The Temptation of Gheeran

"Whadda we gonna do wit him?" another voice, young and harsh, asked. "Eat'im?"

"Nah, we bring his body to the Guard. They say there's this crazy mage what hates them dark elves. Maybe we can nab some coin?" the woman mused. "After I had some fun wit'im." Raucous laughter greeted that announcement.

I slapped at greedy fingers trying to pilfer my pockets. "Hands off," I snapped.

"Just so you know, pointy-ears," the leader hissed, "there's five of us and just lonely, blind you. Whatcha gonna do, eh? Maybe, if yer nice to us, we might let ya leave." His hands grabbed my wrist and he wrenched it. Wincing, I dropped my cane. Someone took it.

"Makes a nice club. I think I'll keep it," the young voice snickered.

Just my luck. I should have taken Trident Road. But no, I had to be a smart ass. Now a band of gutter rats had me.

"And I bet no one misses a blind fucker like you," the female rasped, her hands caressing my butt and crotch.

"How about we settle this like civilized people?" I asked. With a soft rattle, my weapons belt was pulled from my hips. I was so glad that I had the scroll secreted away under my shirt.

"Ye should try to keep us happy, pointy-ears," the leader said. I heard him play with my weapons.

"What? Do you want me to blow you?" I challenged him. The thought alone caused my stomach to heave. As an answer, his fist slammed into my face, sending me sprawling. I felt hot liquid dripping from my lip. All right. This had to end. Spitting blood, I rose and willed my enchanted dagger to return to me. The guy holding my belt yelped in surprise as the weapon vanished. I fell into a fighting stance, waving my blade in front of my torso.

"All right, who has a death-wish?" I hissed through my split lips.

"You, it seems," the young voice from behind me snarled.

I made a small step to the side and yanked my arm up, just in time to block a nasty chop with my own cane. I closed my hand around the oak shaft and pulled. Caught off-guard, he let me close the distance. His last mistake. I pulled him into a one-armed hug, pressing his stinking body close to mine, then I jabbed the dagger into his rib cage several times. Even if I didn't hit the heart outright, he would be suffering several lung punctures and drown in his own blood.

Pushing his spasming body off me, I turned around. I heard shocked murmuring all around, then something hard and sharp hit my shoulder, causing me to take a clumsy sidestep. Damn, that hurt! My arm was already going numb from the impact.

"It's just one damn blind elf, how much of a problem can he be?" the woman screeched. I heard her scraping around on the floor and stepped back just in time as another cobble whizzed past my face. Fighting in close combat was one thing, but avoiding missiles? No way.

"Hey darling, you won't get any dick tonight if you keep this up," I challenged her, grabbing my crotch.

Another wordless screech. I flipped the dagger in my hand, grabbed it by the tip and threw it.

"And there goes yer weapon, idiot," the leader roared as he snared me from behind, pinning my arms to my side. I didn't even know if I had hit her. A moment later, excruciating pain exploded in my stomach. It felt as if an axe had hit me. I felt hot wetness gush down my front..

"How ya like that?" The guy who wanted my boots earlier laughed, an unhealthy, bubbly sound. Another hit, rattling my skull, and I knew what he was using. Some kind of spade, going by the broad blade. He didn't properly angle it, for which I was thankful, or he may have caved my skull in with it. Groaning, I willed the dagger back into my hand. I couldn't stab the guy in front of me, but I could sure as hell give the one behind me a good scare. The guy in front of me dropped the spade and grabbed my chin.

"First, we will knock you out and have a little fun with your elven ass. And when we're through with you, we'll eat ya. And we'll make sure you're awake. Maybe we'll offer you some of your own fingers and toes, because we love ta share."

Stupid humans. Or whatever he was. Instead of threatening, he should have just slit my throat. I didn't intend to make the same mistake. Coughing up blood, I called upon one of my inborn magical talents and dropped a globe of darkness on me. Both men cursed and the leader even relented his murderous bear hug. Turning in his embrace, I felt for his face. His head snapped back, but it was already too late.

He had long, greasy hair and an unkempt beard. I dug my fingers into that and held on for dear life. He kicked and punched, but his panic turned most of the attacks into feeble stings. Then I had his head under control and old reflexes returned. With a quick flick of the wrist, I slit his throat. He gurgled helplessly as hot blood fountained all over me.

"Where is he?" the woman yelled. A pained howl next to me reminded me that she was still alive, and going by the clicking of stones on stone, still chucking rocks into the darkness. I knew I was in no condition for any kind of fight, not while I was leaking blood all over. I needed to get away fast and hope I somehow found help.

"Watch out where you're tossing them rocks," the boots guy yelped.

Whispering the command word for my chameleon cloak, I called onto the other trick I had up my sleeve. The enchanted fabric would make sure I was nearly invisible against my surroundings, and the inborn drow magic I called upon let me drift upwards. A few breathless moments later, my head bumped into something. The Trickster was with my today, for I could feel the frozen edge of a roof, and going by the inclination, it was not that steep. Hissing in pain, I pulled my aching body onto it. Damn, Gheeran, that was much too close for comfort!

Underneath me, I heard the surviving gutter rats argue and moan. Yeah, that was surely not the outcome they had expected. I took out two of them, maybe wounded a third. Not bad for a blind guy with a cane. But compared to my prime, that was a horrible defeat. I shouldn't have that many problems with a few piles of rags! And to add insult to injury, I had lost nearly all of my weapons and my cane. If it hadn't been for Ya'tyrr's enchanted dagger, I might have died then and there. I could kiss my "graduation" good bye, and I had no idea how I would get back to the Toothless Godling. I was hurt, badly. My shirt and pants were already soaked through and I frankly was too afraid to feel for the injury. Maybe I should just keep lying here on this frozen roof until the cold and the blood loss would claim me.

But then, I was drow. And damn, I had survived so much, the casual cruelties my female siblings heaped upon me, jealous classmates out for my heart or rejected lovers trying to soothe their egos by having me assassinated, not to mention the countless adventures Ya'tyrr and I shared on our long trek towards the Surface. Just lying down and dying was not how I was raised.

Cursing softly, I pulled myself hand over hand across the roof. I made it to the gable just fine, but on the way down the other side, I suddenly hit a large patch of ice. I tried scrabbling for purchase, even ramming my dagger into the roof, but to no avail. Suddenly, there was no roof and I fell. Screaming, I tried to activate my levitation magic, but before I knew if it actually worked, I slammed onto something hard and unyielding.

* * * *

It was deathly quiet. Appropriately so, because my mark would soon die. I wouldn't have minded a much more pleasant fate for the curvy dwarven woman below me. She was standing under the waterfall, the moonlight reflecting off her large tits as she writhed, washing herself, humming some ancient battle hymn or whatever. I was a good hundred feet above her, hidden under my camo cloak in the leafy crown of a massive oak overlooking the small pond the waterfall spilled into. The sight of her glistening, naked body was turning me on, even more when she dipped one hand between her thighs and began to pleasure herself. A few hundred feet behind us was the camp site, heavily guarded, but predictable as sunrise, she wanted to have some privacy.

Ya'tyrr's orders had been precise enough.

"Make it look like an accident," he had said.

"In the wilderness?"

"Sure. More than enough dangers out there. I know you will think of something."

The idea was much more convoluted than what I usually preferred. My favoured method of killing was a swift blade to the eye or a slit throat if the client wanted something appropriately dramatic. But if this client demanded finesse, finesse he should get. After scouting the potential route the dwarven convoy would take, I had asked Belard, our resident spellcaster, for a crystal compound which would dissolve in water. Then I had our tinkerer, Kholmer, make blowgun darts from it, which I then coated with extra-strong sleeping poison. I hoped the pond which I chose as her death site would do the rest

Her moans were wafting up to me. By now, she was leaning against a rock in the pond, really into it. Enough dawdling. Fighting my arousal, I slipped off the branch I've been sitting on and activated my levitation magic, silently dropping down behind the dwarven woman. Hovering a good ten feet above and behind her, I lifted the blowpipe to my lips and fired. Three tiny darts hit her gleaming neck, wet from the water. Irritated, she slapped at the spot, but by then it was already too late. The poison overwhelmed her system. For one moment, our eyes met. The dwarven woman opened her mouth. I fumbled for my throwing knives to shut her up for good, appearance be damned, but she didn't scream all hell down on us. No, she yawned, then slid down the rock, only to end up face down in the water. By the time the venom would stop working, she would be long dead and no one would be the wiser. No blood on her neck, no darts to find, only a drowned dwarf woman.

I just needed to make sure that none of her guards would come looking for her and save her at the last instant. My fears were unfounded though. Either the guards were too frightened of their boss or they just didn't care enough to be bothered. Only when the sun came up did they bother to have a look, and by then it was far too late.

"Good job, Gheeran," Ya'tyrr had said when I had returned several days later. The goods the dwarven merchant had carried arrived too late. Our client swooped in and made a killing selling the much-needed medications and foodstuffs at a premium.

Ya'tyrr and I celebrated the occasion with expensive wine out of Valcrest and two days of fucking like rabbits afterwards. We were on top of our game. And then came those ominous words.

"I think I am going to promote you, Gheeran. How about it? Leader of a raiding party?"

"Gheeran?" The gentle, female voice whispering my name sounded so far, far away. Who was she?

We all know how this turned out. Tissana jumped me instead of the other way round. Bye-bye eyes.

"Thissss will hurt, Gheeran," she said, just before the glowing dagger dug into my eye.

The pain tore into my skull like a glowing ram plowing through my brain. I screamed until I was too raw to scream, then there was only a horrid wheezing. And then cool fingers on my cheek.

"Shhh. It's over. No one will hurt you here."

By this point I realized that I was awake. It still was pitch black, which meant that I wasn't in the afterlife. Every faith had its own definition of paradise, but regardless if you ended up at the Soul-Forger's anvil, the eternal shadowy hallways of the Trickster's Hideout or the sun-flooded forests of the elven pantheon, you arrived there whole, without any injuries the mortal body might have sustained. Which in turn meant that I was alive. Once I arrived at this conclusion, I felt numerous throbbing aches, large and small, all over my torso and face.

The gentle caress returned, this time the fingertips moved over the wasteland that was my upper face.

"It seems there's nothing I can do to heal this," the voice whispered with genuine sympathy.

"Where... am I?" I sounded small, weak. And I still wasn't quite sure that the nightmare was over. Maybe this was just another phase? No. Things felt much too real. The cool linen sheets under my naked body, for example, and the comfy duvet too. For some reason, the gentle fingers didn't even cause my dick to stir, a definite first. In my dreams, I was always horny. In the good dreams at least.

"These are the guest rooms of House Dunwall. I took you here when you fell onto my coach."

Dunwall? I knew that name, but the voice... It wasn't Lady Keira's. It couldn't be. The voice was far too soft-spoken, it lacked that imperious edge it had that day in the market square.

"You one of their servants?"

Her response was a tinkling laugh. "No, silly. I am Moira Dunwall, Lady Keira's younger sister. And you are Gheeran, are you not?"

"My reputation seems to precede me."

"Keira recognized you when I brought you here," she said. "There aren't that many blind dark elves in Storm Harbour."

"Must have been my lovely smell."

"Nothing a good bath wouldn't get off you."

"How long have I been knocked out?"

"Just one night. I used my magic to mend the most dire of your injuries and a herbal potion to keep you asleep. Your body still is in a sorry state. Several broken bones from the fall, internal bleeding where bone shards have pierced blood vessels and soft tissue and some nasty slash and stab wounds. You're alive and will stay that way, but it will take a lot more to heal you completely. What happened to you?"

"I won in a street brawl."

"If you're the one who walked away, I don't want to see the losers," she said with a chuckle. Her fingers caressed through my hair, an oddly soothing gesture.

"Hardly a glorious victory, but I made it out alive. No idea how many gutter rats I got, though. And they got most of my gear."

"I'll have some of my servants look for it. But how come you fell onto my coach," Moira asked.

"Dark elven magic. Once I had them confused enough, I levitated upwards and crawled onto a roof. Not my most brilliant idea, true, but the only one I could think of. Slipped on some ice on the way down."

"You were lucky my coach was there or you might have ended up with a broken neck and shattered skull," Moira said, still stroking my head. I fought the impulse to crawl onto her lap. By now I had deduced that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, halfway turned my way.

"I need to go," I said, trying to sit up. At once, the pain flared up. It felt like someone was turning a glowing poker in my innards. Moira tsk'ed and gently pushed me back down.

"You're in no shape to go anywhere. What's the hurry all of a sudden?"

What's the hurry? Well, there was a certain half-orc innkeep who had no idea where I had gone. By now I figured I was three days late. I knew Zejka well enough that she would raise an almighty storm when I'd return. And there was the little matter of Kelonin's gift,

"What happened to my belongings? I feel kinda naked here," I said, turning on my most dazzling smile.

"That's because you are, handsome," Moira murmured. "Fear not. I had my servants replace your ruined garments and had a new coat tailored for you, warm and comfy. The rest of your items, your dagger, bracers and a scroll with something stuck to the outside, they're all here." She moved and I heard her knock on wood, a nightstand perhaps.

"You're too kind, milady. How can I ever repay you?"

"Just Moira is enough. I usually let Keira do all the ladying." Again that carefree laugh. "And there is no need to pay me. I have everything I could ever dream of. Almost, at least."

"Almost?"

"Never mind that," she said. "What's important right now is that you get well."

I did notice the thoughtful pause. She had her secrets, and I was in no position to prod. One interesting lady, this Moira Dunwall. "And you're here to help me?"

"I'm no fully-fledged cleric, but I know my way about the occasional healing spell. Give me a few days and you're as good as new."

"How come?"

"I might even tell you. In return, you'll tell me how you ended up with those scars on your face. Deal?"

I was much too intrigued to say no.

* * * *

Over the next few days, Moira and I got to know each other. It seemed I was her pet project at that moment, much to her older sister's displeasure. I heard them argue several times outside my room and my name came up during these shouting matches.

Moira was about ten years younger than Keira, and the older Dunwall was none too pleased with her sister gallivanting off into the wilds whenever the fancy took her. Moira said she never liked being cooped up in town, preferring the company of druids and wild animals to powdered wigs and stuffy clothing. Like her sister, she was one odd noblewoman, only she didn't care for hollow ceremonies and needless formalities. No, she preferred a direct, hands-on approach to all things around her, including me. She helped me bathe, washing everything, applied herb poultices and changed my bandages herself, all the while chatting as if I were one long-lost friend. In return, I amused and horrified her with my own stories, about my time in the Land Below, the cruelties I suffered at the hands of my siblings, my time with Ya'tyrr and of course my adventures with Shilana and Arach. Moira was gentle and kind, free with touches and laughs. She even kissed my forehead good night before she left me in the evenings. Things didn't progress any further than that, at least not while I was awake.

Her behaviour around me was thrilling and confusing at the same time. How could she be so carefree around a stranger? That was utterly unheard of in drow society, where a slight bow is the biggest courtesy you could afford a stranger. But even humans as a whole tended to be much more reserved. And yet, here I was, being pampered by a real noblewoman. I took an instant liking to her. Time just flew by when she was around.

Three days after I woke up in Dunwall Manor, I felt ready to face the outside world again. Moira agreed for once and even presented me with my cane, along a suite of new clothing.

"Where did you find this?" I asked. It was really my cane, a quick check of the mechanism holding the hidden blade closed confirmed it.

"In an odds and ends shop in the Market, of all places," Moira said. "Seems one of your attackers needed the money more than the weapon."

I felt my cheeks flush. I had told her about my time as an assassin, but being caught with such a tool for murder made me feel awkward.

"Don't worry, handsome, your secret is safe with me. My lips are sealed, promise," Moira said, caressing my cheek.

"Now what? A friendly handshake and good-bye?" I asked, trying to hide my own uneasiness behind a cheap joke. Moira laughed and stepped into me, smoothing her body against mine.

"I fear we're long past handshakes, Gheeran," she whispered into my ear. "After all, your body holds no secrets anymore. At least not for me. How about a kiss?"

"Wouldn't that be a bit inappropriate?" I asked. But I did place my arms around her waist, touching her for the first time. She wore only a thin robe, silk or another very light material, and I could feel the warmth of her skin through it, and the smooth curve of where her lower back curved towards her butt.

"I'm offering, so it can't be," she purred, her breath warm on my cheek. "Come on, I won't bite."

Smiling weakly, I pursed my lips. She kissed me, full on the mouth. Her tongue fluttered against my lips. Before I could properly kiss her back, a stern "ahem" cut in. Moira flinched in my arms.

"He is leaving. Good. It's time you devoted your attention to more pressing matters. Sister." No mistaking Keira Dunwall here. I heard Moira mutter something under her breath, then she pecked my cheek.