A Mutual Understanding

[Annisthyrienne]

Posted by Skyguy

Mir pulled on his clothes, savoring the fresh feeling of clean clothes on a clean body. Weeks at a time in the country with only the occasional dip in a river or brook taught you to appreciate the feeling of being truly clean and he did. He started to collect up his armor, fetching the pieces he would wear. He wouldn’t wear it all around town, that was excessive and foolish, but it was equally foolish to leave his most valuable possessions just sitting in the room. He donned his mail shirt and leggings, breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces, faulds, and greaves, leaving the remainder behind except his gauntlets that he stuffed in a pouch at his side. He was obviously armored but not as heavily as he otherwise would be, and they were the pieces most closely fitted and therefore hardest to replace. He took his sword and a few knives along with his bow.

In retrospect being obvious about what they’d done with Myra, and implying more probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d done. If the innkeeper had been on his side or at least not thinking Mir’d fucked his daughter all morning long he could probably be counted on to keep a good eye on the room. But Mir doubted he could so he was stuck carrying his most valuable possessions with him. Grabbing up the pouch of gold he stuffed it up under his cuirass where it would be impossible to pickpocket without some magical assistance.

As he was finishing up his preparations Spiriel was making her own. He made no attempt to hide his lecherous gaze as she looked for something to wear. She eventually settled on his tabard and when he looked at her for an explanation she gave him one about being his helper, not a slave, and wearing his sign because of it. That sign was a rampant red serpent on the tabard, admittedly something he’d picked out when he first went looking for justice for his slain betrothed. The downside to her not wearing the slavegirl shift was that the sides of the tabard were completely open. Even with the belt tying it together you could see up her legs, to her lack of undergarments and higher. To fast a turn and her cute little bottom would be on display. Lean to far to one side and she’d be exposed. The same for her top as well. It came together at the top but the sides were still open. On any other woman he might have just enjoyed the show, but Spiriel wasn’t just any woman. She was his woman.

Her bright smile, shining even in the darkness of the hood reassured him, at the very least she wasn’t nervous, but he was. A drow slave would be worth a small fortune, maybe even a moderate sized one. One as beautiful as Spiriel... well, that was one more reason to bring the sword and armor. He smiled back at her, to reassure her in a way he didn’t entirely feel. “We’ll go to the seamstress first,” he told her as he walked towards the door she’d opened. “Because this,” he reached out and trailed his fingers over her hip, letting his hand slip under the hem of the tabard to stroke across her mound, “won’t do.” With a wicked grin at her went through then motioned for her to come out. He turned back towards the door and before closing it he took a small scrap of paper and wedged it between the door and the frame on the inside. If anyone opened the door the scrap would fall out. He locked it and headed for the stairs with Spiriel behind him.

The first floor was much quieter than it had been the night before, only half full and mostly with bleary eyed travelers eating a late breakfast before getting on their way. A few eyed him warily, but most were looking behind him, at Spiriel. He paused for a moment at the bar where the bright red stain remained on the counter where he’d smashed the mans face into it last night. He drummed his fingers over it in a not terribly subtle warning as he got the attention of one of the barmaids. A pretty girl with red curly hair like Myra’s he figured she was likely an older sister. She wasn’t as pretty as Myra but she was a few years older and fully developed.

“So you two made my sister late for her chores?” she taunted them.

Mir smirked and just nodded. “Which way to the seamstress your father fetched for us yesterday?”

“Just down the main a few blocks, nice place, you can’t miss it. Finest looking clothier on the street.”

“Thanks,” was all Mir replied. A week before he’d have likely flirted with the girl but at the moment he was well drained and more concerned with Spiriel than adding another of the innkeeper’s daughters to his tally.

Before he could turn away though she added, “You know, the walls aren’t that thick, and Myra spoke highly of the both of you.” She looked over him and Spiriel. “If you two want some more company tonight...”

She let her offer trail off and Mir nodded. “We’ll remember,” he said before leading Spiriel out into the street.

Where as things had been winding down the night before, in the late morning light the town was in full swing now with people bustling up and down the street with their loads or goods. Farmers coming in from the surrounding countryside with their crops, others leaving with the goods they’d bought. Craftsmen and shops lined the main street and Mir stayed to the wooden boardwalk along one side rather than tromp through the mud the animals and carts had churned up.

All around he could see and feel the eyes that Spiriel was attracting. Even in the tabard there was really no hiding her coal black limbs. The looks were equal parts avaricious, fearful, and hateful and none of them bode well for Spiriel. He motioned her up beside him and wrapped one arm around her shoulder protectively. Soon he spotted the clothier’s shop but it was across a particularly muddy portion of the road. He said nothing but scooped Spiriel up in his right arm like he might a small child and carried her across the road, dodging between horse drawn carts before depositing her on the boardwalk outside the shop. He thumped the door loudly and walked in.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Spiriel was aware of the looks turned her way almost as soon as they entered the common room of the inn. She tried to ignore them. After all, her Mir wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. She followed him to the bar, where he spoke with the woman who looked a lot like Myra. Spiriel lifted the cowl of the tabard just enough to let her peek out and admire the woman's red hair. It made her remember how fun it was to play with Myra's and she couldn't help smiling.

Mir was about to turn away, having finished his conversation with the pretty older Myra-girl when she turned to look at Spiriel and then back at Mir in turn. She returned a smile of her own to the drow girl, whose shy smile just peeked out from under the hood she wore. Spiriel only knew that the human woman said something about Myra before Mir nodded and led the way out to the street, guiding her with a hand on her shoulder.

Out on the boardwalk it was very crowded. There were many more people now than before, and the sounds and sights threatened to overwhelm her. But she was curious and wanted to see what she could of these people. She lifted her slender fingers up to draw the hooded cowl open just a little, allowing her to see more of the world. This had the effect of allowing the world to see a little more of her as well, although with her arms bent and raised at her sides, they helped conceal her breasts from view through the side openings of the oversized garment she wore.

The sun beat down upon her black skin on her exposed arms and legs, oppressively hot. And from everywhere the smells, sounds, and impressions of the city assailed her senses.

Here the shrill sound of a barking dog whipped her head around to see the mongrel snapping and barking at her from the mouth of an alleyway. The creature was shut up with a yipe when someone emptied a chamberpot from the second story window above. Spiriel nimbly dodged the splatter, though the action exposed her dark thighs to the grizzled looking man leaning against a wagon wheel at the edge of the street.

And just there, another man with an eye-patch leered at her with his one good eye.
He mumbled something incomprehensible, and reached out towards her legs as she trod by, following Mir's lead obediently. She veered away from him, just out of his reach as he growled something inarticulate at her.

Mir turned back and she hurried to catch up with him. He put his arm around her possessively, protective of her. From the corner of her eyes she gawked at the craft items on display in the windows of the shops they passed. So many interesting things to see! And she found that she could also see the reflection of the sights in the street in some of the window glass.

It was in one such window that she saw a mean looking man staring at her. His hand strayed to the grip of the heavy sword he wore at his hip, but then his eyes darted to Mir's imposing figure as she shrank against him, glad of his arm around her. The man's hand rather quickly moved away from his weapon.

Suddenly Mir stopped, looking out into the street. Spiriel looked too, although she wasn't sure what they were looking for. It seemed as though Mir was looking for a way to cross the bog that someone had put right in the middle of the street here. What strange people these you-mans were, Spiriel thought. How did they get along in such messy places to live?

Just then Mir scooped her up bodily, one strong arm settling around her waist and sort of lifting her under her butt. She gave a startled squeal and let go of the hood to slip her arms tightly around his neck, holding on and clinging to his hip with her legs. The position made her clothing ride up nearly to her hips, exposing almost her entire legs up to her thighs. And if her exclamatory shriek drew the attention of passers-by, it was the view they were treated to that held their gaze upon her.

At last he put her down on the boardwalk on the farther side of the muddy street, and rapped upon the door to a shop there before opening it and leading her inside. She looked at the stares on the faces that were turned their way. Most were curious or startled, looking up from where they worked at sewing various garments arranged on stuffed dummies. Spiriel saw that most of the women were older human women, but one face caught her attention. It was the face of an elven woman, a light-side elf!

Spiriel had never seen one before, but she had been told that the light-side elves hated her kind and would kill her on sight. Indeed, that face registered an unfriendly glare at her, and in the instant it took before Spiriel turned away, those delicate lips curled into a snarl of disdain. The little drow wondered what she might have done to make this woman hate her so much. Was it only because of what she was? She shrunk back, moving around to Mir's other side, putting her warrior and protector between her and that baleful glare.

Just then the woman from the night before, who had come to take her measurements for clothes came out from a back room. She walked towards Mir, smiling and looking over at Spiriel too. "Well, it seems we have visitors. You weren't jesting when you said you were in a hurry then." she said to Mir. Making a pointed glance at Spiriel, she smiled again, but this time it seemed to Spiriel that the smile was less friendly and more predatory, as if she had something the woman wanted to get from her. Or maybe she was something the woman wanted. "And now I can see the emergency." the woman quipped.

To Spiriel she said, "No need to hide your face in here, Little One. Take off that cowl." She gestured with her own hands in a motion mimicking taking off the hood so Spiriel knew what she meant. The little drow glanced nervously over at the elven woman, then up at Mir. At his reassuring nod, she slipped off the hood, revealing her ebony features and ivory hair. She was very aware of the disgusted huff of breath that came from the elf at the other side of the room.

The seamstress caught the tell-tale glance just before Spiriel removed the hood, and heard the exclamation from her hireling. She smiled at Mir and Spiriel in turn to cover the incident. "Well, there she is, so very striking....and well trained too, I see. She certainly knows who her master is. Too bad that a seamstress, even one of my skill, does not make enough to afford one such as her. But if you'd ever tire of her....."

Seeing the expression on Mir's face, she turned and gestured for them to follow as she headed for a curtain in the back of the shop, talking over her shoulder as she walked. "Well of course your entire order is not ready; that would be impossible, even with my staff. But we worked through the night and the morning, and I have a couple items for you that I think you will be pleased with." She turned back as she held open the curtain for the two to enter. "At least it will be an improvement on what she has now, as I'm sure you'll agree."

As the two passed through the curtain into the back room, the seamstress gestured to an older matronly woman in the back room, who turned away to fetch a paper wrapped package. The seamstress held out her hand to Spiriel, and led her to a raised platform in the center of the room. As she began to loosen the belt that held the tabard closed, Spiriel shot a glance over at Mir. Her eyes showed the anxiety she felt that this woman was removing her clothes again.

But she did not protest or struggle as the seamstress opened the tabard, her eyes glittering as she took in the vision of the drow's nudity, handing the tabard over to Mir. "You must understand, I had to keep the designs simple in order to get them done quickly. The styles I've finished are minimal in their use of seams and meant to wrap and enfold her body. As such, there are not many fastenings for her to figure out, which is a feature I think you will appreciate. It makes it much easier to remove the garments.....for when you are in a hurry." She looked meaningfully at Mir, letting the pause speak more than the words.

Spiriel stood on the dais, crossing her arm over her breasts, and cupping one dark hand over her mound below. She shivered, though it was not drafty in the room. It was just another indication of her nervousness at being naked in the presence of this woman.
The matronly woman held out the package to the seamstress, who unwrapped it and removed a white shimmering garment. Despite her trepidation, Spiriel's interest was peaked, and she craned her neck catch a glimpse of the outfit. She didn't have to wait long, as the seamstress turned back to her and began to dress her in the new clothing.

Her back to Mir helped to conceal what she was doing as her hands moved over the dark skin of the little drow woman. Fingers that seemed to adjust the way the fabric lay over the dark breasts lingered along the curves just a little longer than necessary. And when the woman knelt before the platform to slip the skirt-like bottom piece over the hips of the ebony woman under her care, her breath caught in a little bit of a gasp as her hands trailed up the insides of those jet black thighs, brushing the intimate place between. Her eyes drifted up to meet the gaze of the drow's silvery orbs as the girl flushed with embarrassment. The seamstress loved the way those delicate features turned so quickly away in heated shame.

When at last she stood and moved aside so that Mir could see, the outfit was revealed. The fabric was a brushed soft cotton, snow white against Spiriel's coal black skin. Through it all was embroidered a spiraling meandering vine motif in some kind of satiny thread that caught the light and shone in contrast to the softer texture of the cotton. The top was made like a Grecian style tunic dress, one shoulder bare and sleeveless, but the other side wrapped around her torso and crossed over between her breasts. It fastened at the waist around on the opposite side. The tunic dress was long enough to cover her hips and buttocks, and just reached the tops of her thighs.

But underneath the tunic-dress top was a skirt which employed a similar wrap design. This one, however, left the front of her thighs bare. The cloth wrapped around her hips and draped down behind to just above the backs of her knees. It was left open in front, except for a belt-like span that crossed just below Spiriel's belly. From behind, under the main skirt part, a longer loin-cloth wrap passed between her legs and up under the belt, then draped over to conceal and provide a sort of undergarment all in one. The drape hung down to about mid thigh, so the garment was shorter in front than in back, but it could be spread out almost fully across the front to the point that it would look like a modest dress when worn in combination with the top, but as she would walk, her bare thighs would be sure to peak out with each step, and her dark skin would contrast starkly with the soft white clothing.

A pair of lace-up sleeves made of the same soft brushed cotton were included, and could be worn separately to enhance the outfit, as well as a pair of leggings that fit over the cuffs of some simple Roman style cloth sandal/slippers. The leggings went from her ankles up to just below her knees, and the sleeves covered her arms from wrist to bicep, leaving her shoulders bare.

The seamstress stood back, presenting her creation to her client with pride. Her lips curled up in a half smile as she turned to him and asked, "Well, what do you think?" She gasped and added, "Oh, wait! I almost forgot. There is one thing more, but I think you may want to put this accessory on her yourself." She turned back to the matronly woman, who handed her a wooden box covered in decorative designs. The seamstress held the box out to Mir as she explained. "I had to call in a favor from a friend of mine who works in silver to add the embellishments for this last item. It will cost more than we discussed, but I think you will agree it is worth it."

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Posted by Skyguy

Mir noticed the way that Spiriel shied away from the other elf, hiding behind him. He didn’t understand what the issue was that light side elves had with drow. No one really trusted the drow, and they were generally assumed to be evil and to be eliminated as soon as the chance arose, yet for most surface dwellers it was a general caution, not unlike you’d have with an orc or the like. Elves though, elves hated drow. Someone like him might just kill a drow like Spiriel just to be on the safe side. Elves would take their time. He supposed it must have something to do with the past but he didn’t know what. A mercenary’s life isn’t exactly full of time for book learning. He knew his own people’s history but not much else. Certainly not elvish history.

That look the light sider gave Spiriel though, it irked him. She’d done nothing to merit that kind of malice. Spiriel was as meek as could be. Deep down he knew that she might be playing him, that it could be an act, but if it was it was a damned good act. Still, who was she to this elf? No one. For a moment his subconscious supplied him with the enjoyable idea of finding out how much gold it would take to get the stuck up bitch on her knees and have Spiriel ride her face. He snorted. That would be suitable retribution, and if his experience with her was any indication Spiriel was fantastic at making friends once she was naked.

Thoughts of putting the stuck up elf in her place were pushed away by reality when the seamstress emerged from the back and greeted them. “I can see the emergency,” the finished with looking pointedly at Spiriel.

Mir shrugged, “What can I say, I bought her, not clothes. I can’t have her running around like this though, it draws too much attention, and I paid for the right to see her naked. Can’t have her giving a free show to everyone on the street.”

The seamstress motioned for Spiriel to take off her hood and behind them he heard the elf huff. The seamstress tried to keep talking to distract from it but Mir glanced back and returned her venomous glare. “She’s remarkably well mannered,” Mir commented as he looked back at her. “It took no effort at all to tame her.” He had no idea how much of the conversation Spiriel was picking up on or even how she felt about it. He knew how he felt about it though, and it was both sickening and exciting at the same time. In his head he concocted the scenario of a slave market, of Spiriel being sold and him paying someone for her. Of taking her off to do with what he would with her. Those thoughts taunted him and he’d been to an actual slave auction before. He’d loathed it. If there was a place that more typified suffering he didn’t know what it was and he had no desire to ever go there. Killing the slaver he’d tracked there hadn’t been a job, it had been a service to the world and he’d refused to take pay for it, one of the only times he’d ever done that. Yet part of it still excited him, maybe the concept more than the execution. How Spiriel would react to the implication though, he didn’t know. “She cost me almost everything I had, but she’s worth it. I don’t think I’ll be parting with her ever.”

The seamstress seemed to take this in stride as she explained that she didn’t have their entire order, obviously, but she had some. She led him and Spiriel into a changing room where and older woman assisted her. When she led Spiriel to a small dais in the center Spiriel hesitated, unsure of what was going on. Mir smiled and nodded at her though, not really comprehending her concerns. In his mindset men could be threatening, sexually, to a woman, but another woman? In spite of everything he’d been through in his mind women were still not sexual aggressors and Spiriel’s real concerns didn’t register, just assuming she was nervous about getting naked without his permission or something.

The seamstress helped her get dressed, seeming to take a long time but he just assumed she wanted it to look perfect to present to him.

She was successful. The dress she put on Spiriel looked amazing to him. The white color was radiant on her, starkly contrasting with her ebony skin. The way the vines interwove with the fabric was amazing, the same color yet clearly standing out. It draped over his little companion perfectly, accentuating her charms while deftly concealing them from everyone but those she wanted to let see her. Even the loincloth undergarment was well done, protecting her modesty while leaving her free to move. He wasn’t a student of fashion, and his usual interest in women’s clothing was how quickly he could get it on the floor but even he knew when he was seeing something amazing. She looked, “Amazing,” Mir said breathlessly, letting his usual cool demeanor crack. The leggings and sleeves completed the outfit, lending an air of practicality to it while still leaving parts of her perfect, dark skin to show through. His eyes caught Spiriel’s and he said, “Spiriel is beautiful, beautiful drow.” He couldn’t wait till that elf saw her in this.

When she held the box out to him he was on autopilot, then he opened the lid and saw what laid inside. It was a collar, two inches wide, made from a rich dark brown leather. The top and bottom were rolled for reinforcement and covered in the same soft black cloth the inside of it was. A similar vine pattern to the dress had been inlaid into the leather, curling outwards from an embossed loop in the front of it for a leash and drifting around the outside to a heavy metal buckle in back that had a loop for a lock. The workmanship was amazing, and it was beautiful, and the thought of it encircling Spiriel’s delicate throat, cinched down firmly made his mouth water.

“It will cost more than we discussed, but I think you will agree it is worth it." Mir knew he was being manipulated. The seamstress had chosen this dress and this setting to spring the cost of the collar on him. Of course it cost more, and she knew he’d pay for it after seeing Spiriel dressed like this, with his collar around her throat. Then again, for the quality of the outfit she’d created he knew she wasn’t being paid enough so the manipulation wasn’t that bothersome. So long as she kept making Spiriel look like this he’d pay what she asked.

He took the collar from the box and walked towards Spiriel, keeping up the pretense of keeping up the pretense of doing this just too look like he was actually her owner but for just a moment he let the fantasy of being her actual owner take over. He tried to give her a reassuring look as he got close. The dais raised her up to the point she could actually look him in the eye and he could see the emotions rolling in them as he brought the collar up and wrapped it around her throat. He cinched it down and hooked the latch in back,securing it. As he did this he leaned in close to her and whispered. “You’re beautiful, and you’re free.The collar will keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe.” Behind her neck the latch clicked shut. “Spiriel is Mir’s drow.”

He stepped back and looked at her. In that dress, in that collar... she was exquisite. “I’ll pay the difference,” he told the seamstress, “But next time ask first or you get paid what I promised and deal with the difference yourself.”

 

[Annisthyrienne]

“Spiriel is a beautiful, beautiful drow.”

There were many things these you-mans said that escaped her, not always because the words were unfamiliar, but mostly because they were said in the rapidity of speech used by those accustomed to the language, and in their unique local accents and dialects. Mir tended to speak a little slower, his laconic drawl and pacing easier for her to pick up on. Plus she was getting used to his way of speaking now. So she understood his words to her, and they made her positively beam when they brought the smile to her face.

Her bright smile seemed all the brighter with her pearly teeth contrasted against her dark lips and cheeks. But her eyes shone too, lit with happiness and pride that her warrior thought she was beautiful. It was a rare treat for her to be offered any chance at self-esteem. Her life before this had been demeaning, and she’d been little more than a plaything, of use only for satisfying the needs of those who cared little for how she felt.

And technically, Mir’s use for her had been mostly of the same sort, but he at least showed her how much he appreciated it, and her. He treated her like a real person, not just an object for use and then to be disposed of. It was such a change for her that she loved him for it, and for all the little kindnesses he had shown her. This outfit of clothing was very special to her. It was the first time anyone had given her anything of beauty that was just meant for her. It made her feel as wonderful as she looked. And now that she knew Mir liked it too, she allowed herself to visibly relax and look down at herself to admire the beautiful clothes.

So it was that she did not actually notice when the seamstress gave Mir the box with the collar, nor did she look up again until he approached her. Her eyes searched his, and sensed the importance of his approach from the look on his face. She glanced down at what he held in his hands, and saw the collar. The smile faded from her lips, replaced by a slightly puzzled expression as she looked back up at him.

In the temple, they had not used a collar to mark her as their property. Her tunic signified her station. It bore the markings of the temple, and that was all that needed to be shown. That she had nothing else to wear signified that she was only clothed at their whim, and little more than an animal, in their eyes.

But pets wore collars. Animals, albeit cherished ones who were often treated better than she was as a slave, wore their master's signs around their neck to show who they belonged to.

Mir stepped closer, reaching to place the collar around her neck. She noticed the design of the entwining vine motif, and realized that it was similar to the twisting coils of the serpent design on the tabard she had been wearing. This was it then. This was his sign, and this was how he would show the world that she was his. All the things that he had done for her, all the things that he had given her, these new clothes, and all the kind treatment....she had at first thought that there would come a time when she would have to repay the cost for all of it. And overnight, she had begun to imagine that perhaps she would not have to pay, at least with no more than what she had already surrendered freely. But now she understood.

As he placed the collar around her neck, cinching it snugly, but not tight enough to discomfort her, his words echoed her thoughts just as the buckle latched into place securely. 'Spiriel is Mir's drow.' She was to be his pet.

There was no other way. If not his, she would be someone else's sooner or later, and most likely not someone she'd prefer, she thought, as she looked over his shoulder at the seamstress, who was watching the scene with open envy and a knowing smile. Mir was vowing to protect her, to keep her safe by wearing his sign, making sure everyone knew she belonged to him. It was the way it had to be. She could not live in this upper world on her own, unclaimed; she knew that now.

Her silver eyes went misty as she looked into his, just before she lowered her gaze submissively. One dark hand lifted towards him tentatively, reaching out as if to touch him, but then changed course to lightly touch the collar at her throat. "M-Mir's sign? Spiriel wears Mir's sign. Belong to Mir. Mir's Kit-ten, yes?" She didn't need confirmation, she already knew it. "Yes, Mir." she whispered obediently.

The seamstress could not contain herself a moment longer. Watching this scene unfold in front of her was irresistible. She had to say something. Her breathy voice sounded in the room, thick with her excitement. "She looks ravishing, if I may say so. I understand about the extra cost, but I knew when I saw it that you'd love it. And it appears she does too."

She stepped closer, standing next to Mir as she looked the little drow woman up and down. "I should offer an apology for Althea's behavior out front. You see, she is the closest of my hired workers to your girl's size and build, so I had her model the outfit for me to make sure the fit was right. She is probably incensed to think that all along the clothes were meant for......someone of her kind." she said, gesturing to Spiriel. "I had to tell her it was for a much younger human girl, merely an adolescent. If she'd known the truth, she would have never helped create this outfit, and she is one of my best workers."

Spiriel stepped down off the dais, standing close to Mir, ready to follow where he led. She didn't care for the way the seamstress was still looking at her. Didn't the woman know what Mir's sign meant? She was taken! The look she gave the human woman out of the corner of her eyes showed a pride and defiance that made the seamstress' breath quicken just a bit. She was all the more convinced that this warrior had stumbled upon a true prize, and obviously didn't realize what he had. Oh the fun she would've had in breaking that proud spirit if she could! And she was sure that the special anatomy of the slender dark beauty would figure prominently in her training.

When she realized that an embarrassingly awkward moment had stretched by while Mir stood there, she flushed and quickly added, "Well, I should have the remainder of your order ready by tomorrow night, as we agreed upon. I'll try to avoid any other surprises. "Uhm, there is no hood on that outfit. Would you like to have her put this back on?" she asked, gesturing to Mir's tabard. "Or if not, I have some hooded cloaks that are made to accommodate many sizes. They do not have to be fitted so closely, you see. Perhaps you would like to browse through the selection. If you find something you like, you could substitute it for the ones you ordered."

She led the way to a showroom of pre-made items, and to one side were several cloaks and capes, and even some monk style robes with deep cowls as well. They were made of varying materials, from a light fashionable cotton material to a heavy woolen cloak with a fleecy lining. Various colors were represented, though mostly in earth tones. "Feel free to try them on if you'd like to see what fits." With one last look at Spiriel, she turned to oversee the progress on the clothing order.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Posted by Skyguy

Something had transpired when he’d put the collar around Spiriel’s neck. Something important that he didn’t fully understand. He tried to brush it off, hoping she understood and that it was an act. The collar looked incredible around her neck, and yet he felt like an ass.

"M-Mir's sign? Spiriel wears Mir's sign? Belong to Mir? Mir's Kit-ten?" He started to nod, "My Kitten," he said as she answered her own question, "Yes Mir." Something about her attitude made him hold back from having her call him master. The illusion wouldn't be perfect but the quiet resigned way she'd answered herself we chewing away at his insides. The reality of the situation was far different from how he'd seen it in his mind.

The seamstress thankfully distracted him, chattering about how Spiriel looked in it and the price. She wanted Spiriel, that much he was certain of, but in an avaricious way that unsettled him. Myra and her sister were intrigued, and wanted her, but they just wanted to experience her for an evening. This woman, this woman wanted Spiriel to be calling her Mistress. She was the kind of person who would enjoy collaring Spiriel and it wouldn't be a ruse. "She does look amazing in the dress and collar. I'm going to expect the rest of her things to be as beautiful as this is, but watch the price. If I come back and find the price is doubled you're not getting another coin out of me, understood?" In truth the best he could figure the collar was going to take them down to the bleeding edge on their finances. He couldn't afford to pay more than was already agreed now.

"I must apologize for Althea," she explained, detailing the creation of the dress and how she'd had to have tricked the elf to get her to model the clothes for her. In the midst of his disquiet over Spiriel's attitude, and the seamstress' increasingly naked lust for the little drow a stuck up elf's disgust was something he could handle.

"Well she did fine work," he complimented as they walked past the sewing area where the elf was still sitting. Truth be told she was an enticing little thing, but somehow since meeting Spiriel he was finding his tastes running to the... darker. "Though on the rest of the dresses you might want to give Spiriel a little more room in the bust," he said as he ran his fingers along the top hem of the dress. "This is a bit tight on her. Still the rest fits magnificently so have Althea model them when you fit them." It was a cheap shot, incredibly cheap, but incensing the elf would be worth it. Spiriel had done nothing to deserve the woman's contempt.

"There is no hood on that outfit, would you like to have her put this back on?" the seamstress asked as she offered him his tabard. Old, worn, and far too large for Spiriel, she had looked good wearing just it but that was half an hour ago, after seeing her in this dress... she deserved better. Much better.

"No, he said taking the tabard back. He dropped his pack to the floor and put the tabard on before picking up his pack. "She looks too fine to be covered up by this old thing." He followed the seamstress into the cloak room, noting her offer and weighing it in his mind as he started to look around the room. The cloaks were all darkly colored and came in almost every style. He considered taking one, covering Spiriel up would be prudent and yet, after the previous night in the bar, being out on the street, and all the seamstresses seeing her he doubted her presence was much of a secret anymore. Besides, covering her up after seeing her in that dress? Mir wasn't one for fashion that wasn't based off steel plate and rings but even he knew it would be a crime to hide her. He made his decision quickly and turned to spy Spiriel, eyes downcast, waiting patiently for him. The seamstress had left them so he took Spiriel in his arms and hugged her to his chest. "You're safe," he rumbled. "Safe. I'll take care of you," he tried to assure her. He held her at arms length and looked into her eyes. "Safe," he repeated. It was the most he dared say in a shop full of busy bodies.

He left the cloak room with Spiriel in tow and found the seamstress in the sewing room flitting from worker to worker. "I'll wait for the full order tomorrow. Make sure her cloak matches her dress, but have the inside something darker, green, and give it a fur lining we can remove if need be. And a hood." He was being picky but a good cloak was a valuable piece of gear and he wanted it done right. "When the order's finished bring it to my room at the inn. Oh, and make sure the cloak is fitted to the elf, and have her help deliver it.”

He left without waiting for a confirmation, leading Spiriel back out onto the boardwalk. He started walking, making sure she kept pace beside him where he could watch over. He was looking for a general store, they were going to need provisions for the trip north and a weaponsmith as he needed to replenish his stock of arrows. Tomorrow they'd worry about a horse. They were already gathering gazes though, or rather Spiriel was. The combination of being a drow, the dress she now wore, and her collar were no doubt getting a lot of attention.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Spiriel followed her new master obediently as the seamstress led them both to the cloaks. She wondered if Mir was going to get more clothes from the woman, but although he looked at the cloaks, he didn't choose one. The woman left them alone for a moment, and Spiriel watched as Mir looked through the cloaks, but he didn't seem to find any he liked.

She was waiting patiently, when suddenly he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her protectively. His gentle tone in that deep rumble as he assured her of her safety made her smile as her small form was enveloped in his arms. She had been reserved since her realization of her place in Mir's life, but feeling his arms protective and gentle around her reassured her that it was the right choice. And the way he looked into her eyes when he held her at arm's length said more than his words could say. Mir would be a good master to her, and she resolved right then to be a good pet...helper...whatever, to him.

He had held her in his arms before, but this time seemed different. It was not just for pleasure or sex, it felt.....caring, affectionate. It was something she'd not felt before. If this is what belonging to Mir felt like, she wouldn't mind. It could be worse, she thought as they found the seamstress again in the front of the shop.

+++++++++++++++++++++

As the warrior stated the details of what he expected of her, the seamstress just looked at him in exasperation. The order was already a lot to do in the time she had, even with her entire team working on it. But there seemed to be no pleasing the man! And now he wanted her to have Althea deliver the order to his room? She'd seen the looks he'd given the elf; no doubt he had some designs on her. It was more than she could rightfully ask of the girl, but then again.... The seamstress' eyes fell upon the little drow again, exquisite in her contrasting outfit. Perhaps there would be the possibility of a trade. She swallowed her protest and merely nodded with a hint of a smile as the warrior and his slave left her shop.

+++++++++++++++++++

They were on the boardwalk again, walking down the crowded street. Spiriel hurried to keep up with Mir, sensing the many stares turning her way. As much as she loved her new clothes, they were drawing a lot of attention to her. But as they moved down the street, no one offered to bother her. Spiriel's eyes darted from right to left, seeing the looks on the faces of the people who stared at her, but gave the warrior a wide berth. And that is when she realized they weren't just looking at her or her clothes; they were looking at her collar. Suddenly Mir's words made sense. The collar was keeping her safe.

Spiriel took advantage of the chance to freely take in the sights of the city, unobstructed by any concealing hood. There were large animals in the streets, harnessed up to large wagons and carts. One such pair of beasts had huge horns extending to either side. Spiriel had heard stories of how humans and other light-side races used the animals for work and transportation, but there was not much call for such creatures in the Underdark, and so she'd not seen any until she came to the city with Mir. She wondered if one of the large animals was the one called 'stallion', although she couldn't imagine why Myra would have said that Mir was like them.

A little further, they passed by a building with a large window that looked out onto the boardwalk. Out of curiosity, Spiriel peered into the window, only to see many curious faces peering back at her. The people were all dining on various types of food. One old human woman looked shocked to see her...or at least she looked old to Spiriel. But as the drow woman looked closer, her eyes shaded to see into the glass, she realized that the woman had hair the same color as hers, but there were no wrinkles of age on her face. The woman made a face at her, and Spiriel stepped back with a start. She hurried after Mir, eager to get away from the strange 'old' woman.

They came to a building with a wooden sign hanging from a post that showed a picture of an arrow crossed with a sword. Mir opened the door and gestured for her to go inside, then followed her. Inside were many racks of weapons: spears, halberds, various pole-arms, and many swords of all shapes and sizes. Along one wall were bows and crossbows, and under them were barrels full of arrow shafts. Along the back wall was a long work bench that also served as a counter, and behind that was a door leading to the back.

From out of the doorway came a grey haired man, only this one had the wrinkles that were appropriate for his age, Spiriel noticed. Those same wrinkles deepened as he scowled at the unusual visitor. He blinked a couple times, then turned his attention to Mir. His voice was a surly growl, the sort that belonged to a cantankerous old fellow who had grown tired of pretending to be nice when he didn't feel that way. "She belong to you, mister?" At Mir's nod, he continued, "Is she a tame one then? We had some trouble back a year or two ago when a bunch of her kind came down outta them hills. 'Twas a shame what they did to some of those outlying farm folk. I don't care for the idea of having one in my store, getting those black hands on a weapon. You'll need to keep her under control or make her wait outside."

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Posted by Skyguy

Mir glared at the old man. “She’ll be staying with me or so will my gold.” He turned his back on the shop keeper without another word. The old man was welcome to try and force him out. At least his distrust of drow was justified, or was it. As Mir wandered the racks looking at all the weapons present he reflected on things. Some drow were evil, no doubt about it. However he was standing next to one that was decidedly not. So you couldn’t really say all drow were evil could you? After all he’d been hired to kill far more humans than just about any other race, but no one was hanging “No Humans,” signs on their shops. Some humans were good, some were evil, most were somewhere in the middle. Maybe it held true for drow too.

If that was the case, was it fair for everyone to be glaring at Spiriel the way they did? Probably not. He wasn’t ready to crusade for equal rights for drow, but if she was here, walking around with only a collar on and not even a leash, how much of a threat was she? Did she look like she was about to pull out an axe and start killing people?

Truth be told his judgement was clouded and he knew it. He’d spent the night before, and this morning, fucking the little drow repeatedly. He was certainly not impartial, and he wasn’t about to encourage Spiriel to build mutual understanding in that manner with everyone she came across. It still irked him. She was different, he knew she was, yet she was still being prejudged.

He was passing by a rack of shortswords when he stopped. He might not always be around to protect her. She needed to be able to protect herself with more than just a little ceremonial dagger. Mir’s eyes lit up and he dropped his pack to the floor and bent down. He rummaged around for a bit until he found it near the bottom, the tiny dagger wrapped up in a bit of leather. He pulled it out and stalked back to the counter, stabbing the dagger down in it so it would stand upright. “What’ll you give me for this?”

The old man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at it, then went wide as he followed the details. “What is it?”

“Drow ceremonial dagger,” Mir answered. He didn’t know for sure but it sounded better than calling it a fancy letter opener it felt like in his hands.

The man’s face screwed up in disgust. “Why would I want something they made? It’ll call a curse down on my shop.”

“Because you have some fine blades here, far finer than a town like this has need for. That means you appreciate the finer things and have connections with someone who can supply them and THOSE people will be very interested in this. I doubt you’ll have this in here for more than a day or two.”

“That’s all it’ll take,” the man grumbled as he plucked the dagger from the table and started to examine it in his hands. “Looks useless.”

“It’s not meant for fighting.”

“No one here could afford it.”

“No one here will want it,” Mir countered. “But you’re not planning on keeping it here anyways.”

“I don’t want something here those black hands created. Your slave is causing enough of a ruckus as is.”

“I don’t really care, we’re gone tomorrow. Now what will you give me for it?”

“Gold or trade?”

“A little of both.”

“Then tell me what you want, and hurry up about it. The sooner you and her are out of here the better.”

“A shortsword, a bow, a dagger, and threescore arrows.”

The old man grumbled. “You don’t ask for much.”

“I know what you’re going to sell that dagger for.”

“Fine, the weapons and ten gold.”

It was Mir’s turn to grimace. “I said I know what you’re going to sell that for, the weapons and forty.”

“It’s drow and probably cursed or at least bad luck. The weapons and twenty.”

“Thirty.”

The old man looked at the dagger then back and Mir and Spiriel, “The weapons and twenty five, if you’re quick about it and get out.”

“Deal,” Mir replied. He plucked the dagger from the shopkeepers hand and stabbed it into the counter. He took Spiriel’s hand and led her back towards the shortswords. He quickly looked through them, ignoring the obviously low quality ones. The nicer ones were overall well formed blades but nothing that was standing out until he found it, near the end of the rack. The sword was a xiphos style blade about seventy centimeters from tip to pommel. The blade was leaf shaped with a swollen center section. A faint vine pattern was inlaid in the blade from crossguard to tip and the grip was wrapped in silver lined black leather. He picked it up and tested it himself finding it was well balanced and very light with the intricate waved pattern in the steel of the blade indicating high quality folded steel. Behind the sword was a very simple but functional scabbard on a belt and he returned the blade to it and took them both.

He glanced over the racks and saw the shop keeper examining the blade closer so he ducked his head towards Spiriel and showed her the sword. “It’s for you,” he said. “Spiriel’s sword.” He didn’t hand it to her lest the old man make a scene. He led her along to the knives, finding a serviceable one for working, cleaning fish, cutting up meat, trimming wood, and finer one for fighting with a long straight blade and a very sharp tip. Taking both and their scabbards he went to the racks of bows and looked for a small one, finding a recurved ash shortbow. Sturdy and small with a good draw it looked like a toy in his hands but he judged it the right size for Spiriel. He handed it to her while he started to pluck arrows from the barrels, examining each one to ensure it was straight and true before claiming it. Sixty arrows turned out to be a bundle but in his experience most arrows only lasted two, maybe three firings before they were ruined and he needed some to replace his own depleted supply, and to give to Spiriel.

When they returned to the counter the old man started to sputter when he saw the sword Mir had picked out. “You can’t take that one! It’s worth more than the gold!”

“I said a shortsword, never which one,” Mir countered. The shopkeeper wasn’t over estimating the worth of the sword.

“You can’t just take the most expensive one in my shop!”

“You’re going to sell that dagger for at least a hundred gold, more like a hundred and fifty so even if I take this sword you’re still coming out ahead. So shut up and honor our bargain or I take the knife and leave.”

The old man’s eyes danced between the fancy little dagger and the shortsword before his shoulders sagged. “Fine! But you only bargained for one knife.”

“Then give me twenty three gold and we’ll be out of your hair.”

The wrinkled man dropped two stacks of coins on the counter and snatched back the top coins from both. “Figures someone like her would be owned by someone like you.”

Mir just snorted as he pocketed the gold and stashed the weapons in his pack, except for the fighting dagger. That he took the leather thong that was attached to the scabbard and tied at around Spiriel’s waist so the dagger would hang by her side. Not the best but it would work for now.

“You can’t give her that!” the man yelled when he realized what Mir was doing.

Mir just ignored him, guiding Spiriel out of the store and onto the boardwalk. The shopkeeper wasn’t wrong. Giving a slave a weapon was something almost never done, but he wasn’t going to leave her defenseless and he trusted her. On the boardwalk he adjusted her dress so that it mostly covered the scabbard of her dagger but the hilt still stuck out for a watchful eye.

“We need to get you a proper belt,” Mir said, plucking the little leather strap holding her dagger on then thumping the one around his waist. “And a quiver.” He huffed and looked up and down the street. “We also need food and drink, and a bedroll for you.” He thought he spied a few promising shops down the way and he took off, keeping Spiriel close but right along their path was a stable. They’d need horses, and they had the whole day so Mir reckoned it wouldn’t hurt to have a peek and see if he couldn’t find a decent horse now, maybe even go ahead and pay for them to offload some of his new found wealth.

The stable was open to the street at the moment, it’s big rolling door pushed aside since they were open for business. The owner was chatting with another customer letting them look about undisturbed. There were plenty of draft horses and quarter horses. Good animals for pulling a wagon or riding to town but not what Mir was looking for, besides, most of them pulled away from Spiriel as she walked by. When they got to the back of the stable that all changed. He heard a whinny coming from one of the stalls followed by the stamping of hooves and the deep breathing and grunting of an excited horse. Peeking around the end wall of the stall Mir saw a comely chesnut mare being mounted by a great grey percheron destrier, all muscle and pride the large horse positively loomed over the mare who wasn’t a tiny animal herself. The stallion was in the process of breeding the mare quite vigorously giving him and Spiriel a show. He finished with her in short order and dropped back to the floor with a bounce in his gate, tossing his mane from side to side, obviously proud of the job he’d just done. He spotted Mir and Spiriel and instead of backing off like most horses had done, including the mare he’d just bred, the huge grey horse sauntered to the front of the stall, inquisitively looking at the two of him.

“Magnificent isn’t he? You don’t see a stallion like him very often,” the stable owner said as he came up behind them. A middle aged fellow with a bit of a belly and a jolly demeanor, he reminded Mir of the innkeeper with a better disposition and a little less love of food.

“How in the name of the gods did you wind up with such an animal?”

“A passing knight, poor sod was down on his luck. It was the horse or his sword and he sold the horse. Must have been... six months ago.”

“Six months?” Mir asked inquisitively.

The owner frowned. “Aye, that mare right there is the last one in the stable he hasn’t gotten his haunches on. Then she went in heat and it was either let him have her or he’d break the barn down.”

“Good for you to have that breed.”

“Good? Hardly. He’s too rambunctious and no one around here is willing to pay what he’s worth or his foals are worth. He’s bucked the few who were interested in him.”

Mir watched the horse leaning in close to Spiriel, sniffing her. “How much for him?”

“Eighty gold, at least.”

“For a horse you just admitted you can’t sell?” Mir scoffed. “Twenty.”

“For this horse? Are you mad? Fifty.”

“Yes, for this horse you can’t sell and no one here can afford. Twenty five.”

“Thirty five, to be rid of him.”

“Thirty to be rid of him, and the saddle the knight had.”

The owner stared at him fish mouthed. “Ugh, fine. Get the damn thing out of my stable.”

“I’ll be back for him in the morning.”

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Here was another You-man who seemed angry with her, and she didn’t think she’d done anything wrong yet. But this man at least did not look at her the same way the fat innkeeper did, with that undercurrent of lust. Even with her nice new clothes, she was just a drow to him, and he didn’t want her around.

Mir traded a few angry words with the man, and Spiriel wondered if he would smash the man’s head into the counter he leaned across, like he did with the man in the inn. A secret part of her felt a little thrill at the idea that her Mir might just do that for her. But he did not, at least not this time. Still, since the man was so angry, she made sure to follow Mir closely when he began to browse the racks of weapons.

Suddenly Mir seemed to get excited about something, and she watched as he retrieved the little sacrificial dagger he had taken from her when they first met. She didn’t protest when he offered it to the angry man, though she did stay close and slightly behind Mir. The truth was she never had considered the dagger to be hers. She had taken it from the temple, and it had served its purpose for her, as far as she was concerned. It had seen her safely to the surface, long enough until some other arrangement had been made.

She had not exactly planned to meet someone like Mir, but it seemed that things were working out as well as she could have hoped. Mir would be her blade now, or smash people’s faces into counters for her. Either way, he’d protect her better than she could use the little blade to protect herself. She’d tried that once already, and look how well it had worked. Now she felt no particular attachment to the little dagger and didn’t care what happened to it. It was the last vestige of a life she wanted to leave behind and forget.

But what did concern her was when Mir leaned in close and told her the sword he had chosen was for her. She didn’t believe he was choosing weapons for her at first, and the look of confusion or disbelief on her face was the only hint. Mir had already turned back to his browsing when she finally registered what he had said and what it might mean. The small shake of her head was too late to be seen. As Mir handed her the weapons he picked out, she held them for him, and carried them as he went about the store. She was his helper, after all. But each time he handed her another weapon, she glanced over at the angry man behind the counter, wondering if he would object.

He was too busy with looking at the little dagger though, and left Mir to choose what he wanted without objection. That is, until they took the items up to the counter to show the man. Then he spoke some more angry words, or so it seemed to her. She understood a little; essentially that the man didn’t want to trade all of the things Mir had chosen for the little dagger, but in the end, Mir convinced him that he should. Spiriel was listening, but she didn’t think she heard anything about faces getting smashed into counters, though in truth, she didn’t know the you-man words for that.

It wasn’t until Mir tied the new dagger around her waist, and the angry man shouted at them that she became scared. Her arms were full of the arrows she was carrying for Mir, so she could not try to stop him even if she would dare to disobey him. But she shook her head urgently, her eyes pleading in between fearful glances back at the angry man. “No, Mir! Spiriel no kill you-man! Not warrior; helper…good drow. Not fight. Good touch, good kees only for Mir.”

But Mir said nothing, and simply led her out of the shop, away from the angry man. She felt better about that, but was keenly aware of all the stares turned her way as they walked on down the street. Mir had partially concealed the dagger in the folds of her skirt, but Spiriel was keenly aware of its presence. She tried to make herself as non-threatening as possible, smiling nicely at everyone who looked her way. To her surprise, a few people actually smiled back.

They came upon what she could only imagine was a home, or maybe an inn, for the large animals she had been seeing along the street. The door was open, so she followed Mir right on inside. No one stopped them, although every animal that Mir got close to stepped away from them. Spiriel began to think they must not like Mir, or maybe was afraid of him with all his weapons. But at last they turned a corner at the end of the building, and witnessed a spectacular (to her) sight.

Spiriel stopped in her tracks, amazed to see one huge animal covering another. At first she thought it was trying to climb onto the back of the smaller one, though she couldn’t imagine why it would need to. It was already so tall that she wouldn’t be able to reach as high as his head if she stretched to her fullest height. But after a moment of watching the beast, it became clear to her what he was really doing to the other one, and a heated flush rose within her. If her cheeks were not already as dark as night, they would have shown the deep red of a blush that would have colored her to the tips of her pointed ears.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp of astonishment as she watched the large animal back off slightly before shoving forward again. In the slight gap, she saw the black and pink shaft of flesh that drove into the smaller of the two animals, and she noted the powerful bunching of those muscles in the rump of the larger one that forcefully impaled the other. The little Drow woman watched the scene, caught up in the carnal grunting and wheezing of the animals. She noted how the bigger one curled his lips back, exposing his teeth, and rolled his eyes back showing the whites in his excitement. She couldn’t help the quickening of her own breathing and heartbeat as she watched the primal act.

As the large animal finished up and dismounted, a veritable flood of his seed splattered out onto the stable floor. Spiriel gasped and stepped back nervously as the huge beast came over towards them. She bumped into Mir, turning quickly, embarrassed as she looked up at him, then back at the horse. So enrapt was she at the scene that she didn’t notice the man who had come up behind them. “Magnificent isn’t he? You don’t see a stallion like him very often,” the stable owner said.

Spiriel recognized that word, and made a small choked squeaking sound as she looked back up at Mir, then at the horse, and back to her warrior. Just the hint of a knowing grin began to turn up the corners of her lips and she stepped closer to Mir, her hand moving out of sight of the stable master to slip up the back of Mir’s thigh and over his buttocks. Her face was kept very carefully neutral as Mir negotiated with the man, but her hand gave a squeeze behind his back as one word echoed in her mind over and over in time to the remembered vision of the stallion’s thrusting: ‘Stowl-yun!’

Now she understood what Myra had meant, and now she knew that if she was Mir’s ‘Kit-ten’, he was her ‘Stowl-yun’ in return. She almost dropped the armload of arrows before she brought her hand back to where it belonged, holding her Master’s goods like a good helper should. But the smile in her silver eyes could not be hidden from the stable master, even if he didn’t know what caused it.

As the two of them left the stables and continued down the street, Spiriel walked in silence by Mir’s side. But when he turned to give her that look, she only smiled knowingly up at him, and walked a little closer, brushing her body against his as they made their way down the boardwalk.

She didn't notice the dark looks of the two city guardsmen as her and Mir passed them, nor the way the two fell in a short distance behind them.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Posted by Skyguy

Mir ignored Spiriel’s protests when he gave her the dagger. He doubted he was really communicating how things were going to work properly. They had established some basic words and communication but trying to explain his world view? Not something he could really manage. Even if she was his slave he’d have still given her a blade. The world was too nasty a place in his experience to ever truly feel comfortable without a weapon on his hip and he wouldn’t like her going around without something to defend herself. He didn’t care a whit about his own safety around her. They’d shared a bed, if she’d meant to do him harm she’d had all night to fetch a dagger or his sword and kill him. When they were awake, well he’d manhandled her the last time she’d come at him with a knife. He could trust her and if anyone else didn’t like it, well he’d made a career out of being unliked.

At the stables it was all he could do not to jump when her tiny hand had found his rump and squeezed. Once he’d negotiated for the stallion and left he’d given her a knowing look. He was pleasantly surprised at that little outburst from her after how timid she’d been all morning. He still hadn’t quite put together why she’d gotten frisky but he wasn’t complaining. After all they had another night to kill in this city and he knew how he intended to spend it.

He was distracted enough to not notice the guards when they first passed them by. His thoughts were on his little drow and hurrying up to find a general good store to replenish what he needed. After that some lunch and then, then they had a lot of free time to spend.

It was only after taking another pair of turns that he noticed they were being followed. A general store he’d spotted earlier was just across the street and several carts full of grain were trundling down the road. Without a word he scooped up Spiriel into his arms and jogged across the road in front of the carts before setting his elf down on the boardwalk on the other side. He didn’t see the guards trying to follow, instead they were both still on the other side of the street, still walking along. He was getting paranoid.

The general store itself was surprisingly well kept, with windows and skylights letting in plenty of light, the floor was swept and every surface had been dusted. One side was dominated by a long low counter with stacks of goods in front of it and shelves of them behind it. The rest of the store had rows and rows of various items in barrels, buckets, and on shelves. The shop was so well kept he almost felt bad tromping into it in his muddy boots. At least Spiriel’s dainty feet had been kept out of the mud.

Behind the corner was a small, middle aged man but unlike the owner of the weapon shop he didn’t recoil at the sight of Spiriel rather giving them both a wide if tired smile. “Welcome!” he barked. “What can I help you with.”

“I need some supplies,” Mir explained. “Flint, tender, bedroll,” that sort of thing.

“Then you’ve come to the right place! You’ll find no finer shop in town than mine.”

“Honey? Who’s there?” A round middle aged woman came out of the back. Her simple gray woolen dress was not flattering but it was functional with several pockets and probably easy to make and work in. “Oh! Hello,” she said when she saw Mir. Her eyes widening momentarily as she took him in with just the barest hint of a lustful smirk gracing her lips. That ended when she came around the side of the counter and saw Spiriel beside him in her collar. “Oh, and hello to you as... well?” she finished looking up as Mir inquisitively. Some owners preferred their slaves ignored. Mir just shrugged.

“Momma momma momma!” a squeaky little voice shrieked as little feet stampeded out of the back of the shop.

The woman spun and shushed as two boys and a girl all came running out. The children were young with the boys looking about twelve and nine with a little younger looking sister rounded them out.

The older boy stared slack jawed at Spiriel while the younger one had the same expression at Mir. The girl though only had eyes for Spiriel.

“What do you three want now?” the woman complained. When she saw the looks they were giving Mir and Spiriel she popped the oldest boy on the back of the head. “Go unload the apples farmer Snorjd sold us,” she pushed the younger boy after his brother. “And you go help.”

“Are you a knight?” the boy asked in a high pitched voice before his mother shushed him and shoved him towards the back.

“Anna Grace, make yourself useful. Get a broom and sweep up.”

“Yes’em” the girl replied and she scurried off.

The shopkeeper chuckled. “Children, you know how they can be.”

Mir replied with a snort and a nod. Truth was he didn’t. The people he worked for rarely had children, or if they did didn’t consort with him. They were amusing though.

“The man needs a bedroll,” the shopkeeper told his wife.

“For him or the girl?” the wife replied.

The shopkeeper gave her a look.

“Well it matters!” she shot back. “He’s,” she waved her hand high up in the air while standing on the balls of her feet, “and she’s.... not.”

“For her,” Mir replied. “A good one, soft, with blankets. And a tent for two.”

“Protecting your investment huh?” the shopkeeper teased. His wife rolled her eyes and left for the back.

“We’ll find the rest ourselves,” Mir said.

“Of course, of course, just let me know if you need help.”

Mir led Spiriel through the aisles, plucking necessities off the shelves. A new flint, coils of rope, a new blanket, tender, a canteen, bandages, and a few other things that he deposited on the counter. The returned and Mir found a rope made from silk, he jokingly caught up Spiriel’s hands and quickly bound her wrists with it while grinning before letting it fall away but he didn’t put it back.

“You’re really pretty,” the small girl said from behind them. She was edging out from behind the end of the aisle with her broom. “How did you get so black? Were you burned up?”

“Anna Grace!” her father snapped and the little girl disappeared behind the end of the aisle.

Mir collected a few vials of medicines and dropped them besides the things they’d already found on the counter, including the silk rope.

“Anything else?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Hard tack, jerky, dried fruit, and some willow bark powder.”

“How much?”

“A few pounds each, enough to last the two of us ten days at least.”

The shopkeeper nodded, jotting it down. “Do you want to take it with you now?”

“No, deliver it to the inn near the gate, the one with the dancing fool. Second floor, third room on the left.”

The shopkeeper nodded. “I know the one. It’ll be a bit extra for the delivery.”

Mir sighed. “Of course it is.” He fished out some of the last coins they had and laid them out on the counter.

“That’ll cover it.”

“Got it,” his wife announced as she came back. On her shoulder was a new bed roll, a bit bigger then Mir was expecting but when she unrolled it he could see why. It was thick and soft, good for cold nights and good rests.

“That’ll do,” Mir told her as he motioned Spiriel forward to feel it.

“Babying her huh?” the woman inquired as Spiriel felt the roll. She quickly rolled it back and tied it shut.

Mir nodded. “Something like that.”

“Can’t say I blame you, given what she must have cost you.”

“We’ll deliver all this to your room quick as we can,” the man said.

“Thank you,” Mir replied, very conscious of how few coins were left rattling around in his pocket. He motioned for Spiriel to follow him as he led them back out onto the boardwalk. It was getting on towards lunch and the smells of cooking pots and fire pits were starting to fill the air.

“Let’s get this stuff back to our room,” Mir said. “Then we’ll get something to eat.”

A few doors down the boardwalk he spotted both city guards again. They were looking his way intently. Maybe he wasn’t as paranoid as he thought.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Although she walked close to Mir, Spiriel was not paying as close attention to where they were going as she should have been. She had to take two steps for every one of his strides, but she managed to keep pace in a dream-like state just slightly behind Mir. Her imagination was filled with images of the impressive sight she’d just witnessed. In her mind's eye was a vision of the powerful haunches of the large horse pumping it's massive shaft into the wet, tight orifice of the mare, and alternating with that was the vision of her imagining of how it must have looked when Mir was pumping his large member into her tight little opening. The words Myra had said came back to her memory, clear and now meaningful: "Like a stallion breeding her!" And the man at the stables had called the large animal a 'stallion'. All the tumblers were slipping into place, and Spiriel now understood.

Her breath was coming faster, and her nipples were hard as pebbles under her soft white clothes displaying the visible evidence of her arousal. As if her striking contrasting appearance were not enough to draw the stares of those she passed, and the dagger at her hip reason enough for a passerby to wonder about the presence of a Drow in their city, her obvious arousal would have piqued the interest of just about any male of any race. But Spiriel wasn't paying attention to any of that. She was lost in her fantasy of her 'stallion' breeding her so vigorously.

So it was that when Mir spotted the store he was looking for across the street and turned to cross, she missed his cue and took a step or two further on before he grabbed her and hoisted her to carry on his hips like a small child. She almost dropped some of the arrows she had her hands full with, and gave out a little squeak of surprise, just managing to snatch the loose arrow at the last moment and return it to her bundle.

This time she simply wrapped her legs around Mir as best she could to held on until he set her down again. She returned the little half smile he gave her as he set her on her feet on the opposite boardwalk, and then followed him into another human place.

Spiriel found the little shop to be a pleasant place. She was relieved to find a place where the humans didn't yell at her, or stare at her with lecherous eyes.....Well, except for the male youngling. He stared at her in a way that the innkeeper had, but without the underlying menace or duplicity, both things she was well familiar with from her life among the Drow.

Then she noticed the little female staring her with open mouthed awe. Spiriel smiled warmly at her, delighted to see a little you-man girl. Not all of these people were so big and scary, she thought. The children’s mother reprimanded them and sent them out of the room, but Spiriel’s eyes followed the little girl as she left, remembering when she was a little one like that, before the people from the Temple came for her. The sound of the girl’s name pleased her ears, and she repeated it softly under her breath, testing it out. Only Mir and perhaps the shopkeeper could hear her murmur, “Annahgrace..Ahhhnaahh Graaace….good you-man girl.”

She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation until Mir turned and led her back among the shelves and stacks of goods. Spiriel followed obediently, shifting the armload of arrows and the sword and knives she carried as they browsed. When Mir caught up her hands and wrapped the soft rope around them, she looked at him questioningly, but couldn’t help returning his grin. She wasn’t sure of his meaning, but when he smiled at her it made her want to smile back.

The little girl’s voice behind her caused her to turn, the smile still on her face, but she wasn’t sure what the girl asked, and looked to Mir for clarification, quirking a delicate silver brow. But before he could respond, the shopkeeper called the girl away. Spiriel shrugged and followed Mir back to the counter when he’d found all he needed.

Soon enough they were on their way again, dodging the passers-by on the boardwalk. Spiriel was very glad to hear Mir mention food, and it gave her something to think about besides the stares she was attracting. The sun was out now, and the street was very bright. It made the contrast of her snow white clothing against her coal black skin even starker compared to the mostly drab clothing worn by the town's occupants. And the sun's rays were not kind to her, heating up her black skin mercilessly. A fine sheen of perspiration made her look glossy by the time they reached the inn again.

Stepping into the inn was a relief for her. The shade of the interior immediately felt better then the sun's harsh rays. She knew that she'd have to get used to it though, if she was going to stay with Mir. His kind lived in the light of the sun, and was active mostly during the days.

Following along behind him as he approached the bar, she tried not to return the stares of the few patrons that whiled away their afternoons in the common room. Instead she looked at the open mouthed expression of the girl behind the bar, the one who looked like Myra, but older. She was staring at Spiriel, and at first didn't hear Mir's quiet rumble as he ordered some food to be brought to their room. When he noticed her stare, he glanced back at the little drow as if seeing her for the first time, and then back to the barmaid. He waved his hand in front of her face to get her attention.

She broke out of her reverie and sheepishly smiled at him, but her eyes soon went back to Spiriel as she spoke. "I don't mean to be rude, Mister, staring at your girl like that. It's just that she looks so much different than when you left with her! Myra told me she was a drow, and I knew what they looked like from descriptions, but I never realized...." she trailed off, gesturing helplessly with her hand in Spiriel's direction.

Mir just smirked and said, "Yeah, she cleans up pretty well. Now about that food. You'd better bring a bottle of wine up with it." He gave her one last wink and headed for the room, with Spiriel following meekly but closely behind. Not all of the stares in the common room had been hostile. One table sat two very large occupants, one a male and one female. Both wore heavy furs and sported heavy weapons. The male had long red hair, wild and unkempt, and a big bushy beard that hid all of his face but his eyes. His skin, what there was of it that was visible, was ruddy from exposure to harsh weather condition. He could have been a dwarf except for his large proportions, standing at least 6'-10", though it was hard to tell while he was sitting. It was also hard to tell where his furs ended and his own hair and beard began, giving him the look of a wild animal. A heavy two sided battle axe leaned against the table by his side.

His companion was striking in her own way, with long blonde hair plaited into braids on either side of her head. She was quite buxom, and her fur vest was cut to show her generous cleavage. She was almost svelte compared to the man she was with, but only compared to him. To anyone else she would be of Amazonian proportions. Her jawline was prominent, but in a way that complimented her face, her high proud cheekbones balancing her look. She had startling blue eyes that peered out unabashedly from beneath a noble brow and forehead. Those bright blue orbs settled on Mir and his little drow as they passed, and out of the corner of his eye, Mir noted that she leaned in towards her companion and turned his attention towards them. The big hairy man turned his own wild green eyes on the pair, making no attempt to hide his interest in them as they entered the hall that led to their room. Mir could just see the man nod as if in response to his partner's words before the line of sight was cut off.

Just as Mir was about to unlock the door, A voice called out to them. "Warrior, wait!" It was Myra, coming down the hall from the other way, a stack of linens in her hands. She blushed as she approached Mir, certain that her forward manner was only because of what they'd done earlier that morning. "I wanted to let you know that while you were....Oooh!" She stopped in mid-sentence when she got close enough to see Spiriel on the other side of Mir. Like her sister at the bar, Myra's eyes widened as she took in Spiriel's appearance from head to toe, freely letting her eyes roam over the drow. Her lips turned up in a smile of appreciation and she reached out to touch Spiriel's bare shoulder. "Oh wow, you really look pretty, little dark girl! That outfit is amazing on you." Spiriel understood enough of what Myra meant that she beamed a bright proud smile at the girl. She might have hugged her had she not had her hands full of arrows and weapons.

Mir, while pleased that the outfit was showing off his drow in a way that told him his money had been well spent, was eager to hear what it was that Myra had to tell him. "He cleared his throat impatiently, and she realized he was waiting for her to continue. "Oh! I'm sorry." Myra leaned in closer, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "I meant to tell you that while you were out, some soldiers came by looking for you. I heard them tell my father that they wanted to talk to you. They also wanted to search your room, and he let them in. They told him to tell you that you were supposed to report to the captain of the guard because he wanted to talk to you, and that if you didn't come, they would come back and arrest you. Father wasn't going to tell you, because he wanted them to come after you. But I thought you should know."

Spiriel's keen hearing caught enough of what Myra had whispered to recognize the few words that she knew. Soldiers had come. That was never good. What did they want? Would they come back? Would Mir smash their faces into something? She had complete faith that he could, if there were one or two of them, but what if the soldiers came back in greater numbers. Suddenly she was afraid for her warrior. She looked from Myra to Mir as her expression turned from worried to scared, and then hardened with a new resolve as the smile from Myra's praise of her nice new clothes faded to a grim thin line of her lips. Mir had bought weapons. He had said they were for her. And though she didn't know how to use them, she decided her warrior was worth fighting for, if she had to. If it came down to it, she decided, she would become a bad drow. She would kill you-mans.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Posted by Skyguy

Mir wasn't immune to his little drow's charms. More than anyone he knew what a little treat she was. The way her black skin shone in the sunlight gave him an urge to lick her clean from head to foot. She must have been hot, he surmised. The few times he'd been down into caves the colder and darker it went. Her kind lived their entire lives underground where it was cool and dark. They would head north, and she'd get some relief from the temperature but there was little he could do about it being bright.

Inside the inn he found Myra's sister working the bar. He tried to order some food from the older girl but she was taken by something. What that something was should have been obvious as he glanced back and confirmed it was Spiriel. He managed to get the girl's attention regardless and she apologized profusely for being distracted. Mir just smirked and said, "Yeah, she cleans up pretty well. Now about that food. You'd better bring a bottle of wine up with it." He briefly considered seeing if she wanted to come up with them but thought better of it. He had no problem antagonizing the innkeeper but they would be staying two more nights and getting kicked out now wouldn't help anything. If Myra or her sister happened to show up later, well he wouldn't turn them down but actively recruiting them? No. So he left the girl with a wink and turned to leave, noting a pair of northmen off to one side, leave their homes on an errand or returning he didn't know. A week before he might have been tempted to try his luck with the blonde girl but he had her polar opposite now, and the attention they were giving him and Spiriel was not the kind that invited propositioning. Moving to put himself between them and Spiriel he headed upstairs to their room.

He was about to go in when Myra found them, but got distracted by Spiriel. Only after his prompting did he get the full story out of her, including how her father had meant to leave him to be arrested rather than tell him the guards wanted to talk to him.

On his best day Mir could be described as difficult to get along with, so after learning that it came natural to him to make an offer. "If you want, you and your sister could come visit. I'm sure Spiriel would enjoy the company." Myra blushed, but had a coy smile on her face as she hustled away to do her duties. He caught a determined look on Spiriel's face, but he had no idea what to make of it.

Mir finished unlocking his room and went inside. Unlike a professional thief who might have tried to avoid detection the city guard had no such compulsions. His packs had been emptied onto the bed and rummaged through. The bedclothes themselves had been yanked up tossed around, as had everything else in the small room. He had no idea what they might have been looking for or even why they were looking for something to begin with. He'd done good work for them. He'd been paid what was promised. It had been a good arrangement. That's how he always tried to keep working with the city guard. They were usually good sources of income and could make a wanderer's life miserable. He had no idea what might have prompted this kind of tossing.

"Bloody hell," he groused as he knelt and started to clean things up. Nothing looked as if it had been ruined. It had the hallmarks of something done to remind him of his place in things, to remind him that they could do this at will and there was nothing he could do about it. It was bush league, but this wasn’t a particularly big town. He directed Spiriel to put her burden down on the bed and thanked her when she started to help him clean up. There wasn’t much so the effort only took a few minutes, just in time for Myra’s older sister to arrive with a tray of food and a bottle of wine.

She placed the tray on the table but stopped when she turned to leave and saw Spiriel standing there. She blushed when her eyes wandered across Spiriel’s body. Mir’s cough brought her back to the here and now though, and she scurried out of the room. Mir couldn’t blame the girl, Spiriel was amazing looking in the dress, and if she swung her sister’s way... well that was later, for now they had things that had to be done.

“We have to see the guards.” Mir tried to explain as he went to the food. He had been hoping for a nice meal with Spiriel, a leisurely screw, and then just spending some time with her, getting her introduced to her new gear. Plans were just made to be ruined though. “Eat, fast.” he told her, taking out his knife and cutting off a slab of bread. He piled some pieces of meat, cheese, tomatoes and other savory vegetables into it before cutting off another piece of bread and handing it to Spiriel. As he held it out to her he realized his mistake. A sandwich made for him was bigger than the little drow’s head and he sheepishly dropped it to the table and cut it into quarters for her before pouring them both a glass of wine. He made a sandwich for himself and wolfed it down. A mercenary’s manners weren’t courtly. He was used to eating alone, or in the wild, and almost always quickly, putting the sandwich away in less than a dozen bites then draining his cup of wine.

While Spiriel worked on her sandwich Mir looked over the things he’d bought. He considered giving Spiriel her sword now, but without some training in using it she was more dangerous to herself with it. Besides, the little cord holding up her dagger wasn’t nearly big enough for a sword. He reflected on the need of getting her some armor but at the moment he was as good as broke and they didn’t have the time to have anything custom fitted to her small frame. So in a huff he just threw the bed’s comforter over the lot of it and readied himself. He considered leaving Spiriel behind. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her, but he wasn’t oblivious to the looks she’d been getting. He’d heard of nothing major going on, and yet the leader of the town guard wanted to talk to him. He wasn’t one for casting lots but if he had to he’d bet this summons had something to do with Spiriel. If it did, leaving her behind could be worse than taking her with him.


“When we get back,” he told her, “I’ll teach you how to use your sword.” If she was going to travel with him she couldn’t be unarmed and she would have to know how to use it. He wasn’t going to pit her against orcs but he wouldn’t have her defenseless either. When she finished her wine he led her back down and out of the inn, in to the streets. The main drag of the village had a second, slightly smaller street intersecting it at a mostly right angle and when they got to it Mir took a left. A large three story stone building was a ways down. It had the local lord’s crest above the door with crossed swords behind it. Again Mir carried Spiriel across the street, actually enjoying the way she clung to his side when he carried her. It was oddly fulfilling to have someone who relied on him and trusted him like she did.

The guards stationed on either side of the door watched them both intently as Mir opened it and went inside. The central hall inside was wide and long and two stories high. The upper gallery was supported by a row of wooden pillars on either side of the hall and leading off on either side were many rooms. At one end was an imposingly large wooden desk behind which sat the local Duke’s representative, the warden. He was an older man, but he was built much like Mir, large and broad, his skin craggy and leathery. He wore a patch over one of his left eye. He was dressed in furs but underneath the faint scrape and clank of steel armor could be heard as he stood.

“Mir, I presume.” he asked in a raspy growl. “Unless there’s another human running around my city with a drow I don’t know about.”

“I’m he.” Mir answered back but even as he did he felt the room shifting. Guardsmen and others suddenly changed course, cleric and clerks vacating while guardsmen came to attention, and others shifted. He could feel as much as hear the ones putting themselves between Spiriel and him and the door. He’d made a terrible mistake. His hand dropped to his sword and knife as he took a step to the side, starting to put himself between the warden and Spiriel.

The warden was walking around his desk, his heavy footfalls thumping off the stone floor. “That would be a bad idea. You did good work with the orcs, but you’re not going to be able to take on my guardsmen all by yourself, not and get out of here with that little drow spy alive.”

“What are you talking about?” Mir asked.

“That you’re hiding a spy.”

“She’s not a spy,” he snapped.

“Well she wouldn’t tell you that now would she?” the warden said as he strode up. “Hand over your weapons.” When Mir tensed he put his hand out and repeated it. “Your weapons, now, and I won’t hold it against you.”

Mir grimaced as he pondered the situation, then reached for this belt buckle, slowly undoing it before looping it and handing it over to the warden. He nodded to Spiriel to get her to do likewise.

“I’m glad you can be reasonable.” the warden said as he handed over Mir and Spiriel’s weapons to another guardsmen who took them out of the way. The warden himself started to pace around them. “We have a band of drow in the area and, like all of their kind, wherever they go, death follows after them.” He kept walking, looking Spiriel over as he circled them. “They’re looking for something or someone, but when they don’t find it they settle for raping, torturing, and or murdering whoever is unfortunate enough to be in their way.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Mir growled.

The warden stopped and looked dead at Mir. “Are you serious? We have Drow rampaging through the countryside and you think walking into my city with a drow has no connection? A race that is almost never seen?” He shook his head. “You are either lying, or very, very stupid. We’ll find out which, from her. Take her.”

The guardsmen moved in, reaching for Spiriel. Mir’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for someone to intercept but there were too many of them for him to fight off. “Wait!” he barked. “Wait!” He faced the warden, taking a step towards him. The guardsmen nearest the warden went for their weapons but the grizzled man stopped them with a wave of his hand. “She can’t speak well, she barely knows any common. I can help you speak with her.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” the warden said. “But even if she can’t we have ways around that. Take her.”

The guardsmen seized Spiriel by her upper arms and Mir yelled at them as he started towards them.

“HALT!” The warden commanded, and everyone stopped. “Think about what you’re doing,” he said.

“Let me go with her.” Mir asked. “Please.”

The warden looked at Mir, then back to Spiriel. “No.”

The guardsmen drew their swords, leveling them at Mir and Spiriel as they began to drag her towards a room off to the side. Mir was led to a bench beside it and forced to sit at spear point.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Spiriel sensed Mir was upset, but she wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted them when he opened the door to their room. Her mouth dropped open in dismay, and a little moan of despair slipped from her lips. The sight of all of Mir's belongings and the contents of the room tossed and scattered about gave her a sense of foreboding about their circumstances. Since they had come to this town, she'd been aware of the looks and outright resentment of some of the townspeople regarding her presence, but there had been a few who seemed to accept her, and that had given her a bit of optimism about the surface world.

Now, with the knowledge that the guardsmen had come for them, and seeing the wreckage of their quaint little temporary home, she felt as though something bad were going to happen. As Mir began to straighten up, she pitched in to help, casting sidelong glances at him as they worked together. She was his helper, after all, and in exchange, he promised to protect her. But she wondered about this man who could smash a miscreant's face into a counter with sudden and shocking violence, but still treat her with such tenderness and kindness. She had utter faith in him by now, but she still wondered if even he would be able to protect her from guardsmen.

She sensed his anxiety and a bit of impatience as they ate. He told her they had to go see the guardsmen, and she knew that was not going to be a good thing. As she ate the sandwich he made for her, she thought again about how far she would be willing to go to help Mir. She knew almost nothing of fighting, and doubted very much if she could help in that way. But what would he expect of her?

His deep rumble interrupted her thoughts as he told her he'd show her how to use her sword when they returned. Her eyes met his in a long knowing look, but she did not protest this time, only nodded her agreement. It seemed that finding the room in this condition convinced her that there were dangers in the world, even in this city, that Mir might not always be able to protect her from without help. And it wasn't right for her to expect him to do it all. She was sure that he would fight for her; he'd proven his willingness to do that. But he was still only one man. She would learn to use the weapons he had bought for her, so she could help him in that way too, when it was necessary. She only wondered now if waiting until they came back would be too late.

She followed obediently as he led the way out of the inn and down the street. Normally her better instincts told her the thing to do was to get far away from where the guards could bother them, but that was not Mir's way. It was the way of a Drow slave girl, and Spiriel realized she'd have to change her ways to be more like Mir if she wanted to leave that life behind.

Once again they came to a muddy street to cross, and once again Mir showed his intention of carrying her across. This time she helped a little, hopping up into his arms to make it easier for him to lift her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and impulsively laid her head on his shoulder affectionately. She knew people would see, and she didn't care. Something made her worried that it might be the last time she could.

Mir set her down in plain sight of the guards at the door to the building they entered. She didn't pay attention to the smirks on their faces as Mir led the way inside. They walked to the end of the large room, ignoring the many doors that led off of it. Spiriel listened as the big one eyed man at the desk spoke to Mir. She didn't like the man's voice and manner of speaking. His voice seemed to mimic the growl of a cave bear, but although his words were spoken in an even tone, seemingly unthreateningly, they held a note of menace. Of course, it may have been only that she was already on edge from the signals she was picking up from Mir, or from the subtle body language signs she noted in the guardsmen around her. She'd had plenty of practice at interpreting subtle clues about a person's ill intent towards her from the many patrons who had visited her in the temple in the Underdark.

Now these men closed in around them. She practically felt Mir go on his guard, reaching for the hilts of his weapons, and she instinctively did the same, though she knew nothing of how to fight with the dagger at her side. She knew it was pointed and sharp, and it would pierce a body if thrust into it. Likewise it could cut a throat, and that would be what she'd try to do if she had to.

But to her surprise, after the big one eyed man talked to Mir, she saw him hand over his weapons, and turning to her, nodded for her to do the same. She hesitated a moment, looking from Mir to the guards around the room, her delicate ivory brows furled in worry. Mir had promised to protect her. And now he was giving up to these men without even fighting them. He hadn't even smashed any faces into anything. Was it because there was no danger to face from these guards? As she looked into their unkind faces, she didn't think that was the reason Mir handed over his weapons. But she trusted Mir. He must have a reason.

Then she understood.

He was afraid for her, afraid she would get hurt in any fighting that would occur. She was his weakness, and she knew that if they fought here, Mir would be hampered by trying to protect her from them instead of just being able to fight them freely. She could not let him get hurt or killed that way. Not for her.

She drew the dagger slowly, with two fingers on the pommel, and handed it over to the big man with one eye. The tension of the moment drained from her, but still left her breathing heavily, her black breasts heaving with the emotion. The big man handed over their weapons to another guard then began circling her. The way his one baleful eye looked at her, like she was a bug under some sort of glass, made her flesh crawl. But there was nothing for it but to endure his scrutiny. He had plenty of guardsmen to enforce his will, and what could she do?

The man spoke to Mir, and she caught a word or two now and then. Damn these fast talking you-mans, she thought. If only they would speak slower, she felt sure she could understand more of what was going on. As it was though, she heard something about a band of Drow, and killing and torture. It didn't take much to figure out that the ones who were searching for her must be causing trouble for these humans.

Mir spoke again and the man replied with an angry voice, all hint of non-threatening intent gone now. He shouted at his men to take her, and the guards moved in to seize her arms. Spiriel struggled, lashing out with her feet and trying to pull away, but it was of little use as they overpowered her. Some of the other guards pointed their swords at Mir and she stopped her struggles. Their message was clear in its intent. They couldn't be sure that she cared for her human companion - she was a Drow - but the fact that she stopped struggling when threats were leveled on him made it clear enough.

They dragged her off through one of the doorways to a small room and stood holding her arms behind her back. The big man with the one eye came in the room behind her and closed the door. There was little to furnish the room, but the big man sat in a chair behind a little table. The guards holding her arms brought her forward to stand in front of him as he looked her over with his solitary eye.

"Well, I suppose you're wondering what we're going to do with you, eh?" His voice seemed to be more of a growl than before. "Well first, I think it might be a good idea to search you. We have to make sure you aren't hiding any weapons in those clothes of yours. I wouldn't want you trying to slit the throats of any of my men."

At his gesture, two more guards whom she hadn't seen enter the room, came forward and reached for her, roughly pawing at her to see how her clothing fastened. She struggled and fought to get free, even kicking one of the men. But she was only rewarded with a slap to her face that left her stunned and bleeding from a split lip. They continued their crude attempts to figure out how her clothing fastened, now without as much resistance from her. But finally out of frustration, the guard simply yanked the top down off her shoulder, and with another yank, exposed her breasts. She shrieked a gasp, but it was more from worry about what they would do to her than because of her exposure.

The second guard, noting the effectiveness of his companions actions, grabbed her skirt-like bottoms and roughly tugged them down her legs, popping the fasteners of the little belt that held the garment around her waist. Now exposed as she was, there was little to stop the rough hands that groped and probed her. Spiriel sobbed as calloused fingers squeezed her breasts roughly, while others cupped her between her legs, all the while her arms held pinned behind her, ensuring she could do nothing about it. The guardsman let out with an astonished cry as his fingers poked between her thighs, despite her clenching them together as tightly as she could.

"What is it?" the One Eyed man questioned.

"Cap'n, she ain't got no woman-parts. There just ain't nothin' there!"

The Big man paused a moment, disbelieving, then ordered, "Bring her here. Put her on the table, I'll see this for myself." The guards lifted her bodily, laying her across the table on her back. The two who had partially stripped her each grabbed her legs and forcefully pulled them apart, exposing her completely. She shrieked as the rough hands forced her to be exposed to their stares. Her silvery eyes filled with tears as she looked from one to the other of the men, seeking any sort of pity, only to find heartless expressions, tempered only with lusty interest and curiosity.

The captain approached her, coming from the end of the table where they held her legs apart. He stooped down to see more directly, and then reached for a candle lantern, opening the hood to shine its light on her groin. He stared as she lay there trembling in fear and pent up frustration at the way they were forcing this treatment upon her, keeping her helpless to resist. Spiriel screamed and kicked at him when he reached out to touch her lip flap, his finger lifting the fold of flesh lightly, noting the bright pink within. He drew back his finger at the sound of the scream, as if he'd burnt it touching her flesh, and he stepped back away from her. His eyes had come up to look at hers, now crimson red from the reflection of the candle light in her tapetum lucidum. But all he knew was that hateful red eyed glare boring into him. He wasn't taking any chances of her being a Drow witch and laying a curse upon him

He signaled the guards to let her up and make her sit in the chair. As they did so, Spiriel's tears streamed down her black cheeks in silence, but her eyes glared her defiance. The captain, unnerved by what he'd seen, ordered the guards to release her, though they stood ready beside her chair to seize her again on the slightest provocation. Spiriel began to gather up her clothes around her again, arranging the garment to it's former condition, all but the popped fasteners on the belt. She could not repair that, so she simply pulled the loin cloth part up through the little cord that had held her dagger.

The captain stood on the other side of the table, and leaned over her. "Well, I can see what the warrior sees in you. Maybe that's why he didn't want us to question you. But we're going to do so all the same. Let's start with your name. What are you called?"

Spiriel knew what he was asking, but she hated him at that moment, and was determined to resist in any way she could. She just glared at him sullenly. The captain lost his temper and shouted at her, "WHAT IS YOUR DAMNED NAME, DROW WITCH?"
His sudden shout startled her and she jumped a little. But it had the effect of shaking her up enough to answer.

"S-Spiriel.....Speer---eee---elle." she spat at him before lapsing into quiet again.

"That's better, Spiriel. Now let me explain how this is going to happen. I'm going to ask you some questions, and if you don't answer me right away, I'm going to hurt you or hurt Mir. Whatever I have to do to get my answers, that is what I will do. Understand?"

She didn't know all the words the big man said to her, but she understood that they meant to hurt Mir or her if she didn't do what they wanted. She just didn't know what that would be. But she nodded, hoping the gesture would please the man. It seemed to as he, too, nodded and his voice got a little more reasonable as he continued. "Now tell me what you know about the Drow patrol out on our borders. Are they looking for something? Are they looking for your black ass?"

Spiriel tried to listen intently to this man, to try to understand his words. He said something about a Drow patrol, but she didn't know exactly what. Her head cocked to one side as she asked, "What means, 'your black ass'? What means this words?" The guardsmen snickered as she asked the question, mimicking even their captain's tone of voice perfectly as she said his own words back to him.

The captain's brow furrowed. Maybe the warrior was telling the truth about her not knowing the common tongue enough to be questioned. But he thought he'd try again. "I mean, are the Drow soldiers looking for you. Are they after you?" He knew by the look in her eyes that she understood that, and that she thought they would be. "That's it, isn't it. They are after you for some reason. But why? That is the question. What are you to them?" He leaned in, speaking slowly to try to make himself understood. "You're some kind of freak; I've seen that for myself. What do they want you for? Who are you?"

Spiriel still did not understand all of what he asked her, but she answered what she knew. "Spiriel is Mir's helper. Good Drow girl. Good helper. No kill you-mans." It had almost become her mantra, and it rolled off her tongue easier each time she said it. It was becoming her main identity feature, this way of explaining that she was different from other Drow.

The captain mocked her answer, "Oh, that's so good to hear, you no kill humans, eh? Well, boys, I guess we all have just misunderstood this little freak then. She's just here to spread roses and sunshine. Oh, and to help poor Mir out there. She's his helper." The guards snickered again, eager to share in their captain's mockery.

"You still haven't told me why they are out there. Why are the Drow raiders above ground? What are they after? Is it a war party? A raiding party? Answer me!"

Spiriel shook her head, confused by so many words all at once. She tried to answer but told him nothing more than he already knew. "Drow soldiers come. Bad, bad. Kill you-mans. Not good Drow...." Her words were cut off by the captain's slap across her mouth, opening the cut on her lip again and causing it to begin to swell. He turned away as she sobbed, muttering to his men. "This is pointless. She's either stupid or she really doesn't understand. Or maybe she doesn't speak the language well enough to answer. Anyhow it's all the same. You, go find me someone who can speak Drow, or barring that, someone who can cast a language spell. The rest of you, put her in a cell. We'll hold onto her until we can get some answers. In the mean time, bring that drifter in here. We'll see what he knows."

The door next to the bench upon which Mir sat opened suddenly, and a guard hurried out and down the length of the building to the exit. He hadn't gotten half way before two more emerged, dragging the little drow between them. Another followed behind, his sword at the ready. As they passed, Spiriel's head lifted a little to glance at Mir. Her bottom lip was swollen and bruised, even under her dark skin, and blood was dribbling down her chin. Her cheek and eye looked swollen too, and her clothing was in disarray. But most striking was the look she gave Mir as they dragged her past. It showed every hurt they'd inflicted on her in the defeated posture of her body and the expression on her face.....

Until she managed a weak smile before they led her away.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Skyguy's post

Mir glared at the two guards in front of him. Neither of them were pointing their pikes at him but both were at the ready. Two more guards had flanked the door they’d taken Spiriel though and there were still a good dozen milling around the place. They weren’t impressing him with their bearing but sixteen well armed amateurs and who knew how many more in adjoining rooms out of sight were more than enough to stop him, especially unarmed. He might, might be able to take these four but he wouldn’t make it much beyond them. Even if he did, what then? There was no way he’d be able to collect his things from the inn, the horse, anything. They wouldn’t be able to get far. He hated it, but he didn’t have a choice at the moment so he contented himself with staring at the guards, making it plain as day he was imagining ways to kill them.

The wait was interminable. Spiriel was alone, without him, and surrounded by people who were convinced she was a spy. He’d been subjected to the tender mercies of these kind of men before when they were convinced he was a threat. It hadn’t been fun and he still bore scars from those encounters. It was horrifying to think what might be happening, but it was even less pleasant when the doubts started to creep in; dark unpleasant whispers raising the question of what if she was a spy? What if he’d brought her into this town just like she’d wanted? He tried to clear those thoughts out but they wouldn’t go away. If she was a spy, she was a horrible one. She’d spent all her time clinging to him, trying to get him to protect her...letting her walk right through the town with few people willing to risk his ire to stop her. She had his trust, and wouldn’t that be worth a little time?

He grumbled at the ground. No, she was terrified and alone, not a spy. He’d been with her, looked her in the eyes, if she was acting she was the most convincing actress he’d ever seen. Of course, what did the drow want with her? Runaway slave? Thief? He supposed it didn’t matter. He certainly didn’t care. The real question was what would the guards do? If they thought giving Spiriel over would get rid of the Drow they might do it. They would do it.

As he waited he twitched and fidgeted with each yell of the captain, getting louder and more demanding. “She can’t speak common very well.” he told the guards. “Tell the captain that.”

“Shut up,” one of the guardsmen said, twisting his spear ninety degrees and slapping Mir with the side of it.

He grabbed the spear shaft right behind the head but any retort he would have made was cut off when the doors to the room banged open and Spiriel was led out between two guardsmen. The haunted look in her eyes, her bruised face, and the trickle of crimson blood staining her skin made him see red. He was about rip the spear from the guardsmen’s hand and beat him to death with it when she gave him that tiny smile. It was a little thing, but she was enduring. They hadn’t done anything to her she couldn’t survive, and he let go of the spear. The guardsman reared back, ready to strike at Mir but his superior’s bellow for him stopped him in his tracks.

“Come on you worthless bastard.” the embarrassed guardsman’s partner said. Unlike his buddy he was half a meter farther back, and with only the sharp steel head of his spear within Mir’s reach. With no other choice and a little more hope in his heart Mir let himself be led inside.

The room wasn’t very large, just a table with a couple of chairs. The warden was sitting in one and the captain of the guard was in another, both of them looking at him. And with the two guardsmen who followed him in, there were now four in the room, all armed and armored and watching him intently.

“Sit down.” the warden growled, indicating the lone unoccupied seat in the room, across the table from him.

With no other real options open to him Mir sat down.

The warden looked him in the eyes. “Your little drow witch told us everything.”

“Bullshit!” Mir snapped.

“Sang like a little bird.”

“And let me guess; you just want me to tell the truth and corroborate her story. If I lie then you’ll do something unpleasant to the both of us.,” he sneered. “Stop wasting my fucking time.” he snarled. “I know the routine. You think you’re the first sheriff of some piss-ant town to question me?”

The warden leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the table. “Then if you know the routine why don’t we just skip to the unpleasantness. That’s not bullshit, and I won’t waste my fucking time with you not cooperating.”

“Why don’t you just ask me a fucking question instead of this crap? I’ve got shit to do.”

“Fine then, where did she come from?”

“The Underdark.” The captain of the guard lashed out and backhanded Mir with his chainmail covered hand. Mir tasted blood but swallowed it rather than give them the pleasure of seeing it. “You letting women in the guard now?”

The captain reared back to slap Mir again until the Warden cast him a sidelong glance and the man sat back down. “Where did you find her?”

“A day’s ride outside of town, in the foothills. She didn’t have a damn thing on her but a shawl.” The captain lashed out again and rocked Mir’s head back and split his lip. He sucked the blood off rather than let it drip down. “You comin’ onto me darlin?” he asked the captain out the side of his mouth.

“She didn’t just have a shawl on.” the warden said. With a flick of his wrist the small ceremonial dagger Mir had sold to the weaponsmith was buried in the table between them. The captain backhanded him again.

“Does your husband know you’re here, sweetheart?” he asked the captain. “Okay, she also had a dagger on her that wasn’t good for anything.”

“Omit another detail like that and the next time the captain lays a hand on someone, it’ll be her.” the warden threatened.

“The hell he will.”

“Talk!” the warden barked. “Why didn’t you kill her?”

“Because she weighed eighty pounds soaking wet, had a dagger that wasn’t worth a damn, and have you looked at her?”

“It’d be a waste to kill her?”

“Exactly. Better off a slave.”

The guard captain dropped a second dagger on the table, Spiriel’s. “You’re the first man in a long time I’ve seen that gave his slave a weapon. The first one I’ve ever seen that also planned on giving them a sword and bow.”

“I’ll wring his fucking neck.” Mir said under his breath. “So what? I’ve got daggers, swords, and my own bow in my room. If she was going to kill me she could. I make a living as a mercenary. I can’t do my job if she can’t defend herself.”

“So you give a Drow you’ve known for what, three days, a sword?”

“She probably has him under some kind of glamour.” the captain said.

“Or he’s just that stupid.” the warden said.

“How could she be a spy? We weren’t even going to stay. Tomorrow I was going to get on a horse and ride north.”

“Then what are the other drow here for?”

“Damned if I know.”

“Bring her!” the warden barked and one of the guardsmen turned for the door.

“WAIT!” Mir yelped, half rising from his seat. The other guardsmen all had their hands on their swords or lowered their spears at him. “Just, wait.”

“What did I tell you about omitting things?” the warden asked.

“I didn’t get to that part. She’s probably a slave or something, escaped. That’s probably what they’re here for.”

“So if we give her to them...” the captain began.

“NO!” Mir snarled, shooting to his feet.

“SIT. DOWN!” the warden ordered. Everyone in the room paused, swords half drawn, Mir standing there, the captain having pushed his own chair back to stand. Slowly Mir lowered himself down into the chair. “We don’t know that, for certain.” the Warden continued. “All we have are the musings of this glamoured fool. If we give her back she might just turn up elsewhere or do a better job of hiding. I want to know the truth before we do anything.”

The door to the room opened up and Mir muttered, “Oh gawddamnit.” under his breath as Althea was led into the room.

“Can you speak drow?” The warden asked, cutting right to it.

Althea’s delicate elven features screwed up in disgust at the thought. “No, never!”

The warden looked over her shoulder at the men behind her. “Then why did you bring her here?”

“Tell him!” one of them urged.

“I can scry other’s thoughts.” she said proudly.

“She’s the best we could find.” the guardsmen explained. “We couldn’t find no one that spoke drow.”

“No one civilized does.” Althea said haughtily.

“Then tell me his thoughts.” the Warden said, jamming a finger at Mir.

“Hell no!” Mir shot back.

“The drow lover?” Althea asked in disdain.

“Yes, him. I need to know what he and that drow are up to. Now get on with it.”

“I’d rather scry a rat.” Althea spat.

“And that’s all you’ll do if you don’t stop wasting time! A drow raiding party is loose in my canton and people are dying! This man and his drow have something to do with it and I need to know what that is NOW! So you either do as you are told or you’ll join them in the dungeon until I hand you over to the black devils!”

Althea nodded jerkily and walked over to Mir, obviously not happy about the situation. She leaned towards him and reached out her hand towards the side of his face.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I have to touch you to scry you.”

Mir winced, uncomfortable with the whole idea but he didn’t move again, letting Althea settle her hand on the juncture between his neck and jaw. Her fingers splayed out behind his ear as she closed her eyes. At first he was unaware of any difference, just off put by Althea’s closeness and everyone watching them so intently. Althea wasn’t unattractive, quite the opposite, it was just her attitude he disliked, her casual loathing of Spiriel with no thinking reason for it. That was the tick though, as the thought of Spiriel passed through his mind he felt her presence for the first time. Like a static shock, it darted from where her hand was pressed against him to that thought of Spiriel. On the edge of his consciousness he could feel Althea starting to dig in his mind, looking for memories or thoughts of Spiriel, each thing she drug up making him want to think of her more. He started to snarl but he felt like he was trying to move while submerged in syrup.

This little elf bitch was not going to go rooting through his head like that. He felt her attention shift. That short mention of her got her attention and split it. The static was split, one still trying to rifle through his mind after Spiriel, but part of her paying attention to the thoughts of her he was having. Being the colossal asshole that he was Mir immediately latched onto this and shot back at her, going from thinking of how much she annoyed him for the casual dismissal of someone he cared about, to something far lewder, thinking about just how he’d like to “teach her a lesson,” for that, with his dick. Every position, every orifice, every depraved act he could think of committing with the blonde elf he thought of and he could see written on her face the struggle she was undergoing. It was when he added Spiriel to the mix that he felt her entire focus shift to his thoughts about her. Her and Spiriel, him and Spiriel, then as if through cotton, he heard her gasp out at one thought.

“Like that?” he asked, though to his ears it sounded like he was talking underwater. Her attention was off Spiriel though, or at least on robbing his mind of his thoughts of her, and instead focused on the scene in his head that he was building, almost a prison for her in his own head: a vision of her naked on her knees with his manhood stuffed up her cute little bottom while she and Spiriel pleasured each other head to womanhood on the bed beneath him.

And seconds later he felt the world rush back to full clarity around him, rocking him back in his chair and leaving him dazed as Althea snatched her hand away from him and shook it.

“Well?” the warden prompted.

“Nothing, he blocked me before I could learn anything of import. He didn’t feel like he was lying, but he did find a way to block me.”

“We don’t have time for this.” the warden snapped. “Bring the drow back in.”

 

[Annisthyrienne]

The two guardsmen hauled Spiriel bodily to a cell down the hall. Despite the firm grip on her arms, they were loath to touch her more than necessary, and held her suspended between them in such a way as not let her come into contact with their bodies as they walked. They traded suspicious glances over her bowed head until they got to the cell. Suddenly they coordinated their move, each turning their grip on her arms, forcing them behind her back and pushing her up against the wall.

"Quick, get her hands tied. Find something to gag her with. Don't give this black witch any chance to cast her spells!" The third man hastened to comply, and soon the little Drow found her hands tied behind her back, and a dirty rag stuffed into her mouth, and secured with a scarf over her lips. She tried crying out, startled, but a heavy mailed hand struck her into a stunned silence.

She lay on the floor in the cell, whimpering at the sting in her jaw and lips, glaring at the muttering men outside her cell.

"Do you think it's true what the captain said?"

"Maybe, but I know what I saw. She ain't right 'down there'."

"Well she's Drow, maybe that's how they are?"

"Naw! I heard from a guy I met down south that he spent the night with a Drow bitch in one of them fancy cat houses one time. He had plenty of stories to tell about it, and he sure didn't mention anything different like that."

"Then why is she like that? She must be a witch! Do ye reckon she did it to herself? But why?"

"I dunno, but what do ye suppose he did with her? You think he knows how she is?"

"Yeah.....he knows. Did you see how he looked at her?"

Spiriel looked up at the hard gazes cast her way as the three men lapsed into silence, each man musing on his own thoughts.

+++++++++++++++++

“We don’t have time for this.” the warden snapped. “Bring the drow back in.”

Spiriel struggled ineffectively against the strong grip of the guardsmen as they once again half dragged, half carried her back to the interrogation room. After her previous experience, she didn't want to return to the room. She was still gagged, and her hands were tied. She cast her glance around the outer chamber, wild eyed, searching for Mir everywhere. But all she saw was more guards, and their faces reflected only unfriendly glares. One of the guards at the door opened it and the man behind her pushed her through roughly. She stumbled to a halt, eyes searching the room. Two things became apparent to her almost immediately. Her eyes settled upon Mir, and the expression in them changed from fear to comfort.

And then she saw Althea.

Spiriel panicked. Her eyes widened in abject terror and she bodily threw herself back towards the door, colliding with the guards. Despite her slight frame, her actions were unexpected, and everyone in the chamber except for Mir and Althea interpreted her reaction as an attempt to escape. The three guards attempting to come into the door suddenly found themselves confronted by the self flung body of a Drow witch seemingly attacking them.

All three attempted to subdue her, one raising his sword to strike. Mir started from his chair, shouting a protest. The warden stood up so quickly that he overturned his chair, then as he stepped away from the conflict, he stumbled over the obstacle and fell backward. The captain lunged across the table to attempt to keep Mir from moving to help the Drow, and the guards behind Mir clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder to force him back into his chair.

The guard brought his sword down in an arcing strike. The heavy pommel crashed into Spiriel's ivory colored hair, and she dropped like a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut. For an overextended moment, everyone in the room just seemed to freeze. Finally the warden struggled to his feet, noticed the fallen Drow and the soldier looming over her prone form. He noticed Mir, half crouched at the far side of the table, surrounded by guards. Jerking a finger at him, he growled, "You! SIT!"

Then he rounded on the guardsmen at the door. "Idiot! What have you done?" The warden crossed the room and knelt by the prone form, reaching out to check her to see if she was breathing. "She's out cold. Just how are we supposed to question her now, Fool!"

The captain barked an order to get some water to dowse her with to revive her, and one of the guards who had escorted her to the room left quickly to comply. The captain asked, "I wonder what set her off. She didn't act that way before."

Mir grunted sarcastically. "Probably your charming hospitality."

Althea and the captain both shot him a look. Their expressions were different. But it was the captain who answered. "No, I don't think so. She would have reacted before she came into the room. She came in, saw you and reacted, but it was like she was reassured. Then she looked at....you." he said, pointing to Althea.

The elf looked at him, startled. "Me? Why should that make any difference?"

"I don't know. Suppose you tell us."

The warden listened, his interest piqued.

Althea's voice raised in pitch as she began to feel the interest of the interrogators shift to her. "I don't know! Why do those black animals do anything they do? How should I know what she was thinking?"

The warden seized upon her choice of words like a cat pouncing on a mouse. "Ah! But you can know what she's thinking, can't you. We will, of course, expect you to use your talents on her since it was less than informative on the mercenary."

"You expect me to actually touch that...." she said, her voice low and full of venom.

"Absolutely I do. I seem to recall you saying that was how you had to do it." the warden replied. His tone and expression made it clear that she had no choice if she wanted to leave when it was all over. Just then the guard returned with a small pail filled with water. He was about to pour it on the little Drow woman on the floor when Althea spoke up suddenly. "Wait! If you insist I try to read her, it will be better if she's unconscious. There will be no way she can block me like he did." She glared at Mir, her expression a mix of disgust at the memory of what he had done, and haughty smugness as she saw the way he reacted to her revelation.

The warden waved the guard away, then gestured to a couple of the others. "Put her on the table. You three....watch him! Make sure he stays in that chair." To Mir he said, "One wrong move from you, and she pays the price. Do you understand me clearly?" Without waiting for an acknowledgment of his threat, he gestured for the elf to proceed.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Althea watched as the guards lifted the Drow onto the table, laying her on her back, legs hanging over the end from the knees down, and her head partly hanging off the other end enough to tilt back off the edge of the table, exposing her throat and letting her silky white hair hang down in a curtain that nearly touched the floor. The elf hesitated, rubbing her hands as she held them up near her chin, as if working up the nerve to actually touch the black skin of the girl on the table. Althea's eyes roamed over the young Drow's unconscious body, whether stalling for time or trying to gain her focus, it wasn't clear.

"Get on with it!" came the rough voice from the captain, startling Althea from her concentration. She hissed in annoyance. "I'm trying! Give me a moment to focus." She glanced furtively at Mir to see if he was reacting in any way, but quickly turned back to her task. At last she began to place her spread fingers on each side of Spiriel's head, her fingertips slipping through the silky hair to find their places on her scalp and the skin of her neck. She pulled back again, as if touching Spiriel's black skin had burnt her. "You're going to have to take off the gag. I need to touch her underneath, where the scarf is covering.

The warden nodded, and one of the guards stepped forward to remove it. Once again the she-elf placed her fingertips carefully on the Drow's temples, scalp, behind her delicately pointed ears, and under her jaw along her pulse. Althea's eyes closed as she began to concentrate.

Her facial features registered her initial revulsion as she began to make contact. After a pregnant moment of hushed silence in the room, Althea's voice, as if from somewhere far away, uttered one word, "Ask."

The warden looked at the captain of the guards, then a quick glance at Mir, before he returned his attention to the elf. "Who is she? Is she a spy? What is she doing in our town. Why did he bring her here? What do the rest of them want? Are they after her? What makes her so important to them?"

Althea hissed in annoyance, not even a word, but just a guttural sound of annoyance. "One....question....at.....a time!"

The warden's expression showed his impatience. What the hell did he know about elvish mind scrying? He bit back a bitter retort and focused on his questions, putting them in order of importance. After a moment, he continued gruffly, "Alright then, did she come here to spy for the Drow?"

Althea concentrated as she sorted through Spiriel's thoughts and dredged up her memories of the past few days to find the answer. In a trance-like voice she replied, "No. She didn't know about this town until he brought her here."

"Then who is she?"

Again her voice sounded in a monotone, as if distracted. As the elf pried through her mind, Spiriel's unconscious face registered a troubled expression. "She is a slave girl, escaped from the temple of their goddess."

The warden looked over at Mir. Apparently what little the mercenary had told them had at least been truthful, if not exactly forthcoming. "Are the others after her?"

Althea answered more quickly this time. "She believes they are."

 

[Annisthyrienne]

The captain of the guard leaned in to consult with the warden in whispered tones. Meanwhile, unnoticed by the two men, Althea's expression seemed to take on a deeper focus. Spiriel's face showed her distress, and her body squirmed slightly. Her movements were slow, as if drugged. But her hands were still tied behind her back, so the she-elf was not disturbed by the slight movement. Althea's lips curled into a sneering mocking smile. It did not go unnoticed by the warden.

"What? What is it?"

The elf replied, "The reason she reacted so desperately when she saw me. She thought I would kill her on sight."

The captain of the guard grunted, "Well, who wouldn't? The only good Drow are dead ones. You'd have been doing the world a favor if you had killed her when you had the chance." He pointedly addressed the last comment to Mir, but Althea continued before any reply could be made.

"No, they taught her that to control her, to keep her in fear. They told her that all the surface races would kill her, but especially elves. In her simple thoughts, she understands it to mean that an elf could take her life by magic or some unknown power. She is afraid of humans too, but thanks to him.....she is beginning to trust some. I sense that she understands that not all humans are out to kill her. Her experience with him has made her think that way." She smirked derisively, obviously contemptuous of Mir's treatment of the Drow girl.

The warden grunted, waving away the conversation impatiently. "I don't really care about who she's afraid of and who she trusts. What I want to know is what makes her so special. If she's not a spy, then she must be valuable to them in some way. Find out why she thinks they are after her. We need to know if we can use her to bargain with them. Maybe if we offer to give her to them, they'll take her and leave."

Althea nodded very slowly, her brow tightening with her concentration. She knew if the Drow had been conscious, she'd never be able to listen to the warden and scry the Drow's mind at the same time. She delved deeper, making connections, searching Spiriel's memories and feelings, going back in time through the recent events in the Drow's memory to find the answers the warden sought. She began a free flowing commentary on what she was uncovering. Her voice was halting, stilted as she tried to concentrate and speak at the same time.

"She was....a temple slave.....a whore....used for the pleasure of.....soldiers and.....acolytes, clergy, worshippers, devotees......anyone who wanted to use her." Althea's brows furrowed in a troubled expression. Her voice took on a stammer as she continued, obviously experiencing increasing distress as she delved into the Drow's mind. "They cared nothing for her. She was just an object to be used. But she was....unique. Her body was special....."

The warden cleared his throat. "Yes, we've seen it. Why is she that way? Is there something wrong with her?"

For a long moment, Althea hesitated. Her face took on a look of pain and disgust. Under her touch, Spiriel whimpered and writhed, pressing her thighs together tightly and attempting to lift her legs up to curl into a fetal position. The watching guards shuffled nervously, and the captain gruffly ordered them to hold her down. Two of them stepped forward, each of them taking one slender dark thigh in their calloused hands and pinning her to the table. Spiriel resisted, crying out piteously, but they were too strong.

Althea suddenly gasped, her whole body jerking. "T-They....did it. T-they b-burned her....with magic.....No, n-not burning.....The magic they used to change her.....it burns! Oh! So much pain!" The elf's voice reflected the agony she was experiencing vicariously through Spiriel's memories.

"S-she was just a girl....s-so young..... They changed her, to use her, for their p-perverted lusts! Took her from her parents..... They tried....to corrupt her, but.... S-she is.....naive......innocent....still young in her mind." Tears were forming in the elf's eyes, spilling over to fall down her cheeks. Her breathing had become heavy and ragged as she relived the pain of the memories. She lapsed into silence as she struggled to regain control of her perspective, to pull back her focus enough to continue from a more impartial point of view. The other occupants of the room were quiet, hanging on her words, waiting for her to continue. At last she jumped ahead in Spiriel's memories and began to speak again.

As the memories and thoughts shifted away from the more distressing ones, Spiriel's bodily struggles calmed somewhat. She lay still under the guard's hands. One guard holding down a dark thigh glanced down at where his hands contacted her skin, realizing that his fingers were only inches away from the place where they had changed her. Under his fingers, her flesh was warm and soft, the same as any woman. He had first thought that she must have been some sort of witch because she had no normal sex. Now he could barely imagine the horrors her own people had perpetrated on her.

Althea's voice continued, sounding loud by comparison in the silent room, but also raw edged with emotion. "She overheard them speaking. She was to be sacrificed to their goddess. She was scared.....desperate to live. She stole the little dagger from the sacrificial altar and escaped. She was terrified of the surface world. She never would have gone into the sun. But she had no other place to go. They hunted her for days. Then he found her."

 

[Annisthyrienne]

The captain of the guards perked up. "So she's their sacrifice. That's more important than a mere sex slave. Maybe they would negotiate for her return." The warden scrutinized Mir, noting how the mercenary sat tensely on the edge of the chair he occupied, glaring at the elf and the guards and the warden in turn. The grim set of his jaw suggested another possibility to the mind of the warden.

Shrewdly, the calculating man spoke up. "We don't know if they would just take her and go. They are Drow, after all. What is to say they wouldn't take her, sacrifice her to their demon, and then come right back to cause more trouble? She's disposable to them; we already know that. But maybe there is another way of dealing with them. Maybe she is more valuable to someone else, eh Mercenary?" He lifted one eyebrow, regarding Mir with a questioning look. "Perhaps you'll feel a little more cooperative now. Or maybe we could see what else we could get out of her.....in private."

His meaning was clear, and it snapped Althea out of her trance. She pulled her hands away from the Drow girl's skin as if dropping a hot log from the fire. "Not with me. I will have nothing more to do with this. What you suggest is no better than the way her own people treated her." She glanced over at Mir, re-evaluating him with her look before dropping her gaze. The gesture could have been shame for her part in the whole affair, or apology, but she said nothing more.

The warden regarded her appraisingly. "I think we can handle it from here. If we should need your abilities again, we know where to find you. In the meantime..." he gestured to the guards holding down the young black skinned girl, now slack and unresisting on the table. "Take her away and put her someplace secure. We may have need of her yet if we decide to give her to them." The guards lifted her bodily, suspended between them, and carried her out of the room.

Althea asked, "What will they do to her?"

"Oh, they won't hurt her....not seriously....not if we get...cooperation." the warden answered cryptically. The she-elf barely disguised her revulsion as she studiously avoided looking at Mir.

The warden continued, directing his attention to Mir. "Well....Are you feeling more 'reasonable' now?"

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Skyguy's post

When Althea glanced at him prior to touching Spiriel Mir just glared at her pouring all his anger into his eyes. Her rummaging around in his head was bad enough. He’d figured out a way to fight back. Spiriel would have no such chance to fight back against this violation.

When Althea answered if she’d been sent here to be a spy Mir felt more relief than he should have. Enough relief he was actually ashamed of himself for it. He couldn’t help wondering if he really had trusted her that little. He didn’t fear her, certainly. Even armed she was no threat to him, but he’d let himself get closer to her than he would have let anyone else, maybe even left himself a bit vulnerable in her regard so this relief, it wasn’t pleasant.

The captain's comment a few moments later about killing Spiriel left Mir snarling at him. The hits before? Annoying but understandable. This? This wasn’t. Any retort he had died though as Althea plunged on, and he dearly wished she hadn’t. Slaves were never treated the best in any society but listening to what they’d done to her, how she’d been used, even for Mir it wasn’t easy to hear, not about someone he cared for. It, of course, got worse, listening to Spiriel moan and whimper, trying to get away from having her memories, especially such awful ones, brought back. What they’d done to her was a special kind of evil, a hateful wicked thing. They were the kind of people Mir gladly killed for free.

Althea’s refusal to aid the warden caught Mir off guard. He had assumed the trembling in her body and her voice during the scrying had been from the effort of it, but now she was refusing to help them do any more to Spiriel.

It was the warden’s show now though, so when he asked, "Well....Are you feeling more 'reasonable' now?" he had Mir’s full attention again.

Mir’s mind spun but it could gain no traction. The guardsmen still had Spiriel and he had no real chance of breaking her out. Just getting out of this room full of armed guards would be a miracle. There was a slim chance he could escape by himself, but none that he could do it with Spiriel which left him with few options but to play the Warden’s game.

“What do you want?” He said slowly and quietly.

“The drow raiders out of my canton.”

“If I do it?”

The captain snorted but the Warden didn’t blink. “The drow bitch, and you get her out of my canton.”

“How long?”

“Three days. If they aren’t dead or gone in three days I give the little bitch to them and they can go cut her heart out for their heathen spider god.”

Mir mulled it over. One man against an entire raiding party? It was long odds, and being drow they’d likely have at least one spell caster with them. Spiriel was the price however. If he failed, or if he just ran, she would die. He had no doubt the warden meant it. If he had to send Spiriel back to be killed to get the drow to leave he’d gladly do it. “Fine. Three days. But I’m gonna need a saddle and a map of where they’ve been spotted.”

The captain scoffed but he was shut up with a gesture from the warden. “Three days. Be quick about it, people are dying because they are looking for that little black witch.”

“I want to talk to her before I go.”

“She’s out cold, and I don’t have the patience to wait. Go, now, before I decide to hand her over.”

“Not a hair on her head better be touched when I get back. You heard what the elf said; she hasn’t done a damn thing wrong.” Mir stood up from his chair and the warden gestured towards the door. A guardsman handed Mir back his sword belt and waited for him to fasten it on before handing him a map. “My things are in the inn. I won’t need them all while I’m out.”

“They’ll be there when you return.” the warden assured him.

“If you return,” the captain muttered.

“Don’t worry your pretty head sweetheart; I’ll give you a kiss when I get back.” Mir taunted him before heading for the door. Beyond it was another guardsman bringing a saddle which Mir relieved him of. He could feel the stares of the guardsmen on his back as he left the building and he tried to ignore them. He was leaving Spiriel with these people and reflecting on the enmity they had for him wasn’t making it any easier.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Skyguy's post

He walked out onto the boardwalk in front of the constabulary and took a deep breath. He had gotten himself in way over his head and he knew it. He was about to turn and get going when a gruff voice called out, “Mir!” His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword as he turned around. To his surprise he saw the two Norsemen from the inn coming towards him. He got a better look at them now; the man was tall and broad. Mir was not a small man but this giant made him feel like one. His unkempt red hair and great bushy beard hid his face. The woman was Mir’s height but she was no slouch. Her generous bosom was on display by her low cut furs but she was no trollop, everywhere else she was solid muscle, an amazon in build if not name.

“Who are you?” Mir asked as they approached.

“I’m Rothgar, and this is Helwyn,” the man explained. “We’re from the Kingdom of Smarrland to the north.”

“What would you want with me?”

“Our Kingdom is facing dangers and we’ve been sent to recruit mercenaries for help. We’ve already recruited quite a few, but when we heard of what you’d done with the orcs we knew you could be of help as well. We’re headed back north now. The pay is excellent; we’ll put you up in a fine inn, and pay your expenses.”

Mir shook his head slowly. “You should have talked to me a couple hours ago.”

“The girl.” the woman stated.

Mir nodded. “I can’t leave without her.”

“She’s drow,” Rothgar observed.

“Yeah.”

“The raiders we’ve heard about.” Helwyn said.

“They’re here for her.” Mir explained. “They want her for a sacrifice; she objected. I either get rid of them...”

“Or they hand her over.” Rothgar growled.

Mir silently nodded. Rothgar turned to Helwyn and the two turned away from Mir to start conversing between themselves. Mir could catch snippets of it, but not much beyond the occasion keyword. “Drow, hurry, dangerous.” He couldn’t really argue against any of those.

“If we help you, will you come back north with us?” Rothgar asked.

“If we’re successful, yes.” Mir answered.

Helwyn looked at Rothgar and they shared a moment before Helwyn nodded. “Well bargained and done.”

“I need to get the rest of my armor and weapons and my horse,” Mir told them and neither objected. He quickly swung by the stables to pick up his destrier then to the inn to collect his things. He found a guardsman already inside beside his room but he didn’t impede Mir going in to collect his gear. As he shoved the contents of the room into his pack the thought flitted through his mind to just walk away. He could. Ride out, head north, and put it all behind him. Spiriel would be that drow he’d fucked that time before bailing on a town. He knew a lot of men in his position would skip out. Why not? Taking on a drow patrol? One that certainly had a sorceress of some kind with it? It was madness. Yet he found himself holding the sword he’d intended for Spiriel in his hand, looking it over. With a grunt he flicked it towards the floor, burying the point four inches into the timber.

With his full armor on and his weapons at his side he left the room. Tracking down the innkeeper, Mir threatened his life if he suspected anyone so much as touched the door to the room, much less took anything from it, before he, himself, left.

Outside he mounted up, finding Helwyn and Rothgar already waiting on a pair of stocky steeds. Mir whipped out the map he’d been given and pointed out the locations where the drow had been spotted. “They are trying to mix it up, bouncing from farm to farm, but they’re clearly moving from here,” he pointed at the hills where he’d found Spiriel, “towards the town. The last farm they raided was here,” he pointed to riverside homestead half a day’s walk from the city. “If I’m reading this right they’ll likely show up somewhere near here,” he said indicating a fork in the river. “There’s a bigger settlement here along with a bridge across the river. We can likely ambush them near there.”

When both northerners agreed, he turned his horse to the northwest and put the spurs to him.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Althea left the interrogation room just behind the guards that carried the young drow away. She was glad to be out of that room, and once past the threshold, she breathed a sigh of relief. She felt a little dirty all over, as if something unpleasant had rubbed off on her. It came as a surprise to her that it wasn't that she'd touched the drow girl, or even the mercenary that made her feel unclean. What surprised her was that it was her own role in the interrogation that bothered her.

She had to admit that she'd had her own prejudices going in. The thought of having anything to do with the drow repulsed her, and the idea that the human mercenary treated the black skinned creature as if she was an actual person was a special brand of insanity that she sincerely hoped wasn't contagious.

At least that's how she felt before.

She had almost gloated when she saw the look on Mir's face as he realized that she would learn everything they had to hide when she read the unconscious girl's thoughts and memories, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. None of his smutty lecherous fantasies could stop her, and he knew it. Oh how she had relished that look on his face!

But as she left the guard's headquarters and turned up the street towards the seamstress' shop, her thoughts were turned inward in guilt. She passed the townsfolk as she walked, lost in her own reflections. The drow girl was not the devil Althea had thought. In fact, she was really just a girl. "She is still young in her mind." had been the words she's used to describe Spiriel. But Althea wondered if the others listening in had really understood what she'd meant. She knew that the trancelike state she had to enter to scry a being's thoughts didn't always allow for her to express the thoughts she discovered very clearly. Sometimes a being's thoughts were convoluted, and then there was always the interpretation factor.

But in this case, she wasn't sure how else to describe it. The drow was physically young for her race; not far out of her adolescence really. To the humans, Althea knew that the longer lived races like the elves and drow were a mystery. The drow girl probably had seen no more than 50-60 years of life. To a human that would be an entire lifetime, but to an elf, or even a drow, it was barely entering adulthood. And to make the matter worse, the way her own kind had traumatized her when she was a child had permanently and profoundly affected her maturation. Spiriel was literally young and naive in her mind. She may have had the body of a young woman, but she had the innocence of a child in many ways.

And that was the source of the anxiety and shame that the elf was now feeling. It was one thing if she'd had a part in the downfall of a drow enemy who knew full well that they were a subversion of the natural laws of nature and society. But this person was just a girl, one who had been treated as cruelly by her own kind as they treated any other decent people. And now she was in the hands of the human guardsmen who were quick to make it clear that they would treat the girl just as badly if it suited their plans to do so.

Althea felt sick as she slipped into the seamstress shop, only to come face to face with her employer.

"So Althea, tell me everything. What did the guardsmen want with you."

++++++++++++++++

The guardsman watched the prone form of the black skinned girl through the bars of the narrow window in the door of the dungeon cell. She was still laying where he and his partner had dropped her on the dirty straw strewn floor. It was the fourth time he had peeked at her in the hour since he was posted to guard the prisoner. No longer afraid that she was a witch prepared to lay a dreadful curse on him, now his interest in her was more....prurient.

His partner noticed the look, and cleared his throat meaningfully. "Don't even think about it. You know what the Warden said. He wants her in good condition in case the mercenary fails, so he can turn her over to them Drow."

"Well, it ain't like I plan on hurting her...much. And besides, the Warden don't have to find out. Unless you got some interest in all of it? What're you, some kind of softy?"

"You'd do well to keep it in your pants. You never know what might happen to you."

"Aw, I ain't afraid of her now. She's no witch. You heard what the elf said: she was just a whore slave to them. She was meant to be used by anyone who wanted her; priests...worshippers...soldiers..." He let the last word hang in the air, full of meaning.

"You aren't too smart are you? Think about it. How many of those black peckers have dipped into that well do ye think? Sure, she might not lay a curse on you, but that isn't any guarantee that your dick won't fall off from something else. You might wish you was cursed before it was all over."

The lascivious guardsman glared at his partner, at a loss for words, but not convinced entirely. He grumbled under his breath and resumed his post.

It was less than five minutes before he was peeking at the half nude drow wench in the cell again. His partner just sighed an exasperated sigh.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Helwin reined in her shaggy horse a pace behind Rothgar and the mercenary, Mir. They had all been riding hard to reach the site of the bridge settlement where Mir suspected the Drow patrol would strike soon. She unstoppered the waterskin and took a deep draught to rinse away the dust of the road, then passed it to Rothgar. She watched as Mir satisfied his own thirst in turn, taking the measure of the man.

She and Rothgar had been watching him for some time before they contacted him of course. They had heard about him even before that. His reputation as a fighter was impressive. But seeing him in person, she wasn't convinced. Oh he was handsome, in his own way, she supposed. But he was not very impressive compared to Rothgar. She wondered how well he could fight. Would it be worth the risk they were taking to enlist his aid? She supposed they would soon find out.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Skyguy's post

Mir crouched in the narrow alleyway between two buildings. It was narrow, barely wide enough for him to fit through and even then he constantly brushed against the buildings on either side. Still, it afforded him a good view of the main street of the little town which was what he needed. He, Helwin, and Rothgar had all done their best to clear the town out, or at least get the people into their cellars before the drow showed up. It was equal parts concern for their safety and just wanting them out of the way as far as he was concerned.

The rain barrel in front of him wasn’t tight and left him standing in an inch of mud but it did hide him almost completely and would stop any projectiles that hit it, at least the first few. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing ever was. His bow was clutched in his hand with an arrow already notched. His ears perked up when he heard the steady jingle of metal armor approaching. He risked a peek around the corner of the building and caught sight of their quarry. A solid dozen drow, mostly warriors in armor but with two females in their midst. The females armor was more ornate than the workman-like armor of the males and it covered much less. Mir knew no magician himself, but he’d met more than a few users and the females armor marked them as such, leaving them free to move and cast their spells. He disliked killing women, but he knew these women would kill him in a heartbeat and they were only here to haul Spiriel back down into the Underdark to sacrifice her to their goddess.

If things worked out, Mir would get their attention then lead them on a merry chase through the village and right into an ambush with Rothgar and Helwin. The drow were typical elves, long, lean, and better off focusing on speed than strength. The two northerners were waiting in a tight little courtyard for him to bring drow back to them. In those small confines the drow’s speed and agility would be useless and the three mercenaries would be able to take them down. Burdened by heavy armor, fighting above ground, and tired after days of searching, Mir hoped it would be the edge they would need.

They’d been waiting for the drow, who’d been slow to show themselves. Time was getting short for Spiriel and Mir knew it.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Mir flopped back against the building after he closed Rothgar’s eyes for the final time. The big Northman had fought valiantly, holding back the five remaining drow warriors by himself while he and Helwin had finished off the other spellcaster. It had cost the man his life.

“Ughh!” he groaned as he settled onto the wooden planks of shop’s back porch.

“Let me look at that.” Helwin said as Mir complained. She was obviously making a point to not look at Rothgar’s body as she knelt over Mir.

Mir tried to brush her off. “It’s just a scratch.”

Helwin was having none of that though and ignored his protests as she took his leg by the knee and rotated it to expose the inside of his thigh. The last drow Mir had killed had been fast, faster than any of the others and he’d managed to get his sword inside Mir’s guard. The razor sharp steel had found the inside of his thigh where he was only protected by thick leather. Mir had managed to stop him before the sword had found his artery and left him laying beside Rothgar but it had still gone through much of the meat and was bleeding profusely.

“A inch deeper and he would have severed your artery.” Helwin said as she mopped up the blood with a rag. She ignored Mir’s protests completely, pulling out a canteen and washing away the rest of the blood before pulling out another and dumping the contents over Mir’s leg.

“Shit!” He yelped as the alcohol burned.

“Drow love to cover their blades in poisons.” she explained as she wiped off the alcohol then poured on another dose, holding Mir’s leg still. “We need to clean this well and watch you carefully.” While Mir studied her Helwin got a small pouch off her belt and set it beside him. Rummaging around in it, she pulled out a small pouch and scooped some of the contents of it out, a mash of leaves and oils, before she pushed it into the wound. “This will pull out any poisons on the blade and help the wound heal.” Mir grimaced but endured, letting her treat him as she pulled out the next thing, a needle and thread.

“I’m sorry about Rothgar.”

“Rothgar did what he had to.” Helwin replied as she began to stitch the gash up. “If he hadn’t we couldn’t have killed the witch.”

Mir nodded, letting her work.

“I don’t know why you did it, but thank you for helping.”

It was Helwin’s turn to nod. “You’re needed, and it was our task to fetch you.” She finished her stitches and pulled the twine tight, sealing the wound. She quickly had it wrapped in a bandage.

Mir tried to stand up but when he tried to walk the pain in his leg left him hobbling. “I need to get back to the warden. I’ve got to get Spiriel out of there.”

“The drow girl?” Helwin clarified.

“Yeah, if I don’t get back he’s going to sell her off or give her to his men or something.” Mir explained. He’d given Helwin and Rothgar some of the background on them but he’d left off many of the details.

“If you ride out of here with your leg like that you’ll open the wound.” Helwin chided him. “You’ll likely lose it without giving it some time to start healing.”

“I can’t just leave Spiriel alone.” Mir snapped with vehemence that surprised him. “If something happens to her I don’t go north.”

Helwin glanced at Rothgar’s body for the first time since Mir had closed his eyes then back to Mir. Her own eyes were narrow and her expression hard. “Then I’ll go back with proof and get your slave girl. Get the villagers to bring you back tomorrow, in a cart.”

“Cart my ass.” Mir sneered.

“Ride a horse and lose the leg.” Helwin snapped and Mir shut up. “Make sure his body is burned on a pyre.” Helwin ordered as she took up Rothgar’s axe and used it to behead the caster laying nearby, picking up the head and stuffing it in a bag. “In a cart.” she ordered him as she stalked off. “If you show up on a horse I’ll kill you myself.”

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Skyguy's post

The next morning Mir found himself in the back of a cart being pulled back towards town. The villagers had been grateful for their help but after he promised them the drow’s armor they had turned downright enthusiastic. Rothgar’s body had been burned on a funeral pyre like Helwin had demanded. Mir had gone a step farther and had the drow piled up and burned around him. He didn’t really know how northern funeral rights went but if he was going to be burned on a pyre having the bodies of his slain foes used to feed the fire seemed fitting.

They’d given him a bed for the night and a couple of the comelier girls in the village had wanted to express their thanks physically but for the first time he could remember Mir turned a pretty girl looking to warm his bed down. Concerns for Spiriel clouded his mind and he only wanted her in his arms as quickly as possible.

So now he was in the back of the cart, heading towards town as slow as the farmer's stupid donkey could pull it, which was just above a walking pace. His own horse was following along behind with his bridle looped around the back post of the cart. The truly valuable things, the witch’s armor, and the warrior's weapons were in a pile beside him along with anything that looked valuable from them. Mir was concerned, but he was still a mercenary. He wasn’t sure what he’d find when he got back to the town but his threat to the warden hadn’t been idle. If Spiriel wasn’t returned to him unharmed he’d take it out of every man in the guard’s skin.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Spiriel climbed from the grey, nondescript depths of oblivion to the feeling of cold hardness under her face. She struggled to recall the last thing she could remember, but the hazy vague images and sensations only confused her. Nothing made any sense. She vaguely remembered trying to answer the questions of the warden, then being dragged away. Confusing impressions of more guardsmen, Mir, and a golden haired elf woman, then the sharp pain of a clout to her head came back to her.

Memories of long past events stirred amidst the throbbing pain in her head, dredged up by the elf's mental probing, but for Spiriel, there was no explanation of why she should be remembering those things now. She only knew they frightened her and awakened the terrors she'd thought she had buried.

In Spiriel's fogged consciousness, words came to her dimly; words spoken by a nearby voice, a heavy one, somewhat gruff, deeper, a male. "I bet you're a tight 'un. Probably squirm like a fish on a hook. Yeah, I bet you'd feel just as good as any little cunt on the inside." Some part of her brain recorded the words as vocal sounds her ears had heard, but in her coma-like state, none of them registered. Later, when she awoke, she would recall them as if remnants of a dream, unsure if they were real or not.

She stirred slightly as she was rolled over, her limbs cramping under her. She offered no resistance, lying passively. She merely moaned quietly, still groggy, but slowly swimming back through the dark void of senselessness to the surface of her consciousness.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, and she swallowed the dryness in her throat, wanting so badly to wet her lips, but her tongue wouldn't yet respond. From a distance, someone spoke to her again. "The warden says you gotta be fed. He thinks that mercenary is comin' back after ye. Says we gotta keep you in good shape." Someone was shaking her none too gently. She began to sense more of her surroundings, rising to greater awareness, but still not fully awake.

“Wake up and eat, you little black bitch.” The shaking was getting annoying now, making her head ache and throb painfully.

“Wake up or go hungry!” That gruff voice again, urging her back out of the void. There was a tug as her bonds were cut, and suddenly her wrists were free. Her eyelids fluttered again, finally opening, blinking. She turned towards that voice, gazing in confusion up at the face of the guardsman standing over her, nudging her with his boot. Then in a flash, memories flooded back to her; shouting, accusations, an elf woman waiting to kill her! She started suddenly, her eyes widening in fear. She shied back away from the imposing figure.

"Don't hurt me!" she mumbled, or thought she did. But her words came out all wrong. It dawned on her that she spoke in Drow, her own language. The guardsman probably wouldn't understand. Spiriel thought he must be standing over her to cut her throat! She looked around desperately for any way to escape, and then spotted the tin dish of unappetizing food on the floor next to where her head had just laid. Her gaze locked on it for a long moment before understanding dawned, then drifted up to meet those hard eyes of the guardsman before he turned and left the cell, closing the door with a loud metallic slam.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

She was lost in sea of unhappiness. This is what her great escape from the Underdark had come to; locked in a big metal cage, dark and dank, and bad smelling. Her warrior, Mir, had not come back for her after that first day, though she'd waited long into the night. Perhaps the guardsmen had killed him, she thought. Or maybe he just went away and left her with these men that alternately stared at her with hatred and disgust, or leered at her body with undisguised lust. Either way, there seemed little to hope for as to her own fate.

She was miserable here. The food was barely fit for an animal to eat, and the water was brackish and tepid. Her fine white outfit that Mir had bought for her had been torn by the guards. The belt that was meant to hold the outfit together had been ripped. Now the long cloth from the back of the garment that was meant to pass between her legs and tuck up under the belt, only to drape down again in front to form a sort of loin cloth/skirt was instead tucked through the little thong that Mir had given her to carry her dagger with. It managed to cover her, but was ill fitting and allowed the cloth to gape when her legs were not carefully kept together. The off-the-shoulder-tunic styled top was never meant to be concealing. Rather, it was intended to show off her modest bosom to greater effect, and had somewhat of a push-up function meant to deepen her cleavage. The snow white cloth had become dull and dingy from the dirty conditions in her cell, but it still offered enticing glimpses of her body, a fact not lost on the leering guardsman.

She tried to find escape in sleep most of the time. She ate very little, and she could feel herself getting weak. After waiting late into the night for Mir to come back, she began to lose hope. After all, what was she to him? He didn't really need her help, and now that her presence had cost him trouble with the guardsmen, she could hardly blame him for leaving. She didn't know what the Warden would do with her, but she had little hope that it would be anything good. She'd even heard the guards mention the drow patrol, and the possibility that she would be turned over to them.

As she turned her gaze away from the leering grin that greeted her through the small window in the cell door, Spiriel's heart was heavy in her chest. Slowly, she lay down on the small hard wood cot and turned to face the wall, closing her eyes as the tears came again.