, putting a hand on her slim stomach.

"Perhaps dessert, then," Benefast said, a sly grin on his face. Lura half-expected Donnara to protest, but he noticed that she, too, had a sly look on her face.

"Brother and sister?" Lura asked, skeptically.

"We come from a free-loving clan of halflings," Donnara said, putting a hand on Benefast's forearm. "Our mother was the bedmate of many a lucky halfling, as were many women in our village. We are only half-siblings, not that our clan ever had such taboos. Every now and again, I'll let him bed me, because he is a very skilled lover. When we saw you, we decided that it would be best to share, rather than fight over you."

Lura's smile widened with every word. "I am honored, to be sure," she said, her voice husky, "but--"

"Lura," Mikhail said, coming up from behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them softly as his fingers tickled the fringes of her hair. Her head instinctively lolled to the side, and he bent down, kissing the delicate length of her neck.

"We know about your lovers," Donnara said. "We wouldn't dare infringe on such things."

"We understand the value many place on monogamous relationships, or bonds with their bedmates, so we took the initiative to speak to your lover, Mikhail, as well as the tiefling," Benefast said.

"My only stipulation was that I got to watch. Or join, whichever," Mikhail said, standing next to the drow. He cradled her head in his hand as she looked up at him lovingly.

"What of Cyra?" Lura asked.

"She's...occupied," he said, a small grin on his face. "She'll be out and about for most of the day, said she'd return near dusk."

"Hm," Lura said. It was a curious thing, but she never questioned Cyra's judgment, and wouldn't begin to now. Instead, she leaned forward, hands under the table, and slid her palm up Benefast's leg. She felt him tense up, but he relaxed immediately, especially when her hand found the tightly-packed bundle at the crotch of his pants. "Now? In the middle of the day?"

"What better time?" Donnara asked, her voice husky.

The process of standing from the table and walking upstairs was a blur to Lura. She had led Mikhail, Donnara, and Benefast through the doors, and was surprised when Mikhail seized her by the shoulders and pushed her, hard, onto the bed. She fell face first, and rolled over instantly to her back as Benefast scrambled nimbly onto the high bed, crawling quickly to lock his lips with the voluptuous drow.

Mikhail stood at the foot of the bed and removed his shirt, revealing his finely chiseled torso, looking much more toned and hard since their trip from Silverymoon and the vigorous sexual exploits he had enjoyed with his female companions. Donnara veritably purred like a contented tigress as her hands latched onto his rippling stomach. The human, standing chest, shoulders and head over the halfling, casually hooked his thumb on the breach of his pants, undoing it, and leaving a perfectly shaved glimpse into what his pants held for her. Licking her lips and looking up at the grinning human, Donnara's strong, agile fingers reached into the smooth pants, across his smooth pubic region, and grasped her fingers around his slowly thickening member. She gasped when she pulled the cock out of his pants, her eyes widening. It was a good deal larger than she had anticipated, and the thick, veiny cock already had a droplet of clear precum resting on the head.