[b][u][center]A Study of Connections Part 1 For a-lycotonum By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Sister Hazel Akiras had a long, ‘ardent’ journey from the city of Absalom to the region of Varisia, and despite her wishes to the contrary, ardent was the right word rather than arduous. There were plenty of folk that were willing to make the journey easier, after all, at the cost of certain…embarrassments. The young half-elf was still blushing from what she had ended up doing during her journey, and she wondered, on some level, if she would ever be able to forget the things that she had ended up doing. Even now, as she rode through the outskirts of the town that had sprung up around the great temple that she’d been bound for over the course of weeks, she wondered if there was any forgiveness for someone like her. The teachings said that their god, Erastil, was one that would welcome and forgive anyone that was truly penitent, but for all that, Hazel wondered if she could really be said to be truly penitent after she had…after she had done so many different things… The half-elf gritted her teeth as she felt her sex clench again, the end of her heat still upon her. The curse of the Demon Lord was still down there, still warm and heated against her, and it still desired…sustenance. [i]No. We are in holy land now. We can be safe here. I…I don’t need that…[/i] Not after the last night, at least. She had left the campfire and had gone for a walk. After all, there was no need for a cleric of Erastil – even one that had yet to be fully, officially anointed as such – to fear the woods and the animals within. Her guards had remained behind, and she had allowed herself some quiet and satisfaction beneath the moon. Or at least, that had been the plan. The memory of the wolf that had come upon her, feral and wild, and had been tamed by…by mounting her… She shivered, still remembering how its knot had felt inside of her, how satisfying it had been. She had been helpless against her own urges, unable to deny the wolf what it wanted, and she could still feel it in her memories. The sense of that long, tapered cock, the knot slapping against her…different anatomy… The urge to touch herself came, too, but that one she managed to ignore. She would not humiliate herself further than she already had been. [i]And besides, people are watching.[/i] The Grand Temple of Erastil loomed before her in the distance, a great structure that combined the trees of the region with the structures of man and elf. The branches were encouraged to grow in domes rather than lines, forming leafy rooftops that interwove with each other to the point where rain could no longer reach the ground. Animals leaped to and fro from the trees to the clay walls of the building, raised from the ground by clerics of ancient times, and vines and moss formed curtains for the windows that were dug out of the walls by the beasts. It was the epitome of a church that was designed to bring nature and nurture together, to blend man and beast, to create a family. And it was that that made her wonder how much of a connection there was between Erastil and Melchiresa, the Demon Lord that had corrupted her. Hazel shook her head, putting her thoughts to the side for the moment. There were other things that needed her focus. Things like the people that wandered about the small town around her. They lived in the town and often were fascinated with the visitors that came from different lands, and even though Hazel was hardly as interesting as some of the visitors that came through, she knew that she would attract attention. She shuffled her white dress a bit, making it run down her legs properly, and put on a smile for the villagers. They were almost all human, though with a few elves here and there, and halflings that poked their heads out of the alleys when they thought she wasn’t looking. She knew a handful of them from her time here as an early novice, but most of them were far older than she remembered. [i]Half-elf,[/i] she reminded herself, and hid a sigh. The men and women would have aged faster than her. As she looked into the short, squat houses of clay and stone that had sprung up around the temple, she saw that the old book-keeper that she’d borrowed books on herbs from had turned gray-haired and feeble, barely able to stand with his cane. She saw that a baker woman who had been raising children in their teens had retired, and her daughter was running the bakery now. Time had marched on, and she was left standing still. It was as hard a blow as ever, more so, in some ways, considering the fact that she had been away for almost a decade from the temple proper. The only ones that were the same were the elves, but with them, it was bad in a different way. She saw that they were exactly the same, unchanging, while she had changed more than she wanted to admit. She saw the healer that walked down the same path, almost in exactly the same footprints. She saw the archer walking down the road, waving off pests and making the same motions with his bow and arrow as ever. They were the same, and she had changed. Hazel sighed, rubbing the back of her head as she kept up the slow ride into town, trying to keep herself from thinking about the halfway place she occupied. She was neither human, nor elf, and it would be hard for her to fit in anywhere. One of her guards patted her shoulder, and she looked up at the young man. “We’re almost there. There was a message while you were away from the campfire, ma’am.” “What? What was it?” she asked. “A council of priests has been assembled to hear your news properly, including High Priest Tristan Drust.” “Tristan – the child?” “He’s in his thirties now, Sister.” Thirties. She shook her head. She knew that she looked to be in her twenties, but she was more than that. Not as aged as a full elf, by any means, but enough to remember seeing him as someone much younger than that. Hazel sighed, rubbing her forehead as she pushed some of those memories out of her mind. It was not suitable for her to be indulging in self-pity. She needed to be focused. “Thank you. They’re ready to meet, then?” “As soon as we arrive.” “Well, then. Let’s pick up the pace.” For her, this would be akin to confession. She needed this, and she hoped that she would feel better after baring her heart to the priests. The love of Erastil and his followers had always sustained the half-elf in the past. She hoped that, at least, had not changed. # The moment that the council heard from her lips that Melchiresa was involved, the atmosphere in the council room changed. Hazel had never felt uncomfortable in the chamber before. During the grand meetings meant to communicate the state of the church to all its followers, the High Priest of the region and his followers dedicated themselves to making the rounded chamber feel warm and happy for all those inside. The meetings were always held at high noon, when the sun shone through the leaves and the room was bright and cheerful, where the only shadows were those of squirrels dancing past candles in the upper levels of the multi-tiered chamber. With that name, however, the feeling changed. The room felt cold, austere, and the priests distant as the Demon Lord’s name echoed in the air. She saw the eyes of many priests widen, their stares no longer understanding, but judging, wondering what must have happened to invite a Demon Lord to strike so directly. Worse, she saw the way that they looked at her. Standing in the center of the room, she attracted their stares anyway, but now, it was like there was nothing else in the world that fascinated them more than she did. Hazel clenched her hands into fists at her sides, trying to ignore the way that her gown – a gown, not a robe, as would have befitted her better – had a more sweeping neckline than the sort of thing that she’d normally wear. How it clung to her hips more than her robe would have. How it showed her off in a way that was still decent but no longer…proper. They were judging, and they were probably right. [i]I’m not…I’m better…somewhat…somewhat better.[/i] Ignoring the clench between her legs, she looked up at the High Priest. Tristan Drust, someone that she had barely known before her departure from the temple, and someone that had risen quite a ways since her time here. He looked back, blond hair hiding one eye, his robes marked with brown and gold marks along the sleeves and down the hem as he gestured for her to continue. She did with a deep breath. “Having corrupted a teacher in the Arcanamirium, Melchiresa began the process of creating a pack of hellhounds within the university, with the ostensible goal of corrupting the entire academy from the inside-out once the pack was large enough to overwhelm the rest of the facility.” “And how did you come to be aware of this?” Tristan asked from his place in one of the higher balconies. “I was approached by the first member of the pack, a man named Vitus.” Several priests looked at each other due to her explanation, but they didn’t say anything to her. Instead, they saw fit to mutter to each other, talking to one another. Doubtlessly, the report that had been sent to the church ahead of her had been read, but there was a certain amount of information that had been redacted from it for the privacy of the academy. There was a great deal more to be said besides that. “He came to me asking for help after he had been corrupted, and his memory taken from him. He did not remember how such a curse had come to be, and at the time, I could not identify which demon had caused the problem.” “And what was the particular curse that he had at that point in time?” one of the other priests asked. “It was…intimate in nature.” “We are free to speak of intimate things here, Sister Hazel,” the priest said. “Tell us what it was.” “…His…penis…was cursed to the shape of a hound’s, sir.” There was a blush on the face of the priest, and Hazel took a small amount of satisfaction knowing that she had been able to make one of her ‘superiors’ blush a bit. Still, she understood the discomfort. They were talking about something that had been forced on another member of society, and that was a reminder that the demons were out there, ready and willing to prey on any vice, any man that might cross their path. Even the holy ones were not safe, as her story would reveal. “He did not use it on me,” she said. [i]Not yet, at least.[/i] “But he did ask me if there was a possibility of fixing it, if there was a way of finding how it had happened. As the only member of the clergy that he was willing to approach, I offered my aid to him. “I do not know why he didn’t speak to another member of Erastil’s clergy, but we continued to spend time together after that. We learned in tandem with one another the differences between the various types of demons, what they wanted, how they worked, and how their magic interacted with human beings. However, it was not until we learned of the hellhounds that we started to discover the truth behind this. “We discovered the other titles that the Demon Lord Melchiresa is known by, and one of them was the Pack-Mistress, a womanly figure that births hounds into the world to hunt that which matters to their mother. After that, it took very little time to verify who had corrupted Vitus, or at least, who had provided the power for it.” “And how did you remain uncorrupted?” the priest that had asked her about Vitus’s affliction asked. “We all know that those touched by demons are not capable of restraining themselves. How did you remain untouched by the curse?” “…I did not, your grace.” The gasps echoed through the room, and her cheeks burned in humiliation. Hazel clenched her fists again, mentally revising some of the latter parts of her account. She had been hoping to come here and speak of what had happened, candidly, and receive the forgiveness and understanding of her fellow followers of Erastil. However… Well, it was clear that they weren’t planning on being understanding. Glancing at the High Priest, she saw him looking her right in the eye for a split second before looking away. That…that might be her only chance for a bit of help. She would have to talk to Tristan when this was done. “In short, I was affected by the corruption of the Demon Lord Melchiresa, and there were a few hours when I was affected more strongly than was…seemly,” she admitted. “However, the corruption was later purged.” Mostly. Mostly. There was still the fact that she had dog anatomy between her legs, and that there were urges to be with dogs in a more intimate way, but Hazel was doing her best to ignore that shame right at that point. She was just thankful that, with as many canines that she had laid with during the journey, that she was not pregnant. That was something that she did not need to explain to the church right then and there. “In the end, I was able to purge the corruption – for the most part – from Vitus, and together, we managed to banish Melchiresa from the Arcanamirium, allowing for it to be restored. The agent of the Demon Lord was dealt with, and the status quo was restored.” “And that was the end of it?” Tristan asked, silencing the more offensive priest with a stare. “As far as I know, it was the end of it. The Arcanamirium worked with our local priesthood to silence most of the rumors, and that was the extent of it.” “…We will have to confer with more of our officials in Absalom,” Tristan said. “Obviously, there are greater things happening if the movements of Demon Lords are becoming so obvious these days.” She nodded. If he knew how much more was happening… Hazel put that thought to the side. She might talk with him more directly about the other effects of the corruption in short order, but not in front of the rest of the council. They were already looking at her with suspicion, obviously not believing her story about purging the corruption, and she would not have been surprised if they didn’t believe her regarding this being done by Melchiresa, either. After all, Demon Lords did not involve themselves in things directly very often. They were far more likely to work behind the scenes. Yes, their plans had grand ambitions, and they were far more likely than devils to act directly when there was need for it, but they were not the sort to risk something like Melchiresa had. It had effectively guaranteed that everyone in Absalom would be on watch for anything involving the Pack-Mistress from now on. “Is there anything else, Sister Hazel?” the high priest asked. “Nothing further on this case, High Priest Tristan,” she muttered. “And on other things?” “…Perhaps. There have been a few…academic interests that I would like to discuss when there is time.” “I see.” There was a slight flicker in his eyes, a moment of curiosity, but to her immense gratitude, he didn’t ask her in front of the other priests. Instead, the High Priest raised his arms, gesturing towards the heavens. “Then I declare this council closed. If there are any that wish to talk further with our Sister, then you may schedule time with her to do that. For now, allow us all to go our own ways. We will meet again in due time.” “In due time,” Hazel muttered in time with the rest of the priesthood. Those that stood on the balconies turned to leave through the stairs connected to their raised areas, and those that stood against the walls on her level just turned and left. She was left alone, staring down at the floor as she tried to calm herself. Of all the things that she expected from coming home, this level of judgment and disbelief was not among them. She had expected surprise, yes, but to have them stare at her as if she was still a rank novice among them after being a crucial part of banishing a demon – a Demon Lord, for that matter – left a bad taste in her mouth. Pride was not necessarily a teaching of Erastil, but it wasn’t something to be berated for having. [i]And it’s not like I haven’t tried to be better…[/i] She shook her head. It was better not to dwell on those things. Hazel had no proof that such thoughts weren’t demonic in nature, and considering the corruption that remained in her, she doubted that it was entirely a good idea to indulge in them for the moment. Shaking her head once more, she banished them from her mind, turning to leave the main floor of the council chambers. After all, she had another purpose for returning. There were records here that were not present in any other temple to Erastil, and she had theories that she wanted to check. When she had been under the corruption of Melchiresa, before she had been able to purge most of it from herself, she had noticed that there were…similarities between her god and the Demon Lord, at least on the surface level. Of course, there were places where they differed, but the similarities were too striking for her to just ignore. [i]The fact that they both place such emphasis on family…[/i] Hazel shook her head, idly hooking her hair behind her pointed ears as she walked through the halls of the temple. Her gown flared behind her repeatedly as she walked along, her mind sliding back to those moments when Melchiresa had pushed the power of the Pack into her mind. Pack. Pack. Pack. Everything was about the Pack. [i]And it’s different to the teachings of family here,[/i] she thought. [i]For us, for Erastil, you look after your family. You are devoted to your family. But that is still closer to blood, even with the flexibility in the rules. Pack…Pack is something more. Something tighter. Something closer.[/i] And, as much as it pained her to admit it, it was something that was almost better. She could remember the feeling of belonging that had come with the corruption, the way that it had offered her an acceptance despite her failures that far outstripped what the church here was willing to offer. The judgment in the eyes of everyone but High Priest Tristan had shown her what she had come home to. One failure, one slip, one not-even-fuck-up and she had gone from a member of the family to a pariah, at best. But if she’d gone with the Pack… Hazel almost slipped down the path of temptation, but she caught herself before she could. There were many things that the Pack might offer, but it would come with the cost of her soul, and possibly with the cost of her body. She could still remember the corruption that had started, and that Vitus had pushed to begin again. She remembered the hunger, the need that she felt as a…as a bitch. [i]I can’t let that happen again. I can’t.[/i] Even if the Pack would let her back, wouldn’t judge her. They’d even welcome her, probably giving her more than she had here. Hazel bit her tongue, and the pain snapped her back. [i]Library. Now.[/i] # Once she was in the library, her memories of the time in the Pack started to drop away, and her memories of her time here started to take precedence. There were places that she remembered, aisles of books that were old friends. Hazel remembered the librarian, and the librarian remembered her, a rare pair of half-elves that were friends and could measure time in the same way. She talked with Sparrow for a few moments, the pair of them exchanging happy memories, before she was told that the books on Erastil’s teachings of family were where they always had been. She followed the curving lines of bookshelves to the appropriate section, and began perusing the shelves. The half-elf had only gotten a few rows in when she realized something. [i]It’s all…it’s all the same,[/i] she thought, running her fingers along the spines. [i]Isn’t there anything more in-depth?[/i] But no. Every book had the same sort of base topic. Every single book covered the same material that was taught in every early sermon that members of the church heard. Erastil’s love for the family was infinite, and one must give the same protective, caring, guiding love to ones within the family circle. [i]But what about the studies? What about the comparisons between him and others? What about –[/i] “Sister.” Hazel froze, slowly looking over her shoulder. It was Tristan Drust, though no longer in his ceremonial robes. Instead, he wore more comfortable brown and white robes that fit more naturally with the wooden colors all around the library. She took a deep breath, bowing her head. “High Priest.” “Sister Hazel.” He nodded. “You said that you had several…academic interests that you would like to discuss when there was time.” “Yes, High Priest. That is true.” “It appears that we both have time now. What is on your mind?” “…” “Please, speak. We are alone.” In other words, the usual handlers and hangers-on that the High Priest had following him all the time weren’t around. It was a rare opportunity, to be sure, and one that she hoped would prove fruitful. She hesitated for a moment longer, looking around the human before looking him in the eye again. “I believe that there is a connection between our god and the Demon Lord Melchiresa.” She waited for the laughter or the condemnation. For all that she had been the only one in recent memory to experience a demon of Melchiresa’s power, she imagined that Tristan would be quick to condemn her, or worse, once he heard that. Hazel waited, fingers twitching with a spell at the ready if he tried to restrain her. Instead, the High Priest arched an eyebrow. That was all. She took it as permission to keep talking. “When I was…changed, I could hear her.” “You could [i]hear[/i] the voice of a Demon Lord?” “…Yes. It was not that different from when we pray to Erastil and he consents to answer us. She was…more talkative, admittedly, but…it wasn’t that different.” “…Go on.” “They have similar beliefs to us. At least, so far as protecting what matters to you. They define family as Pack, and it doesn’t stop there.” “This would be heresy, Sister Hazel.” “Only if it’s wrong.” “Even if it’s right.” Yet, he hadn’t told her whether she was wrong or right. If anything, he stared at her, not quite condemning, but not quite blessing, either. He gritted his teeth, lifting his hand. His fingers flicked up and down, and a flicker of white light danced from the digits. A hum filled her ears, and she realized that he had cast a zone of silence, keeping their words from going anywhere else. “You believe me,” she whispered. “I have…reason to believe that you might be right,” the High Priest corrected her. “But that isn’t the same thing.” “It’s better than what the others are doing. Why didn’t you –” “I’m new to the role, Hazel. I can’t make any obvious moves against the more…conservative members of the church.” “…Politics, then.” “Yes, something like that. Regardless…” He looked back and forth, waiting for someone to pass at the far end of the aisle before speaking again. “Do you believe that this is the truth, then? That there is a connection between Erastil and a Demon Lord?” “I do.” “Then I have a task for you.” “Private, I assume?” “You catch on quickly. Yes. Private as can be, between you and I, and no other.” She nodded. That was to be expected for something that was this close to the edge of heresy. Even thinking that the Lord of the Hearth could be even tangentially related to a Demon Lord would get them both in trouble, she realized. She had hoped that they would be more open-minded, but she had guessed wrong. Tristan gestured her closer, and she leaned in as he whispered. “There are new guests coming for the Great Festival tomorrow, guests that have never been allowed here before. They might have some insight into whatever connections might exist.” “What guests are these? Excommunicated members? Faithful of a war god?” “Neither. They are…hobgoblins.” Hazel’s eyes widened. “Not the warmongering kind, obviously, but they are still going to present…difficulties, for the more conservative members of the church. I have been pushing all year for the chance for species other than our civilized sort to attend; after all, if orcs and their brethren are allowed, then it stands to reason that not all of the monstrous species should be disallowed.” “You are treading close to heresy yourself.” “I know. Which is why it has to go as well as can be. I need someone to keep an eye on them, and while you’re doing that, you can question them about what they know. You can kill two birds with one stone.” “Why would they know anything?” “Because they are only recent converts. I converted their tribe myself. Until they were willing to try worshiping Erastil, they worshiped someone that they were only willing to call the Lady of the Hunt.” “…Melchiresa…” “Most likely. They were willing to shift to Erastil, but perhaps a little too easily. You might be right about there being a connection, after all.” The Great Festival, and hobgoblins. Until Tristan mentioned them, she had almost forgotten about the Great Festival and how it had always gone. The temple held the festival every year, a gathering of the faithful and those that were friendly to them, and for a week, they spent time dancing, playing games, and holding great tournaments that were meant to accomplish one thing and one thing only: to encourage pairings to make families. The power of Erastil would be thick in the air, and it would create an atmosphere that encouraged people to start coming together, to care for each other, and to, well, do what couples did. They had never had anyone beyond the ‘civilized’ species there before, and even the orcs had only started coming a year or two before her departure. The fact that Tristan had opened it up further meant that he had probably expended most of his sway with the holdouts in the church that wanted it to go back to human-only. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to stir the pot any further than he already had. Still…hobgoblins. They were bigger than goblins, and stronger, too. They were not known for being kind, but then again, neither were many species out there, even her own. That said, hobgoblins were known for raiding many different settlements, and she knew for a fact that the village around the temple had been hit by different hobgoblin clans more than once. [i]But they worshiped Melchiresa, and then changed their minds…[/i] That meant that they had intimate knowledge of the Demon Lord that few others would be able to match, particularly anyone that had guided them down that path before. If she could talk to them, then she would probably learn far more than any books might have told her. “Will you watch them for me?” the High Priest asked. “…If you’ll answer a question for me,” she said. “Ask it, then.” “Why do you believe me? Besides all of this…why do you believe me?” “Because it wasn’t humans or elves that pushed me to become High Priest,” he muttered. “Who?” “That wasn’t part of the question. Do I have your agreement?” “Yes, of course, but –” “Then go to your quarters and prepare. I will introduce you to them on the morrow, before the official beginning of the Festival.” Tristan turned and left her with no further ado, and she was left staring after him as he walked down the aisles of books. The half-elf blinked in surprise at his sudden departure, wondering if she’d said something that had particularly offended him to make him leave so suddenly. After all, they had been hidden under a dome of silence, and there hadn’t been any of his attendants to hear their ‘heresy’. What had changed? Her question must have been the catalyst to the sudden departure. She didn’t like the idea of having chased him off like that, but she knew better than to push now. For all that she wanted to help, just as she had done in Absalom, her experiences in the Arcanamirium had taught her the value of discretion, and she knew better now. Some people needed space, while others needed to have it taken from them. Hazel shook her head. At the very least, she had an in, now. She could find out if there was a connection, and if there was… If there was, perhaps she could find out why nobody had been able to heal the last of her corruption, and Vitus’s too. It should have been removed by the priests down south, but no matter what was done, neither his dog dick nor her dog pussy could be taken away. It was as if they were cursed by something more powerful than the godly magic could remove. Or something too similar to it, for that matter. That was her other concern. If Melchiresa was that well-connected to the power of Erastil, then it was possible that this truly was permanent. And in that case… She felt the stirring of lust, and she knew that she had to leave. She hurried down the halls of the library, past the woman at the front, and towards the guest quarters. If she did not find isolation soon, temptation would strike, and she didn’t know if she could get a dog to privacy fast enough in this place. [i]I have to figure out how to fix this, and fast…[/i] [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b] Summary: Hazel returns to the Grand Church of Erastil, both to report what has happened and continue her research into the potential links between Erastil and Melchiresa. However, she finds both obstacles and allies, as well as a surprise for the upcoming Festival. Tags: F/solo, F/M, off-screen bestiality, dog cock, dog pussy, corruption, church, cleric, D&D, series, judgment, fantasy, magic,