“And this: My good sir, is my pride and joy.” The heavy set man announced with a grand sweep of his arm and a smile so large I began to feel his face would tear in two. As he stepped aside I looked into the room at which he gestured, and a small gasp escaped my lips. “They’re so… beautiful.” I said in a hushed whisper. Casting my gaze over each in turn, I noted their various expressions, ranging from solemn and defeated to those of intended murder or rage. Most wore their hair long, either flowing down their back or done in long twisting braids, some even twisting the braids around their necks as a form of scarf. Their frames seemed to either be universally lean and a bit lanky, or naturally flaring out at the hips, and it seemed that the ones who wore their hair straight and unbraided were those with the leaner forms. “Yes sir, Half-Sent’ll do yuh if you are only interested in spellcraft as a hobby, but for a true Druid or Thaumaturge you need an Elf. Now we got four kinds here, each with their ups and do- Oi! Line up you shivering bastards! We got a customer!” His already abrasive voice boomed in my ear and I shrank away out of instinct, covering it to prevent further damage. He seemed to notice and began apologizing profusely before turning and scolding his property. Righting myself I followed as he trotted into the room, his thick grey-ish shoulders almost too wide to fit the narrow doorframe. He again indicated his flock, which had broken up into four rough groups. He stood first by a group of wide-hipped, what I assumed to be female, elves and clapped the closest on the shoulder and she, to her credit, stood stock still and stared right ahead. “This here is the female full-bloods. They are really popular for a slew of reasons.” He smiled then, a rather hideous grin implying things better left unsaid. He continued, “You can tell on account of their hips,” he smacked the slight framed girl on her backside, “and their ears.” He then took this opportunity to tug on her pointed ear, causing her to momentarily cringe, and I could tell that I had cringed as well. She quickly recovered though, taking a deep breath and flicking her short, wisp-white hair to the side. I took the time to look across the lot of them as the large Orc made his way to the second set. I noticed a trend then, all of them wore their -universally pale- hair either short or in braids. Their eyes were dull but I could make out their vibrant colors, beautiful golds and coppers and teals and greens. It was rather surprising how many among them seemed unusually well built and toned, particularly in the legs and lower body, and I wondered if perhaps the harsh conditions of their homeland necessitated their women be as fit as their men. I didn’t spend much time analyzing them but I gathered that most of them could out run or out jump a fit man. Turning to follow, my eyes locked with the last one in line. She wore her ash-grey hair short, offsetting her softly browned skin in a way that visibly drew the eye. Her eyes were a deep, almost glowing green that reminded me of the green glassed gas-lights that illuminated the streets and water-roads outside. A pale, horizontal scar traced over the bridge of her strong, prominent nose and something in me immediately wondered where it had come from. In the back of my mind I knew that Mr. Dlaver was discussing the males and how they were better in a fight and the like, but something about that one’s eyes kept me focused. It was a look of accepted eventuality but yet also determination, as if she knew would likely never see home and family again, but she refused to let it break her. My chest hurt at that look. When I could no longer stand it I turned away, just in time to catch the beginning of the salesman’s rant on half-elves. How they were hardly on par with a Half-Sent for memory retention, but that they could also cast minor spells “like they were people”. I noted the shortness of their ears in comparison to their full-blooded cousins, and the unique and strangely vibrant ringing around their pupils. Eventually he asked me which looked the most promising, and my eyes flicked back over towards those immaculate green eyes. “What’s that one’s name?” I asked, almost without thinking. “Name?” He man questioned, almost not understanding. “Oi! You.” He hollered, pointing at the girl and finally drawing her eyes from mine, “Come over here. That’s good one there kid, a great choice. She’s 36, just finishing off her girlhood, and she’ll last a long time. Hell, if you treat her right your grandkids could use her.” He belted out a hearty laugh as he clapped me on the back, nearly knocking me over. She had arrived before us just as the thought clicked in my head. “Shaelagoth have mercy she’s older than I am.” I mumbled, my mouth dropping in disbelief. How could I possibly own someone who had been through more and seen more than I had? As I contemplated this, she leaned forward, her face nearly touching mine as she tried to catch my eyes. I only snapped out of my musings and noticed when I felt her soft breath on my face and she whispered something. Springing back out of some baser reflex I found myself caught by the heavy-set orc, who seemed most amused at my expense. “Friendly ain’t they?” He managed, nearly doubling over in his guffaws. “They like to do that, something about ‘Lack of personal boundaries’.” He emphasized his point by curling his fingers into a crude approximation of quotation marks, “Still, I think she’s taken a liking to you my boy.” “Oh.” I managed, still breathing a little heavy as I straightened, my face nearly level with hers. Leaning in I took a quick breath and tried to meet her unwavering eyes, “I’m sorry. What was it you said?” “Liflyhn Aveshj” Her voice very much did not match her frame, being relatively husky. However something about it fit her. Leaning back she examined me, eyes starting at my simple boots and travelling up. I took this time to examine her as well. Mr. Dlaver had dressed in her in a simple, uncolored linen dress with sleeves that extended just past the elbow that did nothing to accent or enhance her figure. Around her neck was a simple ribbon choker with a small metal ring in the front and I felt like something once attached there. My eyes moving down, lingering a bit longer than I was comfortable admitting on her modest chest. Even with the oversized dress I could plainly make out the widest parts of her hips pressing against the fabric and I felt something stir in me. Moving along I took note of the occasional scar that traced over her calves and ankles. Her feet were hidden under simple leather slippers that ended just under her ankles, they reminded me of the functional short-boots the women of my hometown wore and a smile crossed my lips. That faded as my eyes returned to hers and I noticed her cheeky grin. I felt a blush lance over my cheeks as I turned towards the gleeful Orc. “So what do you say my boy? Do you fancy her? She has impeccable penmanship and a keen eye for detail. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘she’s too old’, well bear in mind that in your years she’s just now becoming a woman. They start their bleeding much later and it takes them a lot longer to age. This one started as late as 20 in fact.” He swept his hand towards her and now it was her turn to look away and blush. “I’ll take as little as 15 Kings for her, since you two get along so well.” Taking a deep breath, I weighed my options. On one hand, that was no light sum, and it would leave me with barely 4 King’s Heads and a couple Queens but on the other I needed her if I had any hope of getting my Druid’s Mark. With a heavy sigh I reached back and unhooked my satchel from my belt, “The road to treasure is lined with thorns.” I assured myself, nodding my head to the delight man before me. As the money entered his palm I could hear the unbridled joy in his deep voice, “Oh great mother watch over you my boy. I’ll have her washed and delivered with all due haste. Where are you staying if I may ask? I can leave her waiting in your room if you like.” “I’m at the If Trouble Inn, or, that’s where I will be staying. I need to do some shopping first and-“ “No worries my boy. I’ll get you a room all set, just have a word with the owner when you get there and tell him I sent you.” He gave a wink as he ushered me back out into the main room, closing the door behind him. After that it was a simple matter of signing the proper documents and the like and before it even fully connected in my mind, I was the owner of an elf. - As I ended up outside of the Inn, hardwood dock softly shifting under my feet, I felt oddly nervous. As I eased open the old oak door I attempted to reason with my worries. After all, people bought elves every day; some even purchased entire groves of them at a time. So why were my knees shaking as I made my way through the crowd? Making it to the bar, I rapped a couple of times on the bar to let the owner know I wished to see him and then turned to face the small mass that occupied the bar floor. Looking over the odd parade in front of me I attempted to count all the various races before me. There were Dwarves and Drakekin wrestling arms, Halflings debating the pros and cons of various river routes with Gatos while a human scholar charted ancestry with a handful of gaily dressed Devil-folk. This is what I loved about Freke Galae, aside from its astounding underwater architecture, was that it was the perfect size; large enough to draw a slew of various races, but small enough that they all had to share the same space. I did take note of the absence of Elves or Half-Sents around; perhaps they were all being kept in their owner’s rooms? Just as the thought entered my mind, a stern voice sounded behind me: “Oi boy! What can I do yuh?” I nearly leapt into the air from the sudden proximity of the voice, wheeling around to face the speaker. I was met with the friendly but well worn face of a human, likely 60 or more years old and baring the scars of an adventurous youth. He smiled as I extended a hand towards him, and I was thankful that he didn’t take the opportunity to laugh at my expense. “Hi, sorry, you startled me.” I said, straightening my waistcoat, “Mr. Dlaver sent me.” “Ah! Yes the boy with the elf. Good for yuh. Don’t feel odd about it kid, half the folks here have a companion or two of their own. Hell I have a couple Half-Sents working the kitchen, handy lot them.” That came as a welcome relief and I informed him of that, much to his amusement. He gestured me around the bar and as I filed down the several flights of stairs I took the opportunity to look outside the large windows. I loved the water, and the fact that I could watch the fish outside swim and cluster around the green glowing gas-lights outside reminded me of how great things could be if one took the chance to pursue what they wanted. Perhaps owning an Elf would be just as worthwhile as leaving home. As we arrived outside my door, the large man pressed a key into my palm and wished me the best of luck, before turning to leave. As he slowly made his way back up the old creaking stairs he told me, “If you need anything, just find me.” I was alone again, or as alone as one could be in the city, and it occurred to me that I may never be this alone again once I walked through that door. I took a deep breath and steeled myself, putting the key into the lock and turning. The hard click was surprisingly definitive and I debated trying my hand at a Piercing Ring to get a look inside. I quickly abandoned that idea when I realized how pathetic that would make me and simply turned the door handle. As I opened the door and cast my gaze inside, my first instinct was to look right at the form standing in the center of the room but I resisted and instead took in the room itself. The floor itself was a beautiful, red hardwood with a dark accent strip separating it from the wall, upon which was a beautiful mural depicting the story of Shaelagoth turning men into the first fish. The bed itself looked very comfortable, being large enough for two and covered in a large, thick blanket. A lump caught in my throat when I realized there was only one. The room also held a bedside table with a lantern, a small table with two chairs and a small writing desk. All in all not bad for 5 Queens a night, which I could likely make up for with some morning fishing to sell back to the owner; a common way to pay for rooms. Finally I brought my attention the young girl standing in the center of the room, eyes locked on mine even as I turned towards her. She was dressed in a beautiful dress, definitely worth a pretty penny, and it was clear that Mr. Dlaver was going all out to impress me. The slight off-white matched her hair and the embroidery at the bottom and on the cuffs of the long-sleeves was clearly trying to match her eyes, but paled in comparison. The shape and cut was close at the top, obviously trying to showcase what breasts she had before narrowing at the center with a simple ribbon like the one around her neck. It flared out below that, visibly flowing over her broad hips and thighs before ending just above her shoes, the same ones she had been wearing when I first met her. As my eyes made their way back up she did a quick turn, showing off the unique lacing pattern that danced its way up the back of her dress, even if my attention was stolen by the way her dress traced the shape of her buttocks and her womanly thighs and it occurred to me she may not have anything under her dress. As a blush heated my cheeks and I felt a stirring in my trousers, she turned to face me again and my eyes flicked quickly up to her eyes, hoping she hadn’t noticed. It was obvious from her grin that she had, and as she stepped forward she extended her hand to me, “Hello sir, it is my pleasure to serve.” She was smiling but I could tell that it didn’t reach her beautiful eyes. Out of courtesy I took her hand and shook it, I was caught slightly off guard by how worn they were, much different from the soft dainty hands of most Human and even Halfling women. “The pleasure is mine.” I assured her, releasing her hand and taking a step back. I was unsure of how to proceed from her, but decided to start with the obvious: “So um, is there anything you need? How long exactly have you been waiting for me? Not long I hope.” She smiled then, in a way that did reach her eyes, and it made them brighten further. At this point I was certain that they would glow in the dark. “I am well sir; I have only been here for a half hour. If you would pardon my bluntness though, I do lack a change of clothes.” She nodded her head towards her clothes as she said that. “Oh! Yes of course. I didn’t know if you would be given anything to wear or not so I gathered a few things.” With that I unhooked the leather bag that hung from my belt and held it out to her. It contained the few things I had thought would fit her or that she might enjoy. Reaching in she pulled out something long and sea-green, I quickly recognized it as the scarf I had gotten for her on a whim and as she looked it over her mouth dropped open. Wrapping it instantly around her throat she again twirled, the long material trailing behind her. Her small mouth was made wide with a full smile and I knew instantly that it was a good choice, well worth the King’s Head I spent for it. Remembering the bag she held in her hand she looked in again, pulling out a short-sleeved shirt that was a similar ash-white to her hair. Setting it on the desk, she dug out a pair of blue trousers I had gotten from a Naval Stockade for a few Queens, having decided that a pair of functional breeches would be of more use in my line of work than a fancy dress. Giving it her nod of approval she removed the last items from the sack, offering it back to me with one hand as she looked over them. One was a waterproofed case, designed to hang from a belt and hold the ink used in painting the sigils and marks for spellcraft. Also included was a simple belt, a waterproofed satchel who’s strap crossed over the body and hung from the shoulder, but that also secured to the belt to keep it in place, much like mine, and a small holster for a miniature paintbrush attached to a thin chain. “So? Do you like them?” I asked with a slight nervous quiver in my voice. A smile crossed her lips as she answered, “Yes sir. Though I must ask, why the trousers and shirt? Do you not like the dress?” She gestured at herself, her face one of adorable confusion. “Oh no, nothing like that,” I assured, for some reason it felt rude to let her think that, even if she was my property, “I just have a very active line of work, and I need you to be able to keep up.” “I see.” She said, nodding her head and obviously considering the implications of this. “So… do you want to try them on? I’m unsure if they’ll fit or not.” I queried, pulling her from her contemplation to address the task at hand. “If it please you sir.” She replied, not really paying attention as she set her new tools of trade aside. Before I even realized what was happening she had begun unlacing the back of her dress, and something about that held me in place. Would she really undress in front of me, I wondered. As it would happen, the answer was yes. It began with the ribbon around her waist, and as she removed it she let it drape onto the ground in carefree manner as if she didn’t much care for it. Before it even hit the ground, her fingers were working at the strings at the back of her dress, undoing them with unerring finesse and I was rather entranced by her dexterity. With that finished she shrugged the simple dress off of her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her feet, not even sparing a glance backwards as she exposed herself. I would like to say I was a gentleman about it, but I couldn’t turn my eyes away, she was beautiful, her skin a deep tan from a life outdoors with visible tan lines that hinted at her typical dress in the wilds of Norvensj, what seemed to be some manner of vest and trousers that ended just above the ankles, though I could not be sure. What drew my eye most, aside from her voluptuous hips and backside, were the lines of pale scars that dances up her arms and thighs, each likely with its own story to tell much like the one over her nose. It was only now that she removed the scarf, this time folding it carefully and sitting the stretch of sea green fabric on the bed. I found it odd that she would be so gentle with it, but that was pushed aside as she turned to face me finally, her voluptuous form exposed to me as if it was nothing at all and I couldn’t help but notice the absence of hair on the soft mound at the apex of her thighs. Her modest bosom bounced softly as she walked over to where she had set her change of clothing, and she began dressing at a leisurely pace as if this was completely normal. Pulling on the shirt first, I nearly forgot to pay attention to the fit, instead my eyes were locked on the way the white cloth framed her plump, light brown buttocks. When I finally refocused she had turned to face me, the cut of the shirt front mimicking almost perfectly the lines of her womanhood and I had to force myself to look up, noting how the cloth fit close to her frame but didn’t pull too tight or look gaudy. The look in her eye was one of unsubtle pleasure, happy to see that I approved of the outfit no doubt. With that she pulled on the leggings, which seemed a decent fit, if a bit too tight on the thighs. Slipping her shoes back on, she turned before me again, “What do you think sir?” Her voice surprisingly casual, and genuinely curious. All in all I couldn’t deny she looked wonderful, if a bit boyish due to her hair and clothing, but her hips denied any accusation of masculinity. Without thinking I spoke, softly muttering that is was incredible before shaking my head to clear it I attempted to clarify, feeling my face redden. “That is to say, it looks well on you Miss Aveshj, do you like it?” Looking herself up and down she nodded, stretching a bit to get used to the breeches, and it occurred to me that despite the unique wonderment of her scars, Mr. Dlaver likely dressed her in long-sleeves in an attempt to hide them even if she didn’t seem to mind them at all. As she carefully wrapped her neck with the scarf again she finally replied, “Yes sir, I think they look rather…” She seemed to puzzle a moment for the right word, Low-Lantic obviously not her first language, “cute.” - I decided upon a late lunch, thinking that it would be best to see how the young elf did on a full stomach. She trailed along behind me, her steps light and nearly silent to the point where I had to check behind me every minute or so to make sure she was following me. She always smiled when I looked at her, though I often caught the faintest hint of sorrow whenever I turned back quickly enough. As we made our way through the bustling streets, I considered that I didn’t know what elves ate. Did they eat people food, like a human or a dwarf might? Perhaps they ate their meat raw or drank blood or something equally ghoulish. Yet as I turned back to look at Liflyhn, I did not see an abominable hunger nor a craving for the blood of the living. She was simply a rather cute girl in calf-length trousers, a simple shirt and a pixyish haircut, not to mention the scarf she seemed so enamored with. The only thing that seemed different from a normal woman was those luminescent green eyes and the pointiness of her ears. I was so distracted thinking about it, I didn’t notice that I had led us into a back-alley, narrow enough for use to fit single-file but not to stand side-by-side. I knew it would be trouble when an abnormally beefy Drakekin rounded the corner, a cruel look in his beady, flame-red eyes. He was shirtless, only a simple leather jack and a pair of beaten breeches upon his legs, his dull-brown scales dirty and flaking in places and the talons on his clawed feel chipped and yellowed. He shown a toothy grin as he approached and I could smell the decay from where I was standing, about 5 yards away. Shifting slightly, I tried to remember all the tips my father had taught me about fighting, but they all seemed to boil down to: Don’t get in a fist-fight with a Drakekin. I cursed my poor luck and thought it couldn’t get worse as I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. Craning my head to try and keep Drakekin in view, I noticed an equally scroungey looking dwarf approach for the other end of the alleyway. We were trapped. “Aw. Was’sa matter? Ye’ d’nae want to play?” The Drakekin question, his mouth a hideous grin, made worse by the brown-yellow teeth. “We jess’ wanna’ borrow a few pieces. Y’dun mind d’ya?” The dwarf crowed behind me. The situation looked bad, but I at least had an ace up my sleeve, reaching behind me a pulled a knife from the sheath on back of my belt, it wasn’t much but if I was smart I could use it to my advantage. It was then I remembered my partner, my servant behind me. She was unarmed against the stocky dwarf, and likely wouldn’t fare well no matter what. I didn’t even think about the fact that she could take it and plant it between my ribs, but I passed the knife to her, her only offer of gratitude being an almost imperceptible grin. By this time the pair had closed in, about a meter from us and ready to pounce at any moment. I steeled myself, I wasn’t much of a fighter, but I’d been in my share of neighborhood scraps growing up and I fancied my chances of at least lasting until Liflyhn could escape. I only wished the thought had brought me more comfort. As the large scaly beast charged, I managed my best to get under his arms, dodging his hasty grapple and managing to plant a blow on his stomach. He obviously did not take kindly to that, as he proceeded to grab my head in his massive hand and slam it against the rough brickwork. The blow knocked loose my senses, and perhaps a tooth, but I could tell I had a nasty scrape on my cheek. Getting what mediocre momentum I could I braced his arm with one hand and attempted to slam my other fist into his elbow. I was successful, the blow breaking his grip, but his thick arm and hard bone withstood the attempt to disable him. He returned the favor by bring up his massive foot to try to kick me, and likely give me some manner of infection at the same time, but I gracefully back stepped, tripping on a loose bit of gravel and falling on my arse. It was about that time that I looked behind me to see that the Dwarf was no longer standing, laying on his face in a puddle of what I could only imagine to be his own blood. Lif was in the middle of flicking her wrist at the Drakekin and I was about to comment on the absurdity when I noticed that my knife was missing from her hand. Perhaps it was my throbbing skull that made it take so long to connect the two events, but as I turned towards first thug I found the knife again. It had managed to get all the way over to his neck. Shaking my head, it occurred to me that my companion, who I had just spent the better part of fight worrying over, had successfully incapacitated both assailants in the time it took me to get my head slammed into what I assumed to be a bakery, and fall on my ass. I looked up at her with a newfound respect as I managed my way to my feet, knees unsteady beneath me. - With both attackers either dead or attempting not to die, I said a quick “good day” to them before grabbing my elf’s hand and hurrying her and myself out of the alleyway and towards the safety and scrutiny of the local Paladin’s Monastery. There I got my head examined and was deemed no worse for the wear, though I was given a sap bandage for my cheek. Lif had come out of the endeavor unscathed and I spent the better part of the day explaining my story to them. How I had most certainly not given the knife to my elf and definitely taken out both criminals while still having my head knocked in and without a drop of blood on my hands or wrists. The blood on Liflyhn’s hands had come from her vain attempt to stop the bleeding of the dwarf so that he could receive proper justice. In the end I was slapped with a fine for unnecessary violence for stabbing the Dwarf twice in the throat, three times in the chest and once in the back of the neck. I didn’t ask about the Drakekin, I simply wanted to go back to my room and sleep. The only comfort in the room was the fact that Lif had been allowed to stay with me, since she was my property. In the end I spent a bit more than was likely fair for some fresh beef rolls and a couple pears, and the late lunch was instead a late dinner, the sun beginning to set as my elf and I sat on the wooden dock outside the public house and ate our meal. I was tempted to ask her where she had learned to fight like that, but instead I simply told her she had been remarkable today. She thanked me, and scooted a bit closer, the sun dipping below the water as she rested her head on my shoulder and despite myself I thought of how nice it was. I hoped the rest of out time together could be this nice. - We had been a week on the road, going by horse from Freke Galae to Siobhanstead, and had decided that rather than make camp upon the dusty road one more night we would treat ourselves to a much deserved respite at a nearby inn. It was a thin, tall place nestled in a copse of trees that stood like an island in the midst of clear-cut farmland. The building’s name was The Willowy Woman’s and the man at the counter explained that it came from a child’s ghost story. The Willowy Woman was a spirit, said to roam the wood, spying on lovers and young men. In life she was a witch, well versed in potions and brews and incenses who was said to give her services for free to any who would demonstrate their love in her realm. One day she had the misfortune of spying upon a noblewoman and her secret paramour, when she was discovered the noblewoman had her put to death so that she might take her knowledge of the affair to her grave. Now she walks what remains of her forest, seeking those who’s love inspired her to craft such wondrous concoctions, that one day she might find peace. This was, of course, not an uncommon tale; many such stories of voyeurs spying upon a noble in the midst of an affair only to lose their life for it were a penny a pair in rural areas between towns. Regardless, Liflyhn was quite taken with the tale, prompting the innkeep to divulge that many who came to visit would see her peaking in their windows or around their doors at night. This seemed to further Lif’s interest as it seemed that such spirits were far less common place in Norvenshj, from which Lif hailed. I paid for our room and while Liflyhn saw to the horses I opted for a stroll around the premises I purchased a light supper for the both of us and went upstairs to study, it was growing dark and the constant travel left little time to further my efforts in academia. When Lif returned we shared our meal and she informed me of a few tales from her homeland, of the Thin Man and the Snowbourn. It seemed that to Elves, ghosts and other non-living spirits where considered dangerous and fearsome, both unknowable and inhuman so to speak. They would snatch children from their beds or bring plague and rot upon villages, whereas the stories that were told on the Unbroken Band painted them as lost souls, often seeking something to bring them peace and rest. As the sun set over Liflyhn asked if there was anything I needed before she retired for the evening, ever apt and willing to serve. I gave her a warm smile, telling her she had done well this past week and to get a good night’s sleep. She nearly bounced with joy before blushing and remembering herself, she gave a single bow and thanked me before heading off into the small room attached to mine. The room I had paid for was a master’s suite, possessing a large room with a single bed and desk for the master’s use, as well as a smaller secondary room for any servants accompanying them. It provided both occupants a degree of privacy while necessitating that the servants could not leave without the master knowing. I knew that while Liflyhn would have been perfectly fine to share a single room, my own sense of genteel honor and decorum made me feel like a scoundrel for making a young woman who lacked any sense modesty share a bed with me. At least that’s what I told myself as I lay in bed, wide awake despite the fact that the moon had risen high into the sky. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t trust myself with the way I looked at her sometimes. When we had first met, I was able to keep a sense of mental dissonance, allow myself to see her as something separate from a person; but now I just saw a beautiful young woman, perhaps with eyes unlike those I had ever seen before, and ears that drew to a leaf-like point, but a woman nonetheless. And I knew that I held power over her, with a word I could have her naked before me and she wouldn’t say a thing to oppose it. And that scared me, frightened me at the prospect of what such an authority might transform me into. Yet still I could not push the thought of her bare form from my mind, the innocence in which she had stripped for me the first day I met her, the shine of water on her tanned skin as she bathed in a stream or the way her wide, ample rump seemed to bounce and sway when she did her morning stretches. It was somewhere amongst these thoughts that I heard it; a faint whimper coming from the room attached, Lif’s room. Focusing my attentions outwards, away from my deviant thoughts, I listen intently in case something was awry. Nothing save for the soft shuffle of bedsheets and the creak of wood came for several long moments, and then another whimpering sigh. Stealing quietly from my bed, I padded with as much grace as I could manage to the separation between our rooms, noticing that the door was cracked slightly ajar. Peering into the slit, I waited as my eyes adjusted to the dark, my ears now picking up on the heavy breathing from the room beyond. I beheld Lif laying on her bed, which was pressed against the adjoining the foot of which faced me, one leg was bent knee up and slightly to the side as the other spread outward, almost falling off the side of the bed. As per usual she wore no bedclothes, and I had an unrestricted view of her supple nethers, or I would have had she not shielding them from my view with one of her hands. I feared at first that I had been caught, until I noticed the slow strokes she made up and down the length of her slit. Squinting, I searched for her other hand and found it upon her breast, which she squeezed and massaged. I cupped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp as I looked on, my breeches suddenly feeling tight as I came to my length. My brain screamed desperately for me to turn away, to preserve her modesty, but a darker, animalistic part of me demanded I stay. Her breathing hastened as she worked, her deft fingers working over her plump slit and occasionally dipping further between her folds, and I could see the entire area begin to glisten with moisture. Her whimpers and sighs gradually became louder until she was forced to cover her mouth to stifle them. I could see the tension beginning to build in her thick thighs, her bent leg pushing her hips upwards off the bed until I could see the entirety of her voluptuous backside. Her hips bucked against her hand as her fingers began to slide deeper within, curling into her most intimate area until her entire form stiffened, only her hips crashing against her hand as fluid pulsed from within soaking the sheets below her as a low moan escaped her. Had I not been so close I may not have even heard it. Finally, she fell back upon the bed, winded from her exertions. I took this time to steal back away from the doorjamb, but not before catching a glimpse of a pale form retreated from the window and for a moment our eyes locked; mine staring into her pale red lenses as a small smile swept up her lips, and I knew then that we had both been watching the same event. I made my way back to my bed and feel into a deep, warm slumber; dreams of a pale-skinned woman watching over me, her pale red eyes keeping watch, filled my unconscious mind. The next day Liflyhn stood patiently by my bedside as I awoke, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. She told me of how she had felt a strange presence watching her in the night, but did not elaborate on her activities beyond that and I found it prudent not to delve into it. I knew what she had done and she knew what she had done, but I did not wish to burden her with the knowledge of my shameful leering. As Liflyhn prepared the horses, I took a short stroll around the building, searching for a ledge or sill upon which the woman might have perched the night before, but found no such thing. I wracked my brain as to how she might have gotten there, our room being on the second story and no trees being near enough to reach the window. At a loss, I decided not to think further on it, but as I turned to leave I found at my feet a small bottle; the contents a strange blue liquid, suspended in which seemed to be pomegranate arils of a deep red. Around the neck of the container was a note, attached with a simple white ribbon, it read: For a likeminded caretaker, let this balm soothe your worries and find you comfort within warm dreams. I never returned to the Willowy Woman’s, though I often recommend it to young couples; a simple inn nestled in a copse of trees, just off the main road. A lovely place for some much needed rest. - 10 Months Later - I placed myself between her and the door, sweat beads rolling down into my eye as my breath heaved in my chest. Her face was cold, colder than even the day I met her, when she was still in bondage but my heart still felt that keen pain. I didn’t know what to say, I had travelled with this woman for the better part of a year and yet she was glaring as if she didn’t even know me anymore. “Don’t leave. Please, you don’t have to tell me what happened, just… don’t go.” My speech was ragged, and my chest was burning and I was pretty sure my gunshot wound had reopened, but I wasn’t moving from that spot. Or so I had decided. Liflyhn had other plans. Kicking out, I was certain she intended to smash in my knee but instead she pushed forward with one hand, her foot hooking behind my right leg and pulling it forward, and I was rather impressed that such a small woman could manage to yank me off my feet so expertly. Or I would have been had I not had what little wind remained in me knocked out as I crashed to the floor. At once she was atop me, her thick thighs straddling my stomach and her hands pinning mine to the hard wooden floor. As my vision refocused I could tell her face was just inches from my own, her warm breath coming in slow, even puffs on my lips; but what drew my attention were her eyes, those vibrant emerald lenses that bore into me with a look I had never seen before but knew instantly. Betrayal. Her voice was barely a whisper, tinged with rage, “Do you know what they did to me? That month you were training with the military? While you danced at those Officer’s Balls and Knighting Ceremonies?” I expected tears, but none came. I knew that when I’d returned from training she seemed different, but I had naïvely assumed that the separation had given her time to reflect on our time together. She clung to me a bit more, occasionally insisting we share a bed, yet she never again repeated her performance from our first day together and often insisted she stay dressed even whilst swimming, she was at once closer and farther than she had ever been. Strangled through labored breaths I attempted to repent, beg forgiveness for letting such a thing happen, that I had expected better of my fellow officers. “Lif I-“ I barely had time to notice her hand leave my wrist before it concussed on the side of my cheek, the impact jerking my head aside and the ringing in my ear reminded me of standing to close to a musket as it fired. “Don’t speak.” Her words were clipped and flat, as if they were not her own, “I don’t want to hear you right now, I want to hurt you. I want you to know that every night I spent in that fucking barracks, every night I waited for you they held me down.” “Please Lif-“ Again my head lit up with pain, and I could taste blood in my mouth. “I said, don’t speak. I waited for you while they fucked me. They held me down and fucked me like I was an animal. As if my ears made me less than them, my homeland made me not a person. And the entire time I lay there, I thought of how deeply I wanted to die, how sincerely I wanted to make you hurt the way I did, when they used me and tossed me aside like a rag.” My body began to shake, from rage, and fear, and gods know how many others. I didn’t want to hear this, I didn’t want this to have happened, and my body and mind were trying to reject it at all costs. But she wouldn’t be silenced and her face began to blur as tears welled in my eyes, but she refused me break her gaze from mine. “Even Donovan, I doubt he ever told you. I bet he still looked you in the eye the next morning; he’d shove his cock down my throat and the next day he’d look you in the eye and call you his friend and clap you on the back. And I hated you for it, because I knew you were the only human who saw me as a person and it made me sick. The day we were finally reunited you rushed to me and held me, and I wanted to carve out your kind heart.” I hadn’t said anything but her palm struck my face once more, and I didn’t even attempt to move, the blow caused sparks to explode through my vision. “I want to have you, I want to own you, I want you to see what a master can be like and I want to break your soft heart while I do it…” She had done nothing this entire time but strike me, but her voice was becoming huskier as she spoke, as if some deep urge was rising in her. With determined slowness, she pulled the strap of her satchel over her head, letting it drop beside us with a padded thud, I opened my mouth to speak but closed it shut again without even thinking. She was in control right now; perhaps she had never truly been under mine to begin with. It occurred to me then that one of my two arms were free, but I dared not more it, lest I further invoke her ire as I knew that presently she had something I was not prepared for planned. With a surprisingly gentle grace, she placed her hand on my stomach and my eyes were draw to the brown limb as it worked its way slowly up my chest to sit lightly on my throat, her dexterous digits flexing softly to cup over my neck. Swinging my eyes back to her face, I saw only that disturbing coldness in her beautiful eyes standing out against her soft features, her small mouth pulled into a tight line. Easing herself backwards, her voluptuous backside planted itself directed on my hips, and for the first time since I had arrived I realized that I was firm; though I did not know why, and the thought of it made me disgusted with myself. She, however, did not seem to mind, allowing her hand to leave my throat as she seemed to settle more fully upon me, pressing me betwixt the crease of her breeches. A tight gasp escaped me and in a moment she was leaning forward again, her hand moving back to my throat as she leaned her weight into it, cutting off my already hampered airflow. A panic seized my chest and I couldn’t help by try to call out to her, to reason with her. I was met with my fourth blow to the cheek, though at least it gave me time to breath. Instead of returning her hand to my throat, it travelled to a far more worrying location, the knife sheath on her lower back. I’d seen her draw steel and plant it into a man’s throat before he could utter a cry of alarm, but instead she removed it slowly, letting the gravity of the moment sink in. The blade was thin and sturdy, perfect for sticking between ribs and collar bones, but still sharp enough to fillet a trout need be. My breath hitched as she spun the weapon back hand and brought the tip down, stopping just short of my neck. “Not one word this time. No names, no pleading, no apologies. I’m sickened of them.” I watched her mouth form each syllable, form from tight circles to wide, near smiles, her tongue dancing over each letter and sound. I had no escape. She was in control, and she was acutely aware of it. Leaning back once more, she put the full weight of her ample backside against me, and a second shiver ran down my spine, though the cause of this one was so base as to make bile rise in my throat. I was not disgusted by her, far from it, she was beautiful and awe-some in ways I could not begin to touch upon in words, her pronounced nose, graced with a near perfectly horizontal scar, her delicate ears which seemed to shift ever so slightly with each noise, the flow of her figure, from modest bosom and petite torso to broad hips and thick thighs. No; I was disgust with myself for viewing her in such a way, the same way those bastards had. Bringing her weapon back up, she slide the blade between the sturdy cloth of her breeches and the bindings that held them together and with a deft flick rent the ties from top to bottom, the sudden freedom giving view to the hairless skin above her mound. Stabbing the blade into the wood just beside my head, the edge opening a hair-thin spilt on my ear, she moved her hand to her leggings, pressing them down until the whole of her slit was visible and a heady mix of sweat and anticipation swarmed my senses. Her center seemed soaked, her lips parting slightly as the cool air touched upon them. Pressing her middle finger against the opening, she slide her digit up its length before pressing it back down and inward, just between the two lips. When she brought it back up and away a thin line traced the distance through the air between the tip of her finger and the slit before breaking away. My mouth fell open slightly at the display and what was once slight discomfort and confusion became both alien and arousing. Her finger still visibly wet, she pressed it between my lips and her taste soaked my mouth, sweet and bitter and strange, and she spoke words that I did not understand, and did not care to know. All I knew was that in that moment, I would not fight her and she would destroy me. Thoughts of her smiling face, soft features curling into warm gestures of joy or comfort, her sweet lilting laughter like some fairy song, the sparkle of joy in those vibrant viridian eyes came flooding back to my mind. I didn’t want to lose that, I could lose that. As I stared up at her, into her, I could see the pain she held; I could see the need for something to dull it, to push it from her into someone else. I either acted now, or I would lose her. Pushing backwards with the heel of my boot, I managed to shift myself across the hard floor, though Lif rode the jolt with an unnatural poise. Moving my hands to intercept hers I bent forward and up, bringing my chest hard against hers and I knew I had precious little time to act before she regained control; So I did the first thing that came to mind: I kissed her. Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips against hers, feeling the soft warmth of her breath from her gasp. She thrashed in my grip, arms ripping to and fro and I began to fear she would rip free. Slowly, however, she fighting stopped, and as I pulled away I looked upon her visage: Once the cold fury of some goddess of retribution, her features now more closely resembled a lost child. Her eyes screwed shut as if it would block me out and I could see tears welling up in the edges, a hair’s breadth from falling. “Don’t say it. Please… please don’t say it.” Her voice had lost all of its spiteful edge, and now wavered with guilt. “Lif” my voice was a mere whisper as I spoke, my face almost touching hers, “I’m sorry.” “Why…” Her voice trailed, dropping almost too low for me to hear it, “Why did you leave me in that place? Why didn’t you save me? I needed you. I…” Her voice fell off, but I knew what she wanted to say. I kissed the scar that crossed over her nose, pressing my forehead against her soft, spikey hair. “I love you.” I had stopped thinking as I spoke, the words pouring from me like water from a shattered vase, “And no one will ever hurt you again.” Her form curled against mine, trying to hide itself from the cruel world outside, and I released her wrists to wrap her closer in my embrace. I could feel her shake in my arms; soft sobs making her entire body tremble. “Please don’t let go.” - The morning sun peeked sheepishly through the window, though I was already seated at my small dining table, a cup of mikonosian tea, pale with cream, warming my hand. A book lay open on the wooden surface and I stared into and past the words, lost in drowsy thought. I knew the call would come today, that simple white letter to tell me I was leaving home again. I wondered how many simple mornings like this I would have. Taking a sip of the sweet, spicy drink I strained my sleepy mind to recall the name of it, masala or something like that. Regardless, it was friendly and comforting and reminded me of simpler times, back when the call to war was not near as present and the world was open and inviting. Cynically, I wondered whether the little tea shop I’d purchased these leaves from still stood, or if it had long since been blow apart or converted to some marksman’s perch. I didn’t blame the elves for siding against us, after all decades of slavery didn’t often win one’s favor and the people of Norvenshj were proud. I did, however, wish that they had stayed out of it entirely; the combined might of Ibergal, Norvenshj and Aergraq made for fearsome foes. Even with the aid of the Königinreich and northern Mikonos the powers had still called for a Conscription Lottery, and druids were always the first on the lists. Taking another slow sip of the fast-cooling beverage, I once again tried to focus on the words before me, reading them aloud to force my attention. “It is a well-regarded fact that, while mana exists in abundance upon the grounds of the Unbroken Band, off-coast the well of energy dims and wanes. As such, the far realms of Norvenshj and Aergraq to the north, as well as Calgaris to the south, are utterly devoid of this font of power. As such, both the Thaumaturgic Hierarchy as well as the Druidic Order of Law have placed an outright embargo of all travel to and from such places, lest the people travelling thereto become inflicted with the same maladies that befell the once great Alaeish Nation.” I let out a snorting laugh, followed by another slurp of my tea, debating whether or not to cast away such an outdated tome. “Tell the leader of the Aergraq that. I’m sure he’d have a good laugh.” My tone was snide and derisive, “Perhaps he’ll remember he can’t level buildings with a snap of his fingers and pack it in.” Smiling, I instinctively I turned to my right, expecting that familiar shock of ashen hair atop brown skin, those comforting gasfire-green eyes. But I found them absent, in their place only the blackened steel of a tea kettle staring back at me from the worn counter. I frowned, my chest aching slightly, before turning back to my book and realizing I had once again forgotten where I was. “It is a well-regarded fact that-“ “Please sir, spare that sentence any more needless abuse. It’s already in such tragic pain from its own existence that speaking it aloud may be considered a war crime.” The voice was husky, yet feminine, and heavy with the weight of newly achieved consciousness. Just hearing it returning the warm grin to my face. “Profound words for such a late riser. Did you spend the whole night preparing that?” I couldn’t help but allow some of my joy to sink into the words, robbing it of its droll charm. Turning in my chair I was greeted by the tired smirk of my dear friend and companion. Bare to the world, I let my eyes float freely and shamelessly over the pale scars that stood out upon the tanned skin of her arms, legs and torso, finally falling on the single line that traced over the bridge of her strong nose. How I had come to love that mark. She was adorned only in the sea-green scarf I had given her those many months ago, rubbing the sleep from one eye before releasing a low yawn. Stretching with it, I watched her entire figure elongate, arms uncoiling above her head, her powerful legs pushing against the rug beneath her as she stood on tip-toes. Her thick thighs tensed, her back curving into an arch that managed to make her petite breasts seem pronounced even as her small, faint nipples stood firm in the cool morning air. As she finished, she smiled softly, as at ease with me as I now was with her. Standing, I took too long steps towards her before wrapping my arms partway around her waist, my hands resting in the curve of her lower back just above the prominent bump of her backside and instinctively she pressed her wide hips against me. “Good morning Lif, fancy some tea? I think it’s still warm but I could warm the pot for you.” Her reply was simple and easy, as she ran the back of her fingers slowly along my ear to my jaw, “Yes please. Thank you sir.” Try as I might; I could neither get her to cease calling me sir, nor succeed in an explanation of the gesture after all this time, though I was honored to receive it nonetheless. With a soft kiss upon her nose, I released her and turned back to my drink, now cold. Picking up the cup, I brought it to the counter where I splashed the remains out the nearby window. Grabbing a fresh cup from the cupboard below I filled my own cup to check the warmth. Bringing the cup to my lips, I took a small sip to confirm it was still at drinking temperature before setting it back down and filling Liflyhn’s. Topping them both off with warm cream from a pot nearby, I brought the two drinks to the table. The smiling girl quickly seizing the brew I set my own back on the hard surface as I settled into my chair. Quick as a flash, the elven maiden sat upon my lap and for a moment I feared for the strength of the seat under both my weight and the mass of her rump; However as she settled down atop me I remembered how surprisingly little my voluptuous companion weighed, even as her derrière eclipsed my lap. Wrapping my arms around her waist once more, I laid a soft kiss upon her shoulder, taking a deep breath of her. Her scent was crisp and bright, like freshly cut apples, and I couldn’t help but rest my head there, in the crook of her neck. Sipping her drink softly, she leaned her head against mine, her short-cut steel hair against my brown shag. “Soon you’ll earn your ‘tail, sir.” her voice a light whisper between us. I hadn’t the heart to explain the difference in meaning between various hairstyles across our differing races. Instead I simply gave a soft squeeze to show my affirmation, enjoying the mix of soft flesh and firm muscle, earning a warm giggle from the girl in my arms. Pivoting her hips subtly as she drank, she began to press the crease of her twin globes against my crotch, and I couldn’t help but sigh contentedly. I had been half-hard against my night clothes since she entered, but between the softness of her ample ass and the smooth motions her hips supplied I felt myself harden substantially. Spreading her legs, she placed both feet on the floor, just barely managing to touch it with the balls of her feet. She was now straddling my thighs, facing away from me with my still-covered length wedged between her buttocks. Continuing her liquid movements, she began to bounce softly on my lap, doubling the sensation against me. Clinging closer to her I nudged aside the silky green fabric of her scarf and placed soft kisses against her shoulder and collar bone between increasingly heavy breaths. I was unaccustomed to such tender intimacies, and despite myself I felt pressure building within me. Sighing happily, my hands slowly began massaging her ribs and smooth stomach, the firm ministrations stealing contented outbreaths from her lips. Bringing my motions higher, I found her breasts; small and plump, they hardly filled my grip, but my explorations yielded a throaty groan as I teased and kneaded, her nipples hardening beneath my fingers. This only served to increase the pressure and length of her movements and I could feel her grow wet as she ground against my thighs and the base of my shaft. Pressing back against her soft, enveloping cheeks I began to kiss the exposed skin of her neck, up her jaw and to her ear. I could feel myself nearing my climax and the euphoria was building in my breath, even as she released low, husky groans of pleasure. Removing a hand from her small bosom, I slowly seized the free tails of her long scarf which trailed behind her and, with the gentlest of tugs, pulled it towards me. I could hear the faintest jolt in her breathing as it grew lower and an erotic whine crept into her moans. Her voice quivered as a pleading whisper escaped her lips, "S-Sir..." She wanted this. I watched as she set her cup down onto the table, nearly spilling her tea, unable to continue to façade of ignorance regarding the sensual act that was taking place between us. I still held some trepidation about the act, despite her whispered confession regarding it. It had started innocently enough; with her repeatedly allowing me to seize her in a headlock during an afternoon sparing bout. Later, when I had asked about it, she at first feigned ignorance but eventually she revealed to me -with no small amount of embarrassment- that the slight deprivation of air helped push her mind away and all the bad memories with it, leaving only the mindless sensation of want. While part of me felt uncomfortable choking someone I care so deeply for, an ugly, primal feeling of power lit like a fire inside my heart. Gently pulling my nightshirt away, I could feel the warm stain of precum against my stomach. My end was near, and as I pressed hard against her needy ass, I felt my balls tighten and a hard heaviness build. Then with one fluid movement, Lif leaned forward over the table, pulling the soft wrap taut between us as she rocked her hips once more, gliding her slick flower across my thighs and over my sack, the lips kissing the base of my cock even as her backside caressed its tip. With a soft moan I came, milky seed shooting forth across her brown skin, over her lower back and plump buttocks. A few more slow rocks of her wide hips emptied me, the thick fluid rolling down her rear onto her thighs and between her buttcrack. Panting softly, I released the fabric that stretched between us as I pulled her against me, uncaring of the sticky, warm feeling against my stomach and legs as I held her close. I simply bathed my mind with sound of her heavy breaths and her scent, now mixed with a ting of sweat and musk. She was the first to speak, voice breathy and warm, “Did that please you sir?” Gripping her jaw softly, I turn her head to face mine, planting a warm, loving kiss on her lips. “Very, my dear. You make me so happy.” Blush bright on her cheeks and highlighting the scar across her nose, she smiles sheepishly, “I love you.” “And I you.” I whispered, kissing her once more.