tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Apostate Ch. 06

The Apostate Ch. 06


Hammer reclined on a comfortable chair, feeling quite refreshed after many long days in a drow's skin and under miles of rock, in lightless corridors of rough-hewn earth. He wore comfortable, loose pants and a wide-necked tunic. He didn't even bother with his usual boots. Lura's chamber was carpeted with soft material that was pleasing to the touch. He smiled as she did a little twirl for him.

"Beautiful as always," he said. "This interlude was much needed."

"For us both, my love," the drow said to her mate. She sauntered over to him, wearing her red robe in the form of a sparkling gown that clung to her shapely curves before flowing outward just below the knees. It left her shapely onyx collar and shoulders bare, hugging at her breasts to stay up on her body. She lifted one leg, then the other, to straddle him, her hips pressing down on his thighs and the near-constant semi-erection he had been sporting for hours now. Her lips were like moist velvet against his throat, and his stubble tickled and teased her cheeks.

Her hands snaked down between them, reaching for the girth that was so familiar to her. For the last twenty-four hours, they'd done nothing but eat, drink, fuck, and nap with each other. They knew they'd be separated again soon, for there was work on a divine scale to be done.

At least, that's what they had been told.

"One more time?" Lura asked, and Hammer resisted the urge to groan. Despite his barbarian fortitude, his cock was sore from overuse, and it seemed no amount of Sune-gifted healing would coax him back to a state of normality. Lura sensed his hesitation, paused in her efforts as she massaged his member, then let it go and relaxed atop him, her red gown shifting form into a more comfortable blanket of a robe. It covered them both in warmth. Hammer relaxed, holding the drow atop him. She was so much smaller than him that she felt adrift on a sea of firm, muscular flesh.

"I am sorry," he breathed into her pointed ear, his breath stirring the white locks that clung to his stubble.

"No, my love," she purred, kissing his chest and neck. "This is better. Just hold me a while."

Hammer smiled. He lost sense of time, even drifted into sleep a few times, only to be awakened by Lura's shifting, twitching body as she fell into Reverie. The slumber did him well. He awoke with a firmness between his thighs that was aimed just right. Without stirring the drow elf, he subtly shifted himself so that he was at her entrance, and gently pushed himself in. She stirred into wakefulness as he slid in slowly. She smiled at him, gasping softly as he slowly worked himself in and out, stroking her silky center with his hardened length. She didn't bother moving, simply laying atop him and listening to his heart pound in his chest.

They climaxed together, and she felt his seed, what little was left, spattering against her insides. The pulsing was enough to send her over the edge, and she shuddered with what little energy she had left atop him.

After a while of basking in their mutual climactic glow, the human and the drow finally stirred, Hammer's member slowly flagging as it slipped out of Lura's warmth, trailing pearly seed as it did. Her hands planted against his broad chest and she pushed herself up, her beautiful breasts wobbling as she steadied herself. Hammer snuck a grasp at them both, grinning like a juvenile as he did so. She held his hands to her breasts, then let go, dismounting and gathering her wits. Her red robe whirled around her as it magically clung to her form in a functional, slightly revealing form that would give her ease of movement and flexibility. A knock turned her head to the door, and it creaked open. Hammer looked up from his pillow, his cock laying limp across his lap, gleaming with Lura's nectar.

Silver-haired Valshar immediately locked her eyes on Hammer's impressive member, and she stuttered a moment before she finally spoke, her gray skin turning pinkish around the cheeks. "Madam Torviir," she said to Lura, "you have a visitor...please come quickly!"

Hammer was on his feet quickly, pulling on breeches and a loose tunic, not bothering with boots as he followed Lura behind Valshar. Both of them glanced repeatedly at her shapely, athletic bottom as she marched down the hallway. There were no other ministers about, not that they could see anyway, and Valshar was leading them to the exit. They passed through the tunnel that bridged this extradimensional space to the hut on the Material Plane that served as their means of entrance.

And it was there that Lura broke down, tears welling from her eyes, her body trembling against Hammer.

Myrynda was standing there awaiting her, wearing all the regalia of a priestess of Lolth, and wearing a smile so big as to take in her ears. They came together in a crash, kissing and hugging and sobbing against each other.

"Be wary," Valshar said to Hammer in hushed tones. "This could be a trap."

"And you let me leave without my sword," he grumbled, nearly blind in the ultra-low light. Still, he scanned the area, looking for any lurking threats but quite confident that if a drow assassin didn't want to be seen, they simply would not be seen.

They waited for a moment, Valshar and Hammer shifting so that they were back to back, alert, until Myrynda broke the reunion. "At ease, my friends," she said. She waved her hand and the spidersilk gown she wore shifted, the silky, gauzy strands shifting from web-like patterns to straight, gold-glittering strands that condensed around her sensitive bits. A sash grew from the strands around her waist, a stylized mask of white crowned with red silk at the center. "I serve Sune, not Lolth. I have come to be with my sister at long last."

Still, Valshar and Hammer remained skeptical, and more-so when two more drow entered, their intense visages dominating the doorway.

"Mourlefey," Valshar said, alert in her voice, and a sword appeared in her hand as she lunged.


Lirafey and Shandra trailed the young priestess as she pushed open the door of the building, the sorceress none too subtle about how she was eyeing the nubile shape of Myrynda's backside. Lira caught her gawking multiple times, and couldn't blame her. The Torviir girl was gorgeous, just as the rest of her family, but held a youthful innocence that neither drow had seen in a priestess of Lolth in...well, never had they seen such a thing. Innocence was crushed, ruined, raped, and slaughtered at birth, as quickly as possible, in drow society, especially in Menzoberranzan, Lolth's city.

Regardless, they were determined to now help Lura return to the surface, with or without her sister, and Myrynda seemed truly eager to see that end as well. The reunion was sickeningly sweet to Lira, but the way the half-drow iblith lunged at her with a sword of arcane force was a breath of fresh air. She dodged aside, swinging her buckler around to smash the sword out wide and bringing her mace down in an overhead chop, but not for any vital areas. She hit Valshar on the back of the knee, sending the swordswoman sprawling forward.

The human followed after her, and Lira scoffed at him. But the imposing man didn't try to disarm or attack her. Rather, he reached down to Valshar and hoisted her back to her feet. Lira smirked a little, slinging her shield to her back and settling her mace into its belt loop.

"We mean no harm," she said, hands held out innocently, though the smirk on her face was less than assuring. Shandra, the sorceress, didn't make such a placating gesture, but the way she stood behind and to the side of the priestess told them all that she was subservient to Lira.

"And we welcome you back," Lura said, "so long as you are here as friends and allies, and not enemies of the Enclave."

"Enclave?" Shandra asked.

"You need know nothing more," Valshar said, scowling, arms folded. "You will not be allowed beyond this room."

"There is nothing beyond this room," Lirafey said, but Shandra put her hand on the priestess's shoulder.

"Gates," she said, nodding to the back wall. "Many of them."

"And now we can't let you leave," Valshar said sternly. "We must bring you with us, but to the holding realm, so that you can't betray our secret."

"By the Abyss," Lira said, sighing. "We're not betraying anybody. We want to join with you, Lura."

"Why?" the Chosen of Sune asked, arching a fine white brow as her hand went to her hips.

"I have been exiled from my House," she said, shrugging. "I've no interest in being a Houseless rogue—indeed, I'm surprised Lolth even grants me what spells I have. Bregan D'aerth is not my glass of wine. Despite that it galls me to admit this, travelling with you and your...pet male has been one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life."

"And mine," Shandra said, a lewd smile crawling across her face. Her generous curves, so unusual for the drow race, had earned her quite a bit of entertainment in camps with those two. "Surface or not, our lives will be better with you than they ever have been here."

"I...must think on this," Lura said, her face skeptical. Hammer put a hand on her shoulder, sliding it down to her lower back, as a tactile sign of support. "Valshar?"

The servant of Corellon nodded. "Come with me," she said. "Once we pass through the gate, it would be unwise of you to strike against me."

"Is this truly necessary?" Lirafey asked. "You are showing no such hostility toward the Torviir girl. Let us just be out of this cavern and on our way to whatever surface home you'd take."


"Is going with them," Valshar said, interrupting Lura. "It's nothing personal, just a precaution. You two may not yet leave the Enclave. I'm sorry to spring this on you, but your presence is required a while longer."

"How much longer?" Hammer growled, stepping toward Valshar. The elf, despite her much smaller stature, didn't back down.

"Until the First Minister gives the word."

And just like that, the matter was resolved. Lura's demeanor went from friendly to frosty, and Valshar led the three drow to their holding realm while Lura returned to the Order of Apostates' Enclave, Hammer at her side.


"I know how this seems incongruous with our hospitality," minister Alvon said, wearing his robes of Chauntea, "but I trust you will see things clearly soon enough."

The tall man was leading Lura and Hammer down a long hallway, Valshar having joined them shortly after they stormed into the Hall of the Gods. His gait was quick, purpose in his stride, and Hammer and Lura couldn't help but feel as though this was more important than they had originally thought. He shoved open a massive stone door, leading them into a pale-lit room dominated by a silvered bowl of water in the center, ten long strides across.

"Please," he said, "stand here." He circled around to the other side as other ministers walked in. They all had worried looks on their faces, especially Venusta, the Sunite minister. Her red robe was cinched tightly, and her brow was creased tightly. They all stood at equal intervals around the bowl and began chanting as one. Divine magic poured from them, palpable to Lura and, now, to Hammer, the sliver of divinity within him attuned to such emanations.

"Please know," Venusta, who stood next to Lura, said, "that we are performing this at great risk. I have no doubt that our target will detect such a powerful divination."

Lura's eyes went wide, then wider still when she looked back to the water, which had crystallized into a three-dimensional image of very familiar people. Iliara seemed the most comfortable of them all, wearing a black gown that was as decadent in its cut as the drow tailors that had woven it and all manner of resplendent jewelry. Despite all that, she looked absolutely miserable. Cyra and Lidia Lovedrake, on the other hand, were bound in adamantine collars and shackles, stripped naked, and left sitting on the cold stone floor. A fourth that Lura didn't recognize was in similar fashion to her comrades. The half-orc was buxom and powerful-looking, and wore the rags of a slave, likely to be sent to the mines or something of that ilk. Cyra wore the mark of House Torviir, but Lidia and Iliara both were branded in some way with House Mourlefey's symbol. Lura felt rage, but not so much as her warrior lover. He gripped the rim of the bowl so hard that she thought he might bend the silvered metal.

The image disappeared.

"Lady Lura," Valshar Larethian said in an urgent voice. "You must also know that House Torviir plans to sacrifice you upon your capture, sending your soul to Lolth in exchange for power over six other Houses. The rituals have been cast, the only remaining component is your blood."

"They will not have me," Lura said. Valshar nodded, but Venusta put a cautioning hand out toward the center of the bowl.

"You will rescue your friends, but your well-being is not guaranteed."

"Nor has it ever been," Lura snapped. "I will rescue my friends and we will be gone from this place. Forever."

All the ministers nodded. "We figured as much," the First Minister said, his voice hollow, clearly exhausted. "Fetch the priestess and the sorceress," he said over his shoulder.

In short order, Myrynda, Lirafey, and Shandra entered the silvery light of the chamber, armed and armored and veritably glowing with mystical enchantments. Hammer watched as the ministers of Moradin and Tempus marched over to him with a light suit of mail, perfectly suited to his body, and a gleaming greatsword that matched his own in nearly every way, save for that it was lighter, and stronger.

"Blessed by Moradin and Tempus," the dwarf said, nodding. "Me finest creation."

Hammer bowed to the dwarf, offering his most sincere thanks. He suited up, strapped his sword to his back, and felt the glow of the Red Knight within his breast as a crimson stallion appeared on the mail hauberk. He smiled softly, remembering the long-ago coupling with the goddess's avatar. He flexed his arms, felt divine strength flowing into his muscles. His bones popped, settling into their proper place, and he felt faster, more flexible.

Moreover, his rage was more focused, eager to strike out at specific targets: drow.

Lura watched him with glowing red eyes, her robe coiling around her like a sinuous lover, hardening into tough leather that hugged her every curve, flexed with her every movement. Most surprisingly, though, was when her red sash straightened and stiffened into a red-steel sword. She hadn't handled a blade in what felt like a lifetime, but when she drew it from her hip, it felt an extension of her own arm. The hilt of the blade became an ivory face, with red steel forming the guard around her hand like stylized hair. Venusta gasped when she realized what was happening, and found herself kneeling before Lura.

"The Goddess blesses you," she said in hushed tones, but Lura would have none of that. She sheathed her sword and lifted Venusta up into an embrace, crushing her against her bosoms, then kissing her passionately.

"We will open a portal," the first minister said. "The gate will drop you right into the cell holding your friends. But that is the end of our magic. We must pour every bit of divine power our respective gods have given us into this pool, and likely a bit of this planar magic as well. Go, friends, and see them rescued. Know that the Order of Apostasy will thrive when your work is done."

Lura nodded, wrapped her hand around Hammer's, and felt the other drow march up behind her. She looked over her head and nodded her thanks. Lirafey and Shandra nodded back, the sorceress smiling eagerly as her eyes settled on Hammer's posterior. Then Myrynda and Valshar joined them, her glowing arcane sword in hand.

"You?" Lura asked, and the half-drow nodded, grinning widely.

"It is House Mourlefey's work that brought me here," she said. "I will see my vengeance fulfilled at long last."

Lura nodded, taking the half-drow's hand in one hand, and her sister's in the other.

The portal swirled before them.

The six jumped in, leaving the pocket plane behind them.

The scent of stale sweat, piss, and unwashed womanhood assaulted them as they appeared in the cell of their four friends.


Iliara was by far more calm and collected than her three cohorts. The former assassin had been in worse pinches than this, but never imprisoned by the drow. Regardless, she was in a position where she was confident she could work an escape out for her friends. But Vath, Cyra, and Lidia were rattling their chains, growling and snarling in frustration. She'd long since given up on trying to placate her enraged companions.

For good reason, too. She had garnered her fair share of enmity, being constantly dressed in fine silks, freshly bathed, and her hair and body groomed neatly. After all, a Matron Mother's plaything must be well-kept in all regards, so as to be pleasing to her eye! Iliara was as much a prisoner as them, though, and though the sex was glorious, in ways she would never have confessed to her friends, she was eagerly seeking an escape.

Vath was pacing like a caged beast, growling in her throat, snarling at invisible enemies, her naked, muscular body twitching like an agitated lioness. Iliara would normally find such a sight worth her every lust, but at this moment she couldn't bring her swollen, aching pussy to attention if she wanted to. There were a series of thuds outside of the cell that broke her concentration and interrupted the half-orc's pacing. All four tensed, watching the door, each of them possessed of keen low-light vision, except for Vath.

The door opened and a drow stood there, mace and shield in hand, fully armored. This was unusual, for usually it was a burly male warrior who took Iliara away. This was a beautiful female, though she didn't seem to be wearing a holy symbol of Lolth, as they had come to expect.

But then a large, strong hand pushed her out of the way. Iliara and Cyra nearly cried out in relief, tears threatening the confines of their eyes, when they saw Hammer's massive frame filling the doorway. Cyra threw herself at the big man, Vath watching with wide eyes as she kissed him fiercely, her tongue thrusting deep into his mouth and her hand groping at his crotch.

Even Lidia seemed eager to reach forward and throw the man down in celebratory lust.

But then Lura Darklust—or rather, Luriia Torviir—pushed the big man out of the way, her red leathers gleaming with latent divine power. Indeed, both she and Hammer seemed to emanate a supernatural power from their persons, something all four seemed to notice shortly.

"Come," Lura said. "This is Lirafey Mourlefey and her companion Shandra, as well as my little sister, Myrynda," she said, introducing the two drow quickly. "And Valshar Larethian, a bladesinger. Let's get out of here."

But alarms started ringing, a magical tinkling sound that rang throughout the prison as the four stepped out of their cells. Shandra stepped forward. "Arcane shackles," she said, pointing at the seemingly mundane bindings on the four.

"Can you dispel?" Lura asked the sorceress as she drew her sword. Shandra shrugged, but nodded, clearly unsure if she had enough magical energy within her to do it in short order.

"Protect me," she said as doors started swinging open and drow gaolers poured into the hallways. Males, mostly, and Lura and Lirafey did their best to command a halt. It worked, to their credit, but only for a short while before the males sorted everything out. The presence of the human male and filthy elf belied Lura and Lira's authority. They came on hard, and their quick, light weapons met a wall of fury as Hammer threw himself at them, swiping his massive sword powerfully across, halting their charge. Lura darted in behind him, sword thrusting for openings, but she was no weaponmaster, and had not trained in the martial arts as these drow warriors had. Her thrusts were little more than a nuisance to them.

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