[b][u][center]A Study of Connections
Part 4
For a-lycotonum
By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]








Hazel was, admittedly, still a bit dizzy from the fast-paced conversation with the seer of the hobgoblin clan, but as she headed off the first threat – the baker with the brick – she was the first to admit that it had been a useful chat. She had managed to get between the baker and the hobgoblins with ease, and she was gently encouraging him to put the brick down. Well, mostly gently; he was wincing as she held her finger to the nerve just under his wrist. 

“They’re our guests,” Hazel said, slowly pushing his hand down as he kept wincing. “You need to treat them like such.”

“Mmmph…they’re monsters…and you know it…”

“They’ve been invited by the high priest. You can handle that for a few days, at the very least.”

“Hmmph…”

“Are you saying that you’d prefer to be a death martyr to being uncomfortable for a few days?”

“…”

“Brick. Down.”

He finally put it down on the edge of his property, setting it down as if he was just propping up the steps leading to the bakery’s door with the little thing. She nodded, hustling back to the hobgoblins and taking her place beside Vakrozad again. The big orc chuckled, his face shining in the low torchlight that lit up the town for the evening festival. 

“Heh, and here I thought that you were going to hit him.”

“I don’t hurt people,” Hazel said. 

“Sometimes you gotta, guard dog. Otherwise, they just hurt you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Heh, then you’re pretty bad at your job. Good thing you got people like us to do the hitting, then.”

Hazel shook her head, not sure that she liked that idea. The church of Erastil had stood for a long time, and for the entirety of its existence, it had pushed the idea that violence was seldom needed, that all problems could be solved if only people would calm down and talk them through. 

Yet, they still had paladins. They still had war-taught clerics. They had forces that could fight, even though they said that they shouldn’t need to. 

It wasn’t a thought that she liked to come back to. Every time that she thought about the semi-hypocrisy of it, she wondered if the teaching was something that had been written down as a hope, or as someone that honestly didn’t know how the world worked. She remembered the demons at the Arcanamirium, and she winced. 

[i]People should be able to talk things out…but what about when they just choose not to?[/i]

That was when you needed people to protect you, and even Hazel realized that. The teachings were just…idealistic, she hoped, rather than just naïve. 

She forced herself to pay attention to the village again, knowing better than to stay in her head for too long. Mol had seen a few other obstacles on the way to the temple, and considering that she’d been out of it for at least a minute, she knew another one would be – 

There. One of the young girls that was starting to walk down the street had turned her attention towards the hobgoblins. She had started swaying her hips in a very attractive manner, at least for males, and according to Mol, the human girl was under orders from her father to get a hobgoblin as eager and excited as possible, only to turn them down, hoping to start a fight. Hazel darted to the other side of the group, heading the young, newly-adult woman off. 

“Ah. You may have a turn at the dance,” Hazel said, smiling slightly. 

“But…but…”

“No, dear. Not yet.”

She turned the human around, sending her back to her house. The half-elf watched for a moment or two to make sure that the little seducer wasn’t going to turn around and cause trouble, then rejoined Vakrozad again, shaking her head. 

“Heh, seems like there’s all sorts of problems here,” he said. 

“There’s not. Usually.”

“That’s because you’re too used to being on your own.”

“That’s not it. They’re usually good people.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s easy to be good to people like you.”

“…”

“Hey, just saying.”

She hated that he was right was more the problem. The village seldom saw visitors that weren’t humans, elves, or half-elves. Even dwarves and gnomes weren’t common, and now that she thought about it, they did tend to be treated less well than the others. 

[i]…We’re not that bad, are we?[/i]

She shook her head. It was not the time, and there were other obstacles to be dealt with on the way to the temple. Including the archer. Mol had said that there was going to be an ‘accidental’ shot to the birds flying over the village, with the bird falling and spilling its guts on the hobgoblins. Considering the flock was already nearly overhead, she imagined that was going to happen soon. 

[i]Lovely…[/i]

#

After herding off four other ‘suitors’ that were there to get the hobgoblins in trouble as well as any number of mini-aggressions that were meant to start a fight, they finally reached the temple proper. A square had been cleared off to the side, the ground flattened and covered with stone for the dance proper. The priests, dressed in their green and white robes, were spread out along the edge of one side, and the villagers, normally forming a circle around the other sides, had formed a large crowd on another part of the square. 

The move deliberately excluded the hobgoblins from either of the other groups, but Hazel didn’t have much that she could do about that. Instead, she guided them forward, apologized, and rejoined the priests. Tristan looked down at her, giving her a querying glance out of the corner of his eye. 

[i]Everything okay?[/i] was the obvious question. She shook her head, but slightly, making sure that it was clear that things weren’t great, but there wasn’t much that they could do. 

Tristan nodded, turning back to the two separate crowds. 

“Flock of Erastil, followers of the values of family and care. Welcome to all of you this evening,” he said, bowing his head. “As high priest, it is my privilege to introduce the visitors to our settlement. Most of you have been informed as to what is going on, but for those that have yet to hear, allow me to explain.

“Chief Vakrozad has come here with questions, and more than that, interest in our religion. As high priest, I took it upon myself to invite him here, to take part in our yearly festival.”

The gasps that filled the air were hardly surprising. From what Tristan had told her, the villagers might have been somewhat informed, but she doubted that they had taken it well. Those that believed him probably thought that it was a mistake, that the hobgoblins were just using this as a chance to get close and raid, while those that hadn’t believed him had just gotten a rude awakening. 

The teachings of Erastil told one to offer kindness and hearth to those that were in need of it, and as far as Hazel was concerned, the hobgoblins needed it more than most of the civilized people that came to them. Wildlings, at best, they had been in the woods and the badlands for longer than some of the villagers had been alive. They had never had a moment’s peace. 

And now, they were trying. They were genuinely trying. What was wrong with offering them the chance to be better?

[i]They don’t want the monsters to be better; they want them to stay monsters,[/i] she supposed. 

The gasping and whispering came to an end as Tristan continued. 

“They are here to take part in the festivities, and as you can see, they have come unarmed. That is correct, Chief?” he asked. 

“Yeah, no weapons here,” Vakrozad said with a shake of his head. “Feels like I might as well have come naked, but, heh, that might’ve scared some of your ladies even more. Like that fine-legged elf girl up there,” he added with a wink. 

Fine-legged – Hazel whipped her head around, blushing as she realized that Sister Oakhoof was standing on Tristan’s other side. Her cheeks could not have been more red, and neither could the elf’s. 

[i]Oh, great. Flirting with THE high conservative around the place…[/i]

Hazel stood up straight again, pretending that she’d never turned to see what was going on, never heard what Vakrozad had said. Yet, at the same time…she had to admit that the idea of the big hobgoblin flashing that woman was one of the funniest things that she’d imagined in a long, long time. 

Biting off her laughter as the rest of the crowd actually seemed to relax from the comment, Hazel listened as Tristan continued. 

“Be that as it may, the dance is about to begin. All of you know what the meaning of the festival is. Tonight is the night where one might begin a family. Tonight is the night where you may forge the bonds that will carry you for the rest of your life. If you feel love take root, please, do not resist it. Allow it to flower, and blossom, and see where it will take you. If it is true, then it will be a blessing to you, and if it is not, then it will fade by the end of the festival, and no harm will come to you and those that you lay with.”

No legal harm, Hazel knew. Tristan was playing it down a bit, unless he was really meaning to take some of the traditions away. Those that coupled were to be bound together for at least a year after the end of the festival, allowing them the chance to properly raise whatever child that they gained from the coupling. At the end of that, then there was the chance to possibly split, but…

Well, few did. And while the church was very good at giving support and counseling, she had seen a few bad marriages as a result. Not many, but a few. 

Tristan was still speaking, laying out the rules for those that didn’t know it. 

“The festival is simple. Once the lights go up in the sky, the ritual will begin. All will feel the urge to be with someone else, to feel the touch of another’s hand, another’s warmth. We will dance, and we will drink, celebrating everyone and everything in our lives. And then, at the end of it, we will go our separate ways until the morrow. Find someone that will make you happy, is all that I ask of you.”

Hazel saw that the other priests and sisters were raising their arms, and she did the same, gesturing towards the heavens. The moon was shining bright as the last bits of the sunlight began to fade, giving rise to the power of the night. 

The power of Erastil gathered around them, bright and gentle, and their robes glowed with the holy light of their patron. She closed her eyes, feeling it burning through her, uplifting her heart, making her feel…making her feel whole again. For a moment, then another, she felt none of the lust or the confusion that she had been suffering from for so long. 

She lifted her hands, joining her power to the great collection of it behind Tristan. The high priest reached for it, and like the leader – 

[i]The Alpha.[/i]

That interruption broke her train of thought, and it nearly broke her ability to control the spell in her hands. She almost lost control, almost sent her share of the ritual spiraling away before she grabbed hold of it again. She managed to salvage it, but only barely, and she was thankful when the high priest took it from her, casting the light into the sky. 

As the burning brilliance of the spell filled the darkening heavens, as the warmth of the ritual fell upon the crowd, Hazel didn’t join the others in cheering. She was too lost in her own head, too focused on what had just happened. 

[i]Alpha…[/i]

The thought, had that come from Melchiresa? Was she still more linked to the demon lord than she’d thought? Or had that come from something else, from her?

It certainly could have come from her, considering her recent obsession with the links between the demon lord and her own patron. The ritual was no different than the feeling that she’d gotten from the Pack, or at least, not nearly as different as it should have been. She could still feel the way that they had all come together behind their leader, offering him the power to do as he wished with what they had. That…that was not just family. That was something else. That was something older, more primitive. 

With that shiver still running up and down her spine, Hazel could barely bring herself to the edge of the dance floor. The villagers were slowly starting to brave it, driven to it by the instincts that the ritual was pulling out of them, but none of them had made their way to the hobgoblin group just yet. Hazel was still out of it as she stood beside Vakrozad, shaking her head repeatedly. 

The hobgoblin chieftain chuckled as he patted her back. 

“You okay there?”

“Huh?”

“You look a hundred miles away.”

“Just…thinking. I noticed something that I didn’t expect.”

“Heh, the way that Tristan got all alpha on you?”

“You…Of course, you’re used to seeing those things,” she said, covering her face and blushing. “He’s not our alpha. He’s just the high priest.”

“Yeah, but he’s basically the same thing.”

“He’s…he’s not,” Hazel said, shaking her head. “There’s no way that he’s even close to the same thing.”

“Well, just saying, from where I’m standing, you guys lined up to follow his orders. He’s the guy that called the shots, he told you what to do, and he spoke for you. That sounds like an alpha to me.”

And considering that the hobgoblins used to follow Melchiresa, that was rather telling. If they saw it, she wondered who else did. 

She was still trying to sort through that when she noticed one of the sisters approaching. The half-elf blinked, swearing that she had to be seeing things, but no. It was Sparrow, the girl that watched over the library. She was blushing, definitely out of her comfort zone, but she walked right up to one of the hobgoblin warriors before bowing her head. 

“Excuse me, sir, but…may I ask for a dance?”

Every hobgoblin in the group turned to her at that point, and so did Hazel’s for that matter. 

[i]No chance in hell. She didn’t just…did she just…[/i]

“Heh, if you can keep up, girl, I’ll take ya,” the warrior said. 

“Oh, I can dance pretty well.”

“You know the Stomp?”

“I haven’t danced that in [i]years.[/i]” The librarian grinned. “Let’s do it.”

And with that, the first hobgoblin stepped out onto the dance floor, shocking everyone around him. The other villagers stared, only to have their expressions turn from disgust to surprise as they watched the big guy start stomping around. The dance was well-named, as it was mostly a farm-dance that imitated the stomping walk to a folk beat, followed by a leap and spin that kept you moving up and down the dance floor. It was as simple as it got, but they were perfectly in sync with each other. 

Hazel shook her head, hardly believing what she was seeing. 

“I never would have guessed it…”

“Heh, well, shy girls hide the most,” Vakrozad said. 

“Apparently…”

After that, the ice was broken, and bit by bit, the village girls from earlier started to approach the hobgoblin group. Some of them were a bit more shy, and others were more eager, but now that the festival had started, everyone was honest. She watched as they went, keeping an eye out for any of the other signs that Mol had mentioned, and doing her best to ignore the other ‘warning’ that the seer had given her. That, she told herself, was not happening. 

One by one, the hobgoblins joined the dance, sometimes doing the Stomp, sometimes doing something a little more elaborate. To her surprise, there were a few occasions where men from the village came over to ask a warrior to dance, as well, and she could see that [i]they[/i] were watched by the priest side, as well. Hazel knew that there was a certain amount she was expected to do in such occasions, but in this case, she…didn’t. 

[i]Why not let them have a little love?[/i] she thought, watching as the men danced together. [i]Just because they can’t have a child…[/i]

It was against what Erastil preached, according to the conservatives, as the whole point of the religion was for families to be made. But what was a family, save for those that loved each other? Blood was not related at the start; why did it have to be related as time went on?

“Thought your kind didn’t like the men together,” Vakrozad muttered. 

“Some of us don’t. Some of us believe that love is love.”

“Yeah. Not the lady with hooves over there, though.”

“Sister Oakhoof has…contrasting views with mine.”

“Yeah? She looks at you with plenty of attention.”

“W-what?”

Despite herself, she turned to look, telling herself that it was just to prove Vakrozad wrong. When she saw that the elf woman wasn’t looking at her, though, she strangely felt…disappointed. It was very strange. 

Soon, it was just her and the chief that were left of the hobgoblin delegation, and she knew that there would be no villager that was willing to come and dance at that point. All the adventurous ones had already taken the easy targets, and those that were left would not dance with the obviously terrifying one. 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, though, and she couldn’t help but give the chief at least a little admiration. Not merely for what he’d done, either, but for how he looked in the moonlight and torchlight, the oils on his fur and skin making him look particularly strong and…and dashing, even. 

She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to stifle the lust that must be affecting her, but there was nothing this time. It took her a moment to remember what else the ritual did, and how the pendant probably wouldn’t help against that. She gritted her teeth, blushing as certain images started to pop into her head. 

Not lustful ones, but rather, images of her curled up against his side, of the two of them by a fire, of them looking down at – 

[i]No, no, no! I’m waiting for Vitus. I’ve already screwed that up enough, I’m not going to make it worse.[/i]

“Hey. Guard dog.”

She blinked, pulled out of her thoughts rather roughly by the chief’s hand in hers. Hazel looked down and then up, blinking again as he smiled down at her. There was just enough of a snort to his nose to keep it from looking handsome, but…cute was still there. 

“You wanna dance?”

“…I honestly shouldn’t. I should keep an eye on proceedings.”

“Hey, I think things are proceeding pretty well. See?”

Vakrozad gestured at the party, and she had to admit that it was going better than she had ever expected. The whole thing was slowly coming together as a proper celebration, what with the hobgoblins dancing some of the ladies off their feet. Sparrow had disappeared from the dance floor, and she could only imagine what her friend was getting up to in the shadows. She had…well, she hadn’t seen [i]many[/i] people naked, but she had a guess that the hobgoblins were rather well-endowed, and that her friend would be walking funny in the morning. 

The chief squeezed her hand again, chuckling. 

“What’s one dance, huh?”

“…One, alright? Just one?”

“Just one.”

Nodding, Hazel allowed her hand to be lifted, and she brought the other over. She had to kick her sandals off, knowing from the way that the hobgoblin chief moved that she’d never be able to keep up on those things. 

The well-muscled, thick-shouldered Vakrozad pulled her onto the dance floor, his momentum alone clearing a path for the two of them through the mass of humans, elves, and half-elves on the floor. She followed with a leap and a twist, allowing him to lead, but making sure that she matched him. A dancer could not rely on their partner for everything, after all. 

As he spun her around, they pressed together. For a moment, she felt his muscles, his body – and his [i]bulge[/i] – pressed against her, and she was half-sure that he could feel her chest and…other things…in return. Their eyes met, and they split apart again, her cheeks red, his face lighting up in a smile. 

Despite everything, she smiled back. She didn’t know why, but…something was right with this. 

[i]Just one dance,[/i] she told herself. [i]Just one.[/i]

They spun, and he used his strength to lift her up on her tiptoes before bringing her down again, reeling her in. She followed the move, sliding along his arm, spinning until her back was against his chest, her arms pulling his around her. He started to lift, and she jumped, allowing him to take her over his head. 

As she landed on her bare feet, she spun, getting some distance, knowing this dance. It was the Hunt, and she was the prey, albeit the tempting prey rather than the helpless one, as she curled her fingers to draw the great ‘beast’ closer. 

He moved with surprising grace for his size, and Hazel backed up slowly on the dance floor, a twitch and a rustle going through her hips as she moved them from side to side, finding her place in the dance. It was an alluring movement, something that was hardly appropriate for ‘family’…but for the creation of it? Certainly so. 

The hobgoblin darted for her, but she danced to the side, leaning against him as he leaned forward. They spun, they touched, and he wrapped his arms about her as he dipped her to the earth. She feigned distress, and he swung her back and between his legs, leaving her sliding across the stone floor. 

It was a dance that she had not danced in far too long, and she barely remembered the steps, yet she danced it as if it was something she did every week, every night. It was beyond muscle memory, becoming something else as she followed instincts rather than memory, as she followed her body rather than her mind. 

Once again, he followed, and this time, his leaping pounce was sufficient to grab her. He spun, holding her under the arms as he held her up to the sky, and she had to look down at him. 

Their eyes met, and it was, for a strange, long moment, something loving. 

Hazel smiled…and then the song for their dance came to an end. Vakrozad lowered her to the ground, and as her bare feet touched the earth, she took a breath and – at least somewhat – came to her senses. 

“Heh, you okay?” he asked. 

“I will be.”

“Another?”

“…Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to push my luck.”

“You afraid to be seen with me or something?”

“No, not that…”

What did you say when you didn’t trust yourself, and you didn’t want to give someone else reason to make you doubt yourself further? She shook her head, patting his hand and going back to the sidelines. As she did, she saw Sparrow and the hobgoblin that the librarian had danced with coming back, and Hazel got a little red in her cheeks as she saw the slight hint of something dripping out from between the other woman’s legs. 

[i]Well, it is the reason for the season…[/i]

Shaking her head, Hazel made her way to a stump at the edge of the dance floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Sister Oakhoof was watching her, and it was almost like there was something…something strange with that woman. Not quite jealousy, but not quite idle curiosity, either. When she looked back at the middle-aged elf, she found herself remembering their time in the bath, and how…aroused…she’d become when the other woman had started taking charge, manhandling her. 

Manhandling her feet. 

She blushed a bit at that remembrance, trying not to think about that too much. It had only been the thought of a moment to take off her sandals and dance, but now that she was no longer seized by the music, she was aware of how tawdry that look was. A priestess was supposed to take care of herself, after all, and going around in a robe damp with sweat and barefoot was nothing like taking care of herself. 

She pulled her robe down, hiding her embarrassment, but there was still that feeling of the elf sister looking her way. Yet, every time that she glanced at Sister Oakhoof, she swore that the elf was looking somewhere else. 

[i]What’s going on?[/i]

Shaking her head, she tried to find Tristan in the crowd. She assumed that he’d either be dancing with the rest of the priests or making his way back to the temple proper, but she didn’t see him in either case. Hazel started to lift her head up to look around – 

“Don’t react. Don’t turn around.”

Hazel didn’t even nod, but instead whispered back, barely moving her lips. 

“Tristan?”

“The same,” he whispered. 

“What’s going on?”

“Checking in without anyone noticing; having all the power of the ritual makes it quite a bit easier to move around.” His voice was quiet, further down. She guessed that he had managed to emerge from the earth behind the stump. “And this way, I don’t have to worry about anyone opposed to this plan listening in.”

“Aren’t you a little…paranoid?”

“We were a step away from a riot while you were coming into town. One little flare-up, and the whole thing could have gone up in smoke.”

“…Good thing that Mol was on our side, then. She’s their seer.”

“Tell me everything you’ve learned so far.”

And so, Hazel whispered what she had managed to learn. She told him of the fact that the hobgoblins had worshiped Melchiresa and her suspicions that they probably hadn’t completely left that worship behind. She told him of how their seer talked about the demon lord in a completely familiar way, and implied certain…relations…between them. And she even told him what she had seen about the rather inhuman nature of certain parts of the chief of the hobgoblins, unable to quite stop herself from talking about that particular attribute. 

“…It seems that you’ve been quite busy, then,” Tristan muttered. 

“You asked me to do a job. I try to do it to the best of my ability.”

“You’re doing well. Just make sure that everything goes smoothly. And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“The seer, this Mol.”

“Yes?”

“…You said that she’s not entirely female?”

“…That’s what you latched onto, High Priest?” Hazel asked, almost more bemused than shocked. 

“Forget I asked. Good luck with your task.”

And with that, Tristan disappeared, leaving her alone at the edge of the dance floor again. Hazel shook her head, starting to pull her leg up to sit more comfortably, only to immediately put it down again as she remembered her barefoot state. 

[i]I need to find those sandals.[/i]

#

“Why didn’t you let me look for my sandals?” 

“It’s late, and I got a message from Mol telling us to come back,” Vakrozad said as he led the way through the forest. 

“And we couldn’t have spared five minutes to look for something for me to wear?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, doing her best to keep up with the hobgoblin. Not the easiest thing when you were walking over pine needles and worse, and you didn’t have anything to keep them from jabbing into your soles. Forget about the roots or anything rougher. 

Hazel was just happy that she had learned enough magic to know how to detect life around her. It made the whole passage through the forest that much easier when she wasn’t having to worry about stepping on something that would go ‘pop’ under her foot, or whip around in the dark with angry bites. 

At the very least, the long walk worked as a way to get her mind off of the strange ‘pairing’ fantasies that she’d had at the festival. For all that she had been unfaithful to Vitus for the long trip back to the temple, she didn’t want to add to her mistakes. It was something that she could at least try and do better with. 

And besides, for all that he was amusing and an apparently decent man, Vakrozad was not really the sort of person that she should get into a relationship with. Hobgoblin stuff aside, getting with him would mean leaving behind all the people that she knew in the temple, and worse, it would mean leaving behind most of civilization. Her people were among the most tolerant in the world, and [i]they[/i] weren’t happy about a hobgoblin group being nearby without having a spell on them. She didn’t want to think about what the rest of the world would think. 

And there was that lingering issue about the Melchiresa stuff that she didn’t know how to bring up properly. 

“Did Mol say what she wanted to talk about?”

“No, just that she needed both of us.”

“Well, that’s dramatic.”

“She’s a seer; they do that.”

“I thought they just got fucked up the – forget I said that. I can’t believe I said that.”

For all her embarrassment, Vakrozad was laughing his head off, almost falling off the tree root that he stood on. The hobgoblin shook his head, looking back at her. 

“She told you that?”

“Well, she implied it.”

“The last time she actually did that, she got a pack-wide gang-bang going on.”

“…She…got through that?”

“Got through it? She outlasted all the hounds and told Melchiresa she was slipping.”

“…I thought she was insane. Now I know,” Hazel muttered as she caught up. 

“Heh, says the guard dog that’s envious of her.”

“…Shut up,” she grunted with a blush, continuing to follow him towards the camp. 













[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Hazel continues to work as intermediary for the hobgoblins, and ends up having a few blushing moments in the first part of the festival. 

Tags: F/solo, M/F, off-screen sex, vaginal, foot fetish, foot focus, barefoot, dancing, bulge, embarrassment, submission, magic, fantasy, series, hobgoblin, half-elf, human, various species,