The high green grass parted as a shadow of a figure crept through them, quickly, yet as silent as a hawk. The grasses became trees, an endless jungle that could overwhelm a seasoned explorer in minutes. But the jungle, in all its glory could not overwhelm one of its own; the jungle could not overwhelm the shadow, or one born of shadow. The darting shadow moved through the trees as if it were a clear path, following trails hidden among the dense underbrush. Suddenly, the shadow pauses on at the edge of a steep hill overlooking a crudely cut path. The path was a scar through the trees caused by the axes and torches of outlanders. But this scar made the outlanders easy to hunt, they only followed this path.
Another shadow appeared without sound at the flank of the first. In the dim light of the twin moons faint features can be seen by those who look close. The first shadow is a woman of awe inspiring beauty and at first glance, she appears to be an elf. Her body is lean, well muscled, but not overtly so. Her breasts, held in check by two diagonally placed strips of cloth are proportional, high against her chest and firm like a fruit ripe for picking. Her snow white hair is pulled back in series of braids that fall down her lithe back. A shell of oiled leather protects her firm midriff from piercing blades and a matching set of leather bracers guards her slender arms. A set of shin guards protect the beauty's lower legs and hide the strings of leather sandals that snake up her firm calves. The humid air has created a thin film of sweat to gleam off of her body. Her skin is the deepest shade of black, like a starless sky at midnight. The dark elf Illia is testament to the beauty of her race, a perfect blend of warrior prowess and erotic sensuality. Around her slender neck is a black thong holding a small yet heavy gold scorpion, marking her as a Jelvea Tur or Scorpion Slayer, a much honored rank among her people. Finding a Jelvea is hard, finding one that is small enough to fit around ones neck is harder still, and bull Jelvea which can reach the size of a small house, do not take kindly to one trying to steal their young.
Illia's partner, a dark elf male known as Yurel nocks an arrow into a bow made of the finest darkwood. The archer scans the trail with a practiced eye, looking for outlander scouts. He is taller and broader than his lithe companion his sculpted muscles bulge as he draws his bow string back. Wearing little more than leather harness for equipment and a set of leather trousers he has little protection. Yurel has always relied on his natural camouflage and his skills honed in over half a century of training than the trappings of armor. So far he stayed alive without too much injury, the patchwork of scars on his body are evidence to the dangers of his life. Out of the corner of his eye Yurel notices movement. Upon looking closer he sees an outlander, a pathetic human! Skulking through the brush along the side of the path the human is covered in bits of brush and twigs, a futile attempt at camouflage. Futile indeed, a dark elf could see as well at night as in the day. Yurel silently signals to Illia, but she has already seen the scout. Illia parts her lush lips and smiles. These outlanders have made it far too easy. Hunting intruders into the sacred lands of Teklamdor has turned from a sacred defensive duty to sport. Young dark elf warriors would boast about the numbers of skulls they had collected while their elders would look on beaming with pride. Outlanders had invaded the sacred lands of the dark elves, or drow in their native tongue, one hundred years past. A human explorer from a distant "empire" came looking to trade with the drow tribes living on the coast. The fools had agreed and than the pale skins came in droves. Armies landed upon the beaches and for all their glory, the coastal tribes were unable to repel the invaders. A string of towns soon popped up on the charred remains of drow villages and the outlanders began a campaign of exploiting the sacred homeland of Teklamdor. As the outlanders tried to expand their colonies inward, they soon realized drow were not the only threat the jungles had to offer. Monstrous war bands of giants began pillaging trade routes. Great, acid breathing dragons attacked caravans. Insects the size of horses made sure explorers were never seen again, all the while, the drow continued a relentless assault.
One by one the outlander cities began to fall until only two were left. Two massive fortresses constructed of outlander stone and reinforced with powerful magic became impregnable citadels that the foreign invaders hid in. Now, only private groups of adventurers and treasure seekers brave the jungles to find the rumored riches of the inhospitable land. Cities made out of gold, vast mines filled to the brim with diamonds, and ancient, powerful magic have drawn countless numbers to their deaths, though one or two groups make it back to their fortress homes laden relics and baubles and grand stories fraught with danger and adventure. These survivors always lead to more and more outlanders out of their protective homes and into their painful demise in the jungles of Teklamdor.
Illia readied her war chain as the human scout moved closer to the spot where she and Yurel laid in wait. The scout was good, she had to admit that. He moved silently and if his predators weren't drow, he probably would never been seen, unfortunately for him, Illia and Yurel were. The Jelvea Tur lashed out with her chain as the scout came into range. The weapon consisted of a length of light, black, chain fifteen feet long. A good three feet of the chain was adorned with hundreds of tiny hooks no bigger than a short nail, but as keen as razor. Poison gleamed in the moonlight on the tips of the hooks. The weapon shot out of underbrush and flew towards the scout. Guided by Illia's practiced hands the chain smashed into the human. The hooks dug in as the chain coiled around the scouts neck, crush his windpipe and shredding his skin while delivering a potent dose of poison. The scout dropped his blade and his hands swept up to the chain, franticly trying to unravel it and cry out to his companions. Illia pulled hard, snapping the human's neck. The only sound was a faint thump as his body slumped to the ground.
Lukas Kain cursed his luck. Being drafted into the Imperial Army was never a good thing. But he would have loved to been sent to any of the numerous battlefields the Empire was waging war upon other than Teklamdor. Few returned, and those who did usually lacked some of the body parts they initially had. There he was, sitting in front of a roaring fire in the Jester and Wench, with a tankard in each hand and a pocket full of gold(that had once been a merchants, but that's beside the point), when suddenly the door gets kicked in and Imperial soldiers storm the tavern hauling off anyone of "questionable occupation" and enlisting them in the Emperor's Glorious Army. Questionable occupations were what Lukas did. He was a thief, a courier, and a con man. He stole from the rich and gave to the... well; he just stole from the rich.
Lukas was crammed into an ill fitting breast plate that still had its former owner's blood on it, given a halberd, a helm and two months training. The training consisted of little more than a dwarf with tooth decay yelling at him and trainers pummeling him with practice swords. After that he was given an assignment(or death sentence), the Fort Herich, Teklamdor. A month's worth of travel dumped him in a tropical hell. The wind from the sea tore into him, the sun scorched his skin and the only shade was the jungle. Rule one about campaigning in Teklamdor, don't go in the jungle.
And that was where Lukas found himself now, they jungle. The thrice damned Captain Meitz decided that the duty of converting the dark elf savages to the "light" of the Eternal Lord Kalkos fell upon the men under his command. Hells, Lukas didn't even believe half the dribble the garrison cleric spat at them every Godsday. But orders were orders and not following them meant death. Well, most of the time following them meant death. The Imperial military really was a quagmire. Lukas sighed to himself, coughing as his chest was compacted by his tight plate.
Lukas made a decent fighter. Tall and agile he preferred a dueling blade or daggers to the heavy halberd he was forced to use. The armor just slowed him down while the helmet impeded his line of sight. His sweat soaked blond hair kept falling into his eyes, his boots were too small, his leather trousers were too big, and the blood flies seemed to find him the tastiest of any ten men in his squad. Hells he hated this place!
Yurel peered out of his hiding place and picked out a target among the ten men that walked into his view. This would be too easy. "Remember Yurel, leave one alive." Illia purred as she readied her chain to strike out again. Their village needed slaves for hard labor, humans were the easiest to capture. "I will if you remember." Yurel replied as he nocks another obsidian tip arrow.
The man in front of Lukas, a bury half-orc known as Yerzi dropped as an arrow imbeds itself in his thick, grey throat. The torch he carried fell out of his hands and plopped down in a puddle, extinguishing itself with a sizzle. Before Lukas can call out an alarm the sergeant, a vile woman named Kryza drops, an arrow in her eye. "Form up! Form up!" Lukas shouted. If the men had remembered their training, they may have flushed the hidden archer out, but, they didn't. Chaos ensued. Two men tore off into the jungle, only to have their screams heard shortly after. Lukas and the remaining men readied their halberds frantically trying to see their attackers.
"Kalkos deliver me!" A soldier named Jaeger prayed fervently as he stabbed at the darkness. Shortly after a chain whipped out of the trees and encircled his ankle. He stared down in horror and franticly hacked at the chain. He got two blows in before the chain jerked and tore him from his feet, hitting the ground hard. His helm fell off his head with a clatter. He began to shriek in pain as the chain dragged him into the trees despite his frantic clawing of the ground. "Frederic, Vitz, with me!" Lukas shouted, unwilling to let the only soldier he didn't want to kill himself be dragged off into the jungle. "The rest of you stay here."
Kain tore off into the trees, cutting through the dense trees with his halberd. Three paces in and Lukas found Jaeger, his head bent awkwardly to the side, his neck bulging. He braced his halberd in a defensive posture and scanned around.
"Come on out." Lukas stuttered. "I'm warning you. There is another squad coming up the road, another legion .The whole damn Imperial Army." He was shaking so hard a simple glance would tell that he was lying; Suddenly the shadows in front of him seemed to explode outwards and into him, slamming him out of the path he craved and onto his back, skidding to a stop back out on the crudely built road. Lukas groaned in pain. He could feel a large dent in the plate digging into his chest from where he was attacked. Darkness was pulling at the corners of his eyes, threatening to overwhelm him.
The sounds of combat: steel upon steel, the screams of the dying, filled the warm night air. Lukas painfully rolled his head to the side. He was staring into the mutilated face of his sergeant, the back of the arrow poked into his head, connecting him with the fleshy pulp of his former leader. The daze left and was replaced with an overwhelming sense of nausea. He looked up, towards the sounds of battle. The reaming men were fighting off a demon in with black skin. A very, very attractive demon, he thought to himself. Damn being a male. His sense back with him Lukas came up with a plan. He unfastened his breastplate while the she-demon, no, not a demon, a dark elf, was toying with the reaming legionnaires. He rose to his feat while tearing his helmet from his head and shouted out. "Take this you elven bitch!" With that he hurled the pot helmet at the back of the drow warrior. And then he ran.
Illia instinctively ducked as the improvised missile hurtled towards her. The helmet whizzed over her and bashed one of the humans in the face. His cry of surprise was soon ended by an arrow to the neck. Illia quickly finished off the few men left and cocked an eyebrow at the helmet. "Yurel, where did that come from?" She asked, rolling up the chain, mindful not to cut herself. "One of the humans threw it." Yurel replied stepping out of tree line. He made a quick count of the dead. "And it appears that the human ran away."
The two drow looked at each other, than towards the sound of rapid foot falls. A lone human warrior with long, blond, hair and without weapons or armor ran down the road away from the combat. Yurel took aim with his bow.
"Shall I?" He asked as he tracked the man.
"No we need one alive, I will go after him." Illia replied attaching the chain to her belt. "I will meet back at the village before tomorrow night." "If you wish."
"It'll be fun." With that Illia tore off after the human, darting between the trees and heavy underbrush, quickly closing on her prey.
Lukas didn't know he could run this fast. Of course he never had the opportunity to try. Sure the guards occasionally chased him, but they were easily avoidable. A she devil with a chain that was another story. He sprinted back up the trail running as hard as he could, but soon succumbing to fatigue. His sides cramped, his legs were sore, and his chest ached from where he was hit. Hells he hated this place. He reached a shoddily constructed bridge spanning the length of river before collapsing in a panting heap.
"Well, I didn't think you would make it this far outlander." A feminine voice called out in Imperial. To Lukas, her voice was like a chorus of evil angels. He turned to see the attractive chain fighter. A strange feeling of lust and fear struck, mostly fear though. Lukas began back peddling.
"How do you speak my language?" Kain shouted out, trying to stall for time.
"Ignorant Outlander. I am a Speaker as well as a Jelvea Tur. I speak many languages." Illia slowly followed the human onto the bridge.
"Jelvu-what? Never mind, why did you attack me and my men?"
"Why did you come here?" Illia countered.
"To convert heathens into... Good point." Lukas replied after he thought about the situation. "I'd of killed 'em to."
"You care so little for your comrades?" Illia inquired.
"Those bastards? Well except for Jaeger, I'm kind of glad you killed them." He said sheepishly.
How odd. The apathy towards ones comrade was what originally tore the Great Drow Empire apart. Now Illia would throw her life away for any of her fellow soldiers. This human was interesting, she might not hurt him too much now.
"This Jaegar, was he your mate?" Illia asked, curious about the human's nature.
"What? No, no not at all! He was just a friend!" Lukas stammered out, surprised by the question. "Do dark elf men, you know, together?" Illia arched an eyebrow obviously confused at what Lukas was saying. He tried again, willing to talk about anything to try to keep himself alive. "Do men lie with men? Um, do they share passions. Do they..." Lukas tried to think of another way to say it.
"Fuck. Do males fuck one another? That is the human word isn't it, fuck? To thrust ones member into another male's..." Illia answered.
"Yes!" Lukas cut in. "That is the human word for it."
"Well yes, don't human males?" Illia asked again, curious to how this conversation was going to play itself out. This man was one of the more interesting males she'd captured.
"Well, um I've heard some do. Rarely in the Empire, the Empire's Church of Kalkos tends to frown on things like that."
"I don't know, it's a sin of some sort. That's never stopped some of the priests, but I don't know, I don't really believe any of that sinning bullshit anyways."
"You have a fascinating culture human." Illia replied looking at him the way she would a creature at a zoo.
"Um, thanks, I think. So dark elf men really, fuck each other. Wow." Lukas continued stalling for time.
"Men lay with men, men lay with women, and women lay with women. There are so many ways to die in the jungle why not lay with who you enjoy?" She felt a new heat begin to wash over her, a heat not from the jungle as she remembers the many passionate nights spent between the bed sheets with men and women.
"A decent point." A few moments of silence passed when Lukas asked. "So, are you going to kill me now?"
"No. Your going to be sold into slavery." Illia replied as she began to walk towards him. Lukas slowly began to crawly backwards, the bridge rocking with each step.
"Come now! You don't need to sell me! You said I was interesting." He pleaded.
"Well you are interesting, and you look like you could be fun." Lukas balked at this comment. "But my tribe demands that I bring a slave back."
Suddenly the bridge cracked and lurched to one side. Decades of use should have wrecked the crude structure, but time was making up for itself. The bridge careened to the side hurling a very surprised Illia and Lukas into the river below. The strong current swept the pair up river, tossing them like stones. Illia kicked her legs out and forced herself to remain upright, trying to keep her head above the water. Lukas went under, fast.
Underwater, drowning, and scraping up against the rock floor, hells he hated this place! Lukas tried to swim upwards, but he was spinning so fast he didn't know which way was up. He kicked his legs hard and felt something hard crack him in the head. Than all he knew was darkness.
Illia looked around for the human. Damn outlander lost himself under the water! She cursed her luck and dove beneath the raging water, unwilling to lose her hard earned slave. Feeling around her hand hit something fleshy. Groping around she found what felt like a belt. Hoisting upwards with all her strength Illia and her unconscious slave broke the surface of the water. The drow wrapped an arm around Lukas's skinny torso and dragged him towards a nearby shore. Illia felt her feet hit the ground when the pair was blasted with another swell and pulled back into the roaring river. Scanning the area ahead while trying to keep Lukas from drowning, Illia's heart froze. The water seemed to flow over the edge of the earth and drop down into oblivion. Illia knew that this river broke over a waterfall, though she had never seen the falls with her own eyes. The drow had a feeling she would see it very soon. The last sound she was the roar of the falls. Than Illia slipped into unconsciousness.
Lukas awoke with an aching head, but luckily he managed to find a pillow to rest his weary head upon. He rolled onto his stomach. The bed stirred below him. Wait. Beds don't move, nor are they this uncomfortable he thought to himself. Opening his eyes he looked down. He was lying on top of Illia's semiconscious body. And her top was off. He stared at the beauty before him. Her breasts weren't the largest he'd ever seen, but at the same time, neither were they the smallest. They were perfectly proportional to her body, and quite perky. Her nipples pointed upwards and were a slightly lighter color than her obsidian skin, possessing a purplish hue. Lukas immediately felt his member begin to harden.
Illia felt like the weight of the world was on her body. Opening her violet eyes she looked down to see the Outlander's head between her breasts. She unintentionally moaned as she felt the human's hot breath wash of over her sensitive nipples.
"Lick them my pet..." Illia muttered in Drow. Than as her head cleared she realized what was happening. "Get off me you bastard!" Illia slapped her hand down on the human's head.