Sex and the Spellplague Ch. 07

"Something of which we need to discuss," Celise said, smiling. "The corruption has been rooted out, and cut off at its head."

"So quickly?" Lura asked, whirling to face the younger drow. Mikhail again observed the differences in the two. Gods, Celise must have been barely a teenager, he figured. Sighing, he remembered he'd never be able to discern an elf's true age without being simply told.

"You know how quickly your own kind work," Celise said, smirking. "I may be young and inexperienced in Underdark predilections, but my comrades have taught me well. The drow move like a black tide and consume all they wish to conquer. The villains of Everlund are dead or fleeing, and their master, one Samon Armanov, is dead, along with his priestess of Loviatar. They are scattered, and the drow will fill their void with peace."

"Samon," Varla gasped, and the rest of Lura's friends murmured to themselves. Suddenly, Lura felt a pang of sorrow for Cyra, and it all settled on her that Cyra had been the one to slay the man. It seemed fitting.

*****

Cyra had experienced drow lovemaking before, obviously, by virtue of Lura's promiscuity. She had always assumed the dark fey creatures were naturally skilled in manners of pleasure. Calafein, though, had thoroughly surprised her. Mounting his face, his nose pressing into her cunny as he devoured her impudently steaming clitoris, the weapons master was sending thrills up her spine unlike any she'd ever felt before.

Sure, the draconic awakening and the sudden violence had set her loins aflame, and likely heightened her passions, but that was beside the point. She laid atop him, her mouth firmly wrapped around his impressive cock, one that was nearly as big as Hammer's, she realized. Her throat bulged and struggled with the meat, and her nose tickled against his bare, polished obsidian sack. But Cyra was beyond gagging, beyond the threat of involuntary vomit. She simply opened up and accepted the virile length as it pulsed in her mouth.

She retreated, the veiny length sliding roughly from her throat and lips, trailing mucus from her throat and copious amounts of saliva. Calafein's tongue strummed her clitoris relentlessly and her garbled throat let out a ragged moan of pleasure. The effort caused her to cough another gob of the mixture out of her throat, and she grinned at the mess she'd made on his muscular thighs and shaft. His black hand slapped against her red ass cheek, and the half-dragon slithered forward quickly, dragging her breasts over his moist cock and her cunt over his chest.

Pressing her generous breasts together around the drow's cock, she slid up and down, stroking his slickened cock with her soft orbs. Heat emanated from her breasts, and flames flickered across her areolae. Her entire body sliding forward and back, she could feel Calafein's body twitching and his back arching into her. To her delight, she could feel his orgasm twitching in his cock, and quickly backed off.

Growling in her throat, Cyra crawled up off him and turned around to face him. Calafein moved to sit up and meet her for a kiss, but the red-skinned woman shoved him back down hard enough to slap his head against the floor. Arching her back just right, her hips shifting back and forth while his cock pressed against her vulva, Cyra grinned and bit down on her lip with sharp teeth. The pierced skin, burning blood dripping down her chin and onto Calafein's chest.

Without hesitation, she slammed her hips down on his cock, enveloping him with enough force to conjure a wet smack. Calafein grunted and grinned up at the woman's golden, burning eyes. Fire flickered across her brow and formed a smouldering crown between her horns as her hips moved up and down on his shaft, filling and spreading her tight cunt repeatedly. She paused to plant bare feet on the floor, her thighs and hips flexing as she began to bounce rapidly. She was unabashed as her moans echoed in the basement, flames coursing down her spine and tail, flickering out toward the dragon whelp feeding on the fresh corpses.

Hands planted firmly on his chest, her black nails began to lengthen into claws, pricking his skin and drawing little beads of blood. Her juices splashed against his sack. Thrills ran through her loins, her stomach wavering with distinct pleasure as she continued riding the drow. Glowering down at him, she made her desires well known to the seasoned weapons master, and Calafein nodded. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and his entire body tensed.

"Now," she snarled, her cunt clenching down on him. To her surprise and utter delight, he came instantly, jetting thick spurts of cum up into her cervix, painting her insides creamy white. The burning loins of the daughter of a red dragon steamed as the relatively cool jizz splashed against her molten sex. It was pleasingly cool inside her furnace of passion. The sensation crushed her final bits of resolve, and she shuddered and breathed fire straight up into the basement's ceiling. Timbers burst into flames as the magical vomit ignited them, and her orgasm pushed gouts of creamy nectar out onto Calafein's manhood.

They laid in rapturous bliss for only a moment before Calafein's good sense took hold.

"Cyra," he breathed, chest heaving with exertion.

"What," she said, eyes closed and breathing shallow.

"You just burnt the house down," he breathed.

Cyra began to laugh, and Calafein, less than concerned about the affairs of dead human nobles, politely suggested they clothe themselves and flee before the building came down on them.

*****

Iliara fingered the rose emblem that hung from her neck between her pert, athletic breasts. Naked with Greta beside her atop the Dreaming Dragon, the gold elf watched as the distant house went up in flames. She smirked. "Arrogant bastards, anyway."

"What's that?" the young beauty said to her, rousing from her post-coital nap. The warm night was kind to them, the clouds simply gone this night. Well, save for the column of smoke rising into the air.

"Oh, nothing, pet," Iliara said, patting the girl's plump behind. "Come, let's return inside. I think our friend Cyra will be returning within the hour."

Greta murmured something, wrapping the blanket around her tighter and bundling up the pillow they'd brought with them. It had been the first time Greta had been fucked by an elf, and the way she slid her hand all the way into her sex had been unexpected and delightful.

The former assassin left the girl to drape herself in whatever was left of her dress, having already dressed after their lovemaking. She made quick work of the stairs that led down the common room, and was only mildly surprised to see Celise and Calafein in the tavern, with Cyra seemingly very detached as she detailed the events of the night.

"So it was Samon all along," Iliara said, frowning slightly. "And where the hells did all these damned drow come from?"

"The forest," Celise said. Her youth made her at least a bit naïve about some things, and Iliara's discomfort was one of them. Beaming at her, the drow sauntered forward, bowing. "I am Celise, High Priestess of the Late Eilistraee."

"Well met," Iliara said, ignoring her further. "Cyra, you created that blaze across town?"

"I was getting to that," Cyra said. She detailed her epiphany to her heritage, Lidia chiming in to validate the claim, and the encounter in the Armanov estate. When she was done, Lura, compassionate as ever, moved to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Her face betrayed a hint of surprise, perhaps at how warm she was to the touch, but she offered the dragonspawned woman her consolations. Cyra simply shrugged her off, as if she did not care so much about the man.

And perhaps she didn't, Iliara mused. Her heart was clearly for Lura and her closest friends, such as Hammer and perhaps Mikhail. She fancied herself a close friend as well, but wasn't entirely sure Cyra felt the same way. Perhaps some bed time with her would help, she mused, smirking a little.

The gold elf cleared her throat, touching her holy symbol under her garb, and got Lura's attention. "I hate to bring the mood to a crashing end, but the authorities aren't going to like this. They'll divine the cause of the blaze, and your heritage being what it is, they'll likely want to throw you in the stocks. We had best leave town before dawn."

Lura felt a knot in her throat, but she knew the elf was right. Iliara could tell and read it in her expression. Benefast walked in, apparently having been eavesdropping. "Regrettably, I believe the lady elf is right. I can help you pack if you please," the Halfling said.

"So quick to get rid of us?" Hammer asked, his baritone voice rumbling with an echo of thunder.

The small humanoid smiled and held up his hands. "I'd just rather have a relationship at a distance than one in prison," he admitted. "Besides, I want my tavern back. It was profitable serving as a temple for Sune, but I want to get back to my old ways. Shady deals in the back alley and the like. But I will certainly make good use of all the improvements we've made over the months together!"

"It isn't as if we won't be able to come back at some point," Lura said, smiling a bit sadly.

"Hold it," Cyra said, snarling a little. "I'm the one in trouble, I'll leave. You all stay. Enjoy your lives here. I can always live in the shadows anyway. Perhaps Iliara will accompany me," she said, smirking lustfully at the elf. Iliara grinned back at her, nodding.

"I think a change of scenery is in order," Hammer said. "I will go with you. West."

"West?" Cyra asked.

"Neverwinter. It is near the my tribal homeland. It would be good to visit that area again. Besides, I've heard they're rebuilding after the explosion of Mount Hotenow. They could use adventurers to fight off monsters and the like, without doubt."

He glanced at Lura, and Iliara looked her way too. She looked like she was caught between saying something and gasping. "I am going as well," Lura said. "My work here is done, as long as Miria is ok with taking the reigns of Sune's influence in Everlund."

"As ready as I've ever been," the black-haired elf said, nodding. "With Sune's divinity in my breast, I fear no straying or challenge."

Lura nodded, moving to take Cyra's hand. Hammer stepped over to them as well, leaving Alluva with Lidia. Varla moved next to Greta and Mikhail to Varla.

"I am staying," Mikhail said. Lura stared at him incredulously.

"Why?" she asked.

"It is clear to me that your heart is not for me alone. Perhaps I will be better off here, on my own or with these people we've met. I only ever wanted to be with you, Lura. Hammer can take you now."

The drow looked hurt, and Hammer looked down at Lura expectantly. She only nodded, though, lips curled down in a frown.

"I will go," Iliara said. She moved to Lura, putting a hand on her face and whispering. "Sune calls me. She wishes me to follow you. I have pledged myself to her and fighting the things that go against her teachings, to preserve beauty and love, and to do so with the edge of a blade if need be."

Lura smiled, giving her a friendly kiss. "So be it," she said, her throat clenched as she looked around at these friends she'd made. "The end of a chapter, it seems."

They all nodded, some smiling, some pouting, Mikhail looking very much like he just wanted to escape. Suddenly, Alluva marched forward, a hand reaching out to Hammer's thickly muscled arm. "If you find yourself in the Silver Marches again, call on me. I'd love to see more of the barbarian virility you've told me about. And you," she said, turning to Lura, "I extend the same invitation. I never had the pleasure of tasting drow."

"If you find yourself hunting dragons along the Sword Coast, come find us," Lura said, giving a flirtatious smirk as the sorceress turned away.

People began to disperse, offering their goodbyes and well-wishes. When they'd all left, and Benefast was left with Donova to clean up the mess they'd made, neither felt much like cleaning. So his half-sister leaned into him, kissed him, and pulled him under the table.

*****

Lura went to her room with measured steps. She was cautious about moving yet again, but excited at the same time. She touched her magical gear, and with pops of arcane enchantment, much of her belongings were tucked away in extradimensional spaces, shaped like small, palm-sized chests that she could access whenever she needed. She looked at them, three in all, each holding her travelling gear, casual clothing, dress clothing, sex toys, and other trinkets she'd picked up along the way.

She looked at the massive, four post bed she'd used while living here, at the doors emblazoned with Sune's symbols, and smiled. She moved forward in life always, and didn't dare look back. Though, she was certain this would be a chapter in her long life she would always look back on fondly. Miria knocked on the door as she stepped in.

"The trappings of a high priestess," she said, smiling.

"They will serve you well," Lura responded.

"You know I prefer my wenches submissive and eager to please me," she said, smirking playfully. Lura laughed and nodded. "It was good to see you again, Lura. It's a shame you're leaving so soon after our reunion."

"All in Sune's loving hands," Lura replied, embracing her sister and kissing her cheeks. "We will meet again, Miria. Do not doubt it."

"In this world, how could I? Stranger things happen daily." She pinched the drow's bottom, the patted it. "You and your friends better be quick about leaving. I would hate to hand you over to the authorities. I am a ranking cleric among the city's Temples, now."

*****

Garbed in travelling gear—tough boots, inelegant clothing, functional armor—and armed with their chosen weapons—a spiked maul for Hammer, Cyra with her natural weapons, Iliara with a sleek falchion she'd pinched from an unwary smithy, and Lura with a slightly curved longsword—the four left Everlund, heading for Neverwinter at a casual pace.

Only the gods knew what awaited them there.