Rope Magic

Brianna Anderson laid awake in her bedroll, staring up at the clear night sky and praying the symphony of crickets would finally lull her to sleep. It was probably well after midnight, and she and Micah needed to be back on the road in five hours if they had any hope of reaching Highmoon by tomorrow evening. She suspected her insomnia was caused by excitement. Highmoon was one of the few planned city stops on their journey to the legendary Buried Barracks of Thunder Peak, and she was eager to get a taste of civilization before the pair descended into the mountains. Or, more accurately, she was eager to spend tomorrow night in the company of someone other than Micah.

It wasn't that she disliked the half-elf mage that slept on the other side of the smoldering campfire, she was actually quite fond of him as a travel companion. But he certainly didn't provide the thrill she expected when she signed up for the two-person, long distance contract for The Artifact lost deep within the Buried Barracks.

"Oh well, lucky you," Bri recalled the crooning voice of the Task Master Delegator back home in Myth Drannor. "Looks like the first spot for this fetch quest has already been claimed by a 'Micah Rose.' He's a highly regarded professor at the College. You two should have a lot of fun." She remembered the old woman's deceptive wink. It was enough to cause Bri great disappointment when she finally met the man shortly before they departed on their demanding mission.

Micah wasn't bad looking, just very much not her type. Bri was a brawler. She had slashed, clawed, and stabbed her way from the underground tumble rings to serve as a Three Star private contractor for the Task Masters. However, when selecting a bed mate, she wanted a man who could make her feel like a weak-kneed maiden. A man who could toss her over his shoulder like a rag doll before ravishing her like she was a whore in debt. A man who wasn't anything like her clean and soft-spoken accomplice.

However, over the past month, Bri would say they formed a decent enough friendship. Despite a resume bursting with academia experience, Micah quickly proved himself competent in battle, using his mastery of elements to create both destructive waves and restorative auras. At times, she felt her abilities to be almost secondary to his varied skill set. Thankfully, with the recent uptick in monsters and violent thieves within the Cormanthor Forest, Bri had plenty of opportunities to hack, maim, and decapitate her self-confidence back into place.

Although the pair differed wildly in their upbringing, mannerisms, and formal education, conversation flowed naturally. Bri felt extremely comfortable opening up to Micah, and he never pressed her for any more than she readily shared. He seemed to have a knack for knowing when to advise, and when to just listen. And, most importantly, when there was nothing to talk about on the long stretches of trails, they both welcomed the occasional silence, a priceless trait so many people of their generation lacked.

All the while, Bri's lack of physical attraction to Micah was apparently mutual. She struggled with this a bit at first, as she had never spent so much time alone with a man without him trying to kiss her, or bed her, or profess his undying love. She knew she was a rather enchanting woman, with deep blue eyes that popped through long and wild crimson tresses. At the age of 29, she still had plenty of youthful energy, but the maturity to know how to use it. And, although a bit scarred from battles, her body was healthy and deceptively strong; her war-earned musculature supporting soft curves. Yet somehow, she had never even caught him stealing glances as she changed clothing. She had thought maybe he simply lacked the ability to be attracted to her and probed into this further. However, when she turned the conversation towards romantic relationships back in Myth Drannor, she learned Micah has had several female companions over the years!

Well, what's wrong with me then? She recalled thinking, crossing her arms and boosting up her full chest. Eventually, Bri decided that Micah's feelings may just be aligned with hers; maybe she just wasn't his type.

She did learn to appreciate their platonic relationship two weeks into their quest for The Artifact. They were at their first city stop since home, enjoying their first cold drink and friendly company in weeks. Bri had selected her target from the patrons at the bar, a large city guardsman who was off duty.

"Don't wait up for me," was the only discussion needed before she went off with the brute of a man, and no awkwardness or hurt feelings were had when they rejoined the following morning.

Bri smiled as she thought of the big man she met two weeks prior. Gods, it felt like a lifetime ago. She never even got his name, but that didn't matter. Not like she could have asked, seeing as he shoved her mouth full of his cock as soon as they closed the door to her room.

Just a few more hours. She closed her eyes hard, trying not to think about how good the nameless man felt. It will come sooner if you just sleep. Stop thinking about how he mounted you, and that massive cock stretching you, and the way he groaned when it erupted inside you. Damn it.

She emptied her mind and forced herself into a meditative state. She focused on the solid dirt beneath her bedroll, and every small rock she could feel through it. She inhaled deeply the scent of the nighttime spring forest; damp moss, new and weak blooms, and the smokey oak charcoal as their campfire continued to die. She tuned her ears to the orchestra of nature that emerges after sunset; crickets, frogs, an owl in the distance, Micah's breathing, uncharacteristically erratic and audible over the soft pops of the glowing embers.

Bad dream perhaps? He was normally a silent sleeper, another trait Bri appreciated about him, and such sounds were enough to raise a bit of concern over her friend.

She opened her eyes and lolled her head over to gaze across the fire pit, only to snap it back as soon as she caught a glimpse of her travel companion. The movements coming from the waist area within his bedroll were the universal and unmistakable maneuvers of a man stroking his cock, albeit with immense discretion.

Bri considered calling out to him, shocking him into stopping. Who did he think he was, comfortably masturbating less than twenty feet from her, while she sat in sexual agony? Although it was never discussed, she had refrained from touching herself at any time during their travels, assuming it would be torturous for him to catch her in the act. She also never imagined that prudish Micah was a very sexual being, figuring he just didn't have the same needs of most men. Afterall, he had been travelling side by side with a beautiful woman for a month now and had made no attempts at intimacy.

What could he possibly be thinking about to cause such urgent self-abuse? Maybe some distant elven lover back home? Or maybe it had just been so long for him, that his body was demanding release before it would rest? She recalled an interaction between the two of them this morning. Bri had awoken earlier than Micah and took advantage of the privacy by bathing in a nearby waterfall. Towards the end of her bath, when she looked out past the cascade, she remembered seeing his figure hastily retreating with his own grooming supplies in hand. Although it wasn't the first time their close proximity and lack of amenities led to some awkward crossings, maybe seeing the fiery warrior lathering up her naked breasts finally became too much for the modest mage to bare.

Whether accurate or not, the idea that she may have aroused any man to the point of such insomnia turned her on immensely. She couldn't help but allow her eyes to glance back over to Micah.

Gods, she could see how women might find him attractive. The dim glow of the coals accentuated his sharper features and clenched jaw. His normal soft, green eyes were closed, brow furrowed tightly with intense focus. The past two weeks wandering the wilderness had created a bit of stubble on his previously smooth-shaven face, and the blondish, shoulder-length hair Bri normally saw tied up tightly during the day was let down and wild. He almost looked rugged. Bri very much liked rugged.

Damn it. She forced herself to roll away from the scene before her body betrayed her judgements. She hoped that she was still convincingly pretending to be asleep while she repositioned in such a way that allowed her to cover both ears. She would grant him the basic privacy out of respect for their friendship, and not because she was becoming dangerously tempted to walk across the campsite and straddle his smug, stupid face.

***

Bri must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up far too late. It was unusual for either of them to sleep past sunrise, let alone on the same morning. They made haste of packing up their camp and continued westward down the trail towards Highmoon.

"Are you alright?" Micah said sometime later, catching Bri by the forearm as she slipped in the mud.

"I'm fine Micah." She replied, briefly accepting his hand. "I'll survive a bit of mud." She yanked her boot from the sinking pit of sludge.

"Oh, I don't doubt that." He wiped the mud from his palm. "But stumbling is rather uncharacteristic of you. Hence, wondering if you felt alright."

No, I don't. I caught you doing something nearly every person does on a regular basis, and it shattered my illusion of you being some sort of pious priest. "I feel fine! Just anxious to get to Highmoon." It was a half-truth.

"Oh, me too." Micah sighed. "I hear there's an inn with the softest king-sized mattresses and largest bottles of Ever mead. I cannot wait to just sprawl out with a nice full glass of wine, and finally make some headway on my manuscript."

"No interest in meeting the locals?" Bri probed, as they began back down the trail.

"Eh, perhaps. I did want to ask you about that. You said we were a day ahead of schedule a while back?"

Bri had been overseeing the navigation so Micah could tackle any surprise obstacles that could befall them. She paused and pulled out the map, reviewing her markings. "Huh, yeah, I guess we still are."

"I was hoping to spend an extra night in Highmoon. I think we should be well rested before we take on the Thunder Peak Mountains."

She couldn't think of any obvious reason why not. The three-month time frame they were given certainly had a grace period if they got caught up later in their journey. With any other companion or party, Bri would have been concerned about paying for two nights in what she assumed would be a very expensive inn. However, Micah traveled with an uncomfortably large amount of gold, unconcerned about the highway bandits or thieves. "Sure, sounds nice."

***

Once in Highmoon, it didn't take long to find the inn Micah had referenced. While it wasn't the most opulent of lodgings, it was certainly the largest. Highmoon was at a major crossroads and hosted many adventurers, and The Handsome Hill Tavern and Inn was the most popular of accommodations.

"Two king rooms for two nights, please." Micah requested from the clerk as Bri surveyed the busy bar. She learned early in their travels it was futile to argue with his generosity. Besides, her paltry coin purse could barely afford bunk lodging, which was not ideal for her plans tonight.

"Oh dear," the clerk nervously flipped through the pages of her logbook. "For two beds, it looks like we just have bunks open at the moment..." The look on Micah's face was enough to make the clerk keep searching. "Or... we do have one king bed available, but it is in a suite! Very large room, plus a sizable chaise, it could sleep as many as two rooms." She explained.

Micah reluctantly accepted and paid as the bell hop whisked their packs away on the trolley. "Well, I'm off to make friends with the barkeep. Are you good?" Micah handed off a heavy key to Bri as she nodded, distracted trying to identify the most attractive yet unattached men. "Happy hunting!" He said with a laugh, patting her on the shoulder as he drifted by.

Her attempt to find a suitable mate proved to be more of a challenge than she hoped. There were plenty of men that fit her physical desires. Rough and brawny warrior types, any of which could hoist Bri up and easily fuck her against the wall. Unfortunately, there was a need for some exchanging of words before making such a request.

Her first target turned out to be a very recent widower, and apparently, it's in poor taste to proposition a man the day after his wife's funeral.

The second seemed more interested in her sword than the hips the scabbard laid on. Not a terribly unexpected situation, the Orphan-Smith was a very special piece of steel. However, when Bri got in close to say "Oh? Well, I'd also like to give your sword a try..." she expected the response to be overwhelming lust. Not "Sword? I clearly use an axe, m'lady!" while proudly pulling an axe off his back.

Maybe it was her outfit? The basic tunic and breeches didn't exactly show off her figure. Maybe she should go freshen up, although she couldn't imagine the right man being put off by a little dirt and sweat.

She looked around for Micah, curious if she would have the suite to herself when she went up. She spied him far across the hall, leaning against the bar and pouring his newly purchased bottle of Evermead into two goblets.

He was deep in conversation with a very pretty dark-haired elven woman. She was laughing as she talked, reaching out to touch his arm much more than necessary in a normal conversation. He smiled one of those big, genuine smiles that made creases form at the corners of his green eyes. They clinked cups before each taking a long sip from their goblets.

Elf-lover, I knew it. She shook her head, trying to return focus to her own task. A shrinking self-confidence was never attractive, she reminded herself as she unlaced the top of her tunic to let the collar fall just over her shoulders. It looked a bit silly, but at least it showed off some cleavage.

The next man that caught Bri's eye turned out to be a paladin of Torm, undergoing his trials of chastity. "Begone, foul temptress! My faith shall not waiver today!" He commanded, nearly shoving her off his lap. Although it was far from the outcome she had hoped for, being called a "foul temptress" at least made her feel a bit better.

Curious, she gazed back over to where Micah and the pretty elf were chatting. They had managed to grab a pair of bar stools and made themselves quite comfortable. Her dress flowed over her long legs; the smooth waves of fabric only interrupted by Micah putting a hand on her knee.

Jealousy flared in Bri's chest. She told herself she did not envy the elven woman personally; but rather her fellow traveler who was likely getting laid tonight, while she struggled to seduce anyone.

She decided to approach a man she had been eying, but hesitant of, since they arrived at the tavern. Bri found him extremely striking, a monolith of muscles and masculinity, but he had spent the entire night by himself at a table in the corner. He was either shy or brooding, neither of which she found appealing.

Fuck it. She walked over to him in the darkened corner. They were at eye level when she stood, and he sat.

"Do you have a room here?" She asked, hand cocked on her hip.

He nodded, narrowing his dark eyes.

"Do you want to fuck?" She sighed, unenthusiastically. He silently leered at her before he grasped her forearm and yanked her up the stairs.

It was a bit more forceful than Bri would have preferred, but his urgency was a bit of a turn on. Until she realized the large man's grip on her was firm enough to leave bruises.

"Hey, maybe not so ha-" her request was cut short as he unlocked the door to his room and shoved her inside.

"What the fuck!?" She turned to leave the room; this was not what she signed up for. He grabbed her before she could dodge him and forced her hands behind her back. His fingers were long enough to easily clasp both her wrists in one hand, leaving his other free to grab a fist full of her hair. He kicked the door closed behind him.

"If you're going to act like a whore, I'm going to fuck you like a whore." He spluttered in her ear as he marched her to the bed and rammed her head into the mattress. He forced her hips up.

Separate body and mind, you can find a way out of this as long as you don't panic. She breathed, giving her body permission to temporarily go into autopilot as she tried to think fast enough to slow down time. Get his guard down, then escape. He wants a whore? Make him think he's got the best.

The brute began to fumble with her breeches, and she heard her sword and scabbard clang on the floor as they fell from her belt. "Mmm, hey handsome," her fake sultry voice was muffled by the mattress, "you know we have all night, right? I could make you feel so go-"

Her false promise was cut off with a dagger to her throat. "Stop talking or I'll gut you like a whore."

Violence it is, then. She thought, realizing her night would now be spent explaining why there's a dead man in room 12.

She whispered an incantation, hoping it would be loud enough. Her sword, laying lifeless between the assaulter's feet, did as it was enchanted to do: get in her hand via the most direct route possible. In this case, her hands were trapped between her back and the belly of the man holding her down, meaning Orphan-Smith needed to clear its own path through the villain's guts.

Sadly, this wasn't the first time she was forced to utilize this technique, but the sound, smell, and feel of such close disembowelment was always jarring.

"Ugh, did you have to go through the colon?" She muttered to her sword, and she forced the half-corpse off her back.

She attempted to clean herself up, a futile act as everything in the room was covered in blood or other fluids. She then carefully opened the door and tried to creep out. She would need to alert the guards soon, but just needed a moment to get her head together.

"Bri?!" She heard Micah call out to her from the stair way, room key in one hand, partially drunk wine bottle in the other.

"It's not mine Micah, I'm fine..." Her voice sounded distant in her own ears as he frantically looked her over for the cause of all the blood.

His eyes darted to the door behind her. "What happened, Bri?" He asked calmly, but firmly, as if preparing to scold a child.

She felt her lip tremble. All the delayed fear, panic, and horror began crashing into her all at once. Words became difficult. "I didn't want to... and he wouldn't let me leave..." She managed to whimper.

Micah said nothing, and just gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders to hold her there for a moment. This in turn caused Bri to completely break down and burst out into ugly tears, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

"I'm ruining your shirt..." She finally said as she pulled away, noticing the wide array of fluids she had left on her friend's expensive tunic.

"Eh, it will wash out." He said with a half-smile. She knew he was just saying that to be nice, she had seen him throw a fit after getting certain clothing even partially dirty. "Look, I need to know what we're dealing with before the guards get involved." He gestured to the door behind her, and Bri nodded. Micah cracked the door, just enough to peer inside, before softly closing it again.

"Orphan-Smith?" Micah asked, referring to her sword by its proper name.

"Orphan-Smith." Bri confirmed with a nod.

"Good. Should be no question of self-defense then." Bri knew that already, but somehow hearing it from Micah made her feel much better. "Well, I'm sure you want to get all that cleaned off you. Let's head up. Oh, and we probably don't want to track this right to our room." He knelt in front of her. She suddenly had a vision of him scooping her up with unseen strength and whisking her away to safety. This fantasy was interrupted by a tugging at her boots. "Hey, I need a little help with this from your end."