“I did, can’t say I’ve ever seen someone give a Fey Dragon a blowjob before, not that I’m judging by any means.”
“No,” was his immediate thought. “Not only am I to break my oath of chastity, but with my own sister?!”
Leeria awoke the following morning just before the dawn, still groggy from sleep, as well as the amount of alcohol she had imbibed the night prior. She lay for a time amidst the hay, curled in on herself as she had but her woodland cloak covering her nakedness, the medallion of her guild clutched in her hand.
Just as the full darkness of nightfall enclosed around them, Lystra and Belt made the gates of the Flaming Fist Fort. Despite seeing no sign of continued pursuit for the majority of their flight, they had not slowed their mounts, fearful that their foe may have some unseen trick up their sleeve.
Dusk was falling swiftly when a lone rider wound their way down a twisting backwoods road towards a long, squat Inn with worn log walls and a thatched roof. A low palisade surrounded the structure, the gate of which was open and welcoming, as was the small trail of smoke rising from the building’s chimney. A faded sign at the palisade’s gate identified the place as the Weeping Willow Inn, aptly named as the namesake trees lined the roadside leading to its entrance, as well as about the palisade’s exterior. The soft gurgling of a nearby brook, as well as the multitude of chirping insects, lent the locale a sleepy facade and was a pleasing image to the weary traveller.
Alessia watched from the balcony of the castle as the long column of victorious soldiers filed through the city gates far below. At their head, she knew, though she couldn’t see him clearly from her vigil, rode her brother, Marius.
On cotton covered throne she curls, A podium of swift-shed morals
“Night in this city seems darker these days,” Ethon mused to himself as he stood outside of the clinic/temple of the followers of Ilmater that was tucked away along a grungy street within the Baldur’s Gate slums.
Rendrick awoke slowly from his slumber. Having had little rest since he and his companions had first entered Cloakwood, a fact they had likewise noticed, it had been insisted upon that Keira and Tiberius would split the watch that night, allowing the Ranger a much-needed full nights sleep. Though he had been against their proposition at first, he had relented when even Katarina joined in on their behalf. Waking now, grogginess fogging his mind and a stiffness clinging to his limbs, he knew that one full night's sleep had not been nearly enough.
n the early morning hours, Syla crept from her bed. Among her elf-kin around her not one stirred, and though she knew that her footfalls would wake none, still softly did she tread. The tribe that she was staying with currently was a migratory one and, though she was not one of them, she knew that they would judge her for her actions that morn should they discover her motives.